faderift | open | baby come back

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: Failed attempts to hire a new head for the Diplomacy Division
WHEN: Late Solace
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: OOC post! IC announcement also to follow shortly. This log will contain some top-level starters for some of the NPCs (but not all of them, just the ones me, Cee, and Hope feel like, thanks), open to anyone who wants to tag them!

Players who signed up for scaring off specific NPCs are also welcome to set up logs here for that, open or otherwise, if they want to play it out.

The Diplomacy Head's office is really too nice to be so empty for so long—and someone to handle public relations would be, you know, not a bad idea—so it's time for proactivity and a small parade's worth of potential ambassadors on Riftwatch's behalf. The candidates arrive in twos and threes to be interviewed, shown around, and, ideally, convinced that taking on the diplomatic efforts of an organization this weird wouldn't be the worst career move they've ever made.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I am a good sport." Tereysa De Palencia's Trade is accented only lightly with the brightness of Antiva--but it is accent enough to add some shine to even the simplest of statements. And to back that up, even in the dim, she is smiling--but it's a smile that is starting to show a few small signs of strain.

Maybe that strain is easy to miss, in the dim. Because it is dim, the closer they get to Darktown. Not that De Palencia knows where Darktown is. Knows what it is? Oh, yes. Legends. And she knows a bad neighborhood when she sees one--she wasn't born in a bad neighborhood, but she was warned about them--and she is a good sport, but--

"But I am starting to think we're lost, serah. You would tell me if we are lost, I hope? Who is that?"

She's distracted quite suddenly by the sight of a very tall man, who steps out from a dark doorway. He is very pale, and seems to be wearing only a leather apron, streaked in something dark--it might even be blood--and he is smoking a blunt cigar. The light from its embered end illuminates his face from below, casting it into sharp relief. Far from afraid, De Palencia crowds close to Barrow so she can pull at his sleeve.

"You must introduce me," she says, in a low voice, her eyes fixed on the menacing figure. The man continues to smoke, wordless, watching them with a scary kind of calm.

No one is looking at the open manhole that is positioned, treacherously, in the future. O, Fate.

"I don't doubt it," comes the jovial reply, only for the girl to follow up with the rest-- lost, schmost. He's only been Kirkwall for a few weeks now, but one doesn't have to know every way around in order to have a good feel for the place.

"You're never lost if you keep moving," he adds, diverting his pleasant smile to the pale aproned man. The smile... drops.

"Good Lady de Palencia, may I introduce you to... probably a murderer," he says, gesturing to the man. Then, to him, "...got a light?"

Probably A Murderer observes them, with all the impassivity of a cat observing a rodent. Not threatened, barely interested--at least on the outside. He takes a pull on his cigar. In the quiet between the three of them, the flare of the end is just perceptible, a slight crackling sound.

When he pulls the cigar out of his mouth, he holds it out in their direction. Here.

"Oh," Tereysa murmurs. "Serah."

Still half-behind him, she pushes a little at Barrow's arm, clearly intending for him to step forward and take the cigar from the man's pale meaty hand.

Well who can resist a siren call like that one? ...perhaps a wiser person, but Barrow puts on a brave face when offered the cigar, accepting it with a wink and taking a pull.

"Thanks mate," he says, and hands it back good-naturedly, "though I rather hoped you might have a match."

open | baby come back

Tereysa De Palencia - CLOSED to Barrow

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