open | intro log.

[murderbaby]

WHO: Mhavos Dalat, resident newbie, & YOU.
WHAT: Mhavos takes stock of... all this... weird fucking shit.
WHEN: Aug 1-3ish, presumably everything in here doesn't happen the same day.
WHERE: Various places around the Gallows and Kirkwall proper.
NOTES: Poetry, discussions of slavery, a nerd whining about religious authenticit. Will update if anything intense happens.

a. OUTSIDE THE CHANTRY.

It's All Fool's Day. Mhavos has read of this holiday, but he's never been given leave to witness the celebration. He fins himself curious, and a little daring; he's got nothing else on his schedule, anyway.

Outside the Chantry, a play is being put on. In front of a respectably sized bonfire, play actors dance about, mimicking the sacred immolation of Andraste. Mhavos stands in the crowd, watching intently. At one point, he almost flinches, before crossing his arms and shaking his head. To himself, he murmurs, "That's not what happens."

b. GALLOWS LIBRARY.

Among the rows of long tables, Mhavos has collected around him a fair pile of books. He pages through one, writes something down in a ledger, scoffs, and returns it to a different pile, before selecting another. This pattern repeats, complete with Mhavos moving his lips to read each word, several times. Coming close, one will find the books are written in both Orlesian and Trade, and detail a large range of subjects.

Occasionally, one may hear Mhavos murmur, "terrible, terrible," under his breath, his Orlesian accent thicker than usual.

c. THE STREETS OF KIRKWALL.

You are presumably minding your own business, wandering aroun town, doing whatever it is you do with your day. That's fine. That's fair. Allowed.

A gentle hand taps your shoulder, or, if you're particularly tall, your elbow. Turning around, you'll find Mhavos Dalat, an elf with an Orlesian accent. He hands you some coin, or an object that's definitely yours.

"Excuse me," he says mildly, "I believe you were pick-pocketed."

d. LOWTOWN.

After memorizing a map of Kirkwall, Mhavos is set and determined to explore as much of it as possible on his free time. Lowtown is inevitable, and Mhavos isn't much afraid of it. He's just an elf, after all, and he elects to bring none of his belongings. It's easy enough to pass through without making any waves. Any ripples.

He watches a street performer, an elf juggling a series of hard wooden balls. The performer is a bit clumsy, and their clothes are tatty, and the balls are chipped from old paint, dented from years of use. It's clear why the performer hasn't moved their act to Hightown yet.

The performer drops two of the wooden balls, and they thud on the dirty ground before Mhavos deftly kicks them up into his hands, balancing them gracefully in his hands before throwing them back. The entire maneuver is quick and fluid, betraying far more grace than Mhavos had meant.

The performer thanks him, and Mhavos quickly makes his exit from the scene, walking fast, face down.

e. HIGHTOWN.

There are street preachers in every part of Kirkwall, but from Mhavos' survey of the city, the worst are most certainly in Hightown. He listens silently, walks by them, ignores them, until he can't stand it anymore.

On matters of faith, Mhavos has little care. But being uninformed...

You'll find him standing before one such preacher, an annoyed look on both their faces.

"That's inconsistent," Mhavos says, voice mild despite his expression. "Either we are bidden to choose the direction of our lives-- as you say, to be with the Maker or against Him-- or we are all acting in accordance with his will, but you cannot have both. If you preach, you are asking us to choose. If you preach that His will shapes our lives in every aspect, you are contradi-"

He's cut off by a loud shout from the preacher, and the words 'knife ear' are heard. Mhavos massages the bridge of his nose. "You clearly haven't read the Messendrine Epistles..."

f. WILDCARD.

[yo i'm down for anything, mix and match prompts, come up with new stuff, whatever. hmu @ wehwalt (i'm open to adds!) or a dm if you want to discuss anything!]

Comments

[murderbaby]

"I do," he says quietly. "Spying in plain sight is a mainstay. I can pass unnoticed in most places. The fact that I am a trained clerk and scrivener, bookkeeper... it helps."

Another sigh. It's a tell, he knows it. Likely she does, too.

"In assassination, I specialized in stealth. Poisoning, sleeping targets, or studying their patterns until I could reliably catch them unawares. I can engage in direct combat, but it is not my forte or..." preference? "It's not my forte."

[hassaran]

Yseult doesn't conceal that she's taking mental note of his answers, even as her hands remain neatly linked in front of her. The sleeves of her pale linen shirt are rolled up tanned forearms, no rings or bangles, nails short and neat.

"That's helpful," she replies, "Thank you. So that you're aware, Riftwatch is a small organization, and at times we do have to ask members to take on work that is not precisely within their area of expertise. But there is certainly plenty to do for someone of your abilities. Do you have languages other than Trade?"

[murderbaby]

"Of course," he says, tone level. He's neither glad nor disappointed; if anything, this is what he expected. Theoretically, it's serving a purpose. Theoretically, it's better than the petty whims of noble grudges. It ought to cost more effort.

It just feels like a yawning hole opening before him, cold and dead. Or perhaps he always felt that way, and only notices it now that he can afford to.

It doesn't matter.

"Orlesian," he says without irony. "I don't speak a word of Elven." People sometimes think he does. And then, in a moment of whimsy, he murmurs, "I'd like to learn more."

[hassaran]

The gap between the theoretical and the actual--the way it expands and contracts from day to day like mortar between stones in changing weather, with the same consequences for long-term structural integrity--that's something Yseult could speak to. And something perhaps she ought to question in Mhavos with his pauses and his little sighs, his rigid posture, his spare and tidy responses. Someone else might ask, are you sure you want to do this? But that's not a question one spy asks another.

Still, Riftwatch is not either of their previous employers. Else she wouldn't smile slightly and suggest, "You might speak with Project Felandaris. They deal with elven artifacts, among other things. I gather that they're familiar with what little of the Elven language still exists. And I believe several rifters speak elven tongues unknown to Thedas. You should also look in on Project Jeshavis, Lady Alexandrie de la Fontaine is its leader. They deal with counterespionage in Orlais and Ferelden. I'm sure she would be glad of your assistance."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos cringes with half his face. He doesn't mean to. It just happens. "I... have no special wish to learn Elven over other tongues. Apologies; I was unclear."

Just a little rabbit-

"But I will report there, if you think that is the best use of my time."

[hassaran]

Yseult lifts half a hand, without fully unknitting them, fingers lifted to forestall. "No. Simply if you do wish to learn, that is where you might. If there are other skills you prefer to develop, I would be happy to direct you, but at present it sounds as if your abilities are equal to the task at hand."

She finally moves, turning to one of the piles at her elbow--slim folders and sheafs of paper, arranged neatly but not so precisely as to suggest obsession. She flips past a few before pulling one from the stack and setting it across the desk in front of him. "These are reports from agents here in the Free Marches who monitor shipping and trade with Tevinter. They need decryption and analysis. Your clerking and bookkeeping experience may prove helpful in interpreting the value of the information provided, and it will be a good way to get up to speed on our current codes."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos does perk up at that, subtly but difficult to miss if one is observant. It seems as though this woman is very observant. He wonders what working under her will be like.

"Are there other agents I should get in contact with?"

Working with others... another thing, he realizes, he has little experience with, if any. That will be the real thing he'll learn.