open | back in the atmosphere

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Lexie, Loki, Lea, Yseult, you
WHAT: complaining, spy things, catch-all for all your Lexie-based needs
WHEN: Presently, just after her return from Val Royeaux
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Hi again <3

Loki:
The carriage is unloaded, its driver paid, and its riders retired within the estate to trade their road-dusted travelwear for something eminently more comfortable. Tea is made and delivered to the sitting room followed closely by a robed Alexandrie finger-combing her released curls who disdains the other plush chair beside the small tea-bearing table in favor of wiggling herself into the space between the long droll stretch of her husband and the arm of his chair, tucking her head beneath his chin and sighing with gusty finality once settled against his side.

“Merde.”


Leander and Yseult:
It’s easier this way; all three of them, in Yseult’s office late on the evening of her return, Alexandrie still standing, uncorking a bottle of exceedingly fine wine retrieved from the family’s cellars in Val Royeaux to soften the frustration she brought back along with it for them—and to soften whatever local frustration she’s to be briefed on.

“Shall I begin?” is her query over the quiet pop of the cork releasing, “It will be a thing of depressing brevity.”


Wildcard!
[Come at her wherever; home or studio in Hightown, Gallows office, library, somewhere completely different!

Alternately, come at me, and we can figure something out if you like. shaestorms or shae#7274 on discord]

Comments

[coquettish_trees]

His sigh might as well have come from her lips. The words after it, though, spark some livelier thought.

Indeed, in the end, those they’d gone to investigate had had nothing desirable; nothing for Riftwatch, nor for Alexandrie herself. While it had briefly been fiercely satisfying to watch the blood drain from the Lady’s face when they’d finally arranged the board such that she was caught publicly at her game of falsehoods, something about it had still rung hollow.

Nothing we want.

“What is it we want, Loki?” Alexandrie murmurs after a moment, slender fingers rising to rest beneath his chin, pulling gently to turn his face to hers so she can meet his eyes properly. It’s rare enough to hear from her like this, his name. Not replaced by title or endearment as is her custom outside more intimate circumstances that render it hiss, gasp, moan, or prayer.

Something of special import, then.

“Not for Riftwatch, nor even for the House—although I grant the outcome may lay favorably over all, if we are skillful.”

Her gaze searches, curious.

“What is it we wish for ourselves?”

[hwaaaitsme]

That is...overall...an interesting question. He had left the fate of House Asgard to Thor, as his father wanted, with the hopes that his brother might be murdered during his attempts to right things. Until then, however, it was entirely possible to ignore the fate of his House, or even Tevinter on whole, eschewing both for the possibilities he could attain with her. His wife.

He arches a brow at her, following her train of thought, and the tiredness behind his eyes sharpens to something more lively and keen. His smile is subdued and slow, but it overtakes his face after a beat or two.

"Now that is an interesting question, Alexandrie," Loki replies lightly and his hand, in hers, shifts so he can drum his fingers against her wrist. "After all, we must have a goal in mind, a future we can obtain, must we not?"

[coquettish_trees]

She loves him in stillness, she loves him in motion, but most of all she loves him like this; in the moment just before movement. The taut kinetic sparkle beneath his skin that escapes through the tap of his fingers, the snake-strike spread of his smile. Alexandrie shimmers in response, her eyes bright summer skies brimming with warmth enough to keep the sharpening slice of autumn’s chill at bay.

“Mais oui, we must,” she agrees, before making lightly amused admission: “Happiness has made me slothful.” Her fingers trace Loki’s jawline briefly before relinquishing it.

“But all things hang in the balance during wartime, and we stand within an organization that makes itself more than visible time and again; how romantic Riftwatch is, a band from all countries, standing visibly against an ancient force that splits the sky.”

She tilts her head, leans to speak against his skin. “The Chantry has its March now, but once Corypheus falls all will wish for peace eventually. They may have their sneering fun at our expense now, but with clever effort we might position ourselves to become a tale that joins nations.”

[hwaaaitsme]

She extolls the romanticism inherent in the Riftwatch, the strong undercurrent of heroism and the implied adoration that might accompany it and while Loki doesn't actually grimace at the thought, the expression he grants her is a bit dry. He knows full well that he is not the heroic type, however much she might disagree, and the joining of nations is a skill neither one of them truly possesses...but her proposition has a few notes of appeal in it and he looks over her face as he considers.

"A lofty goal, my dearest," Loki congratulates, earnestly despite his own personal distaste for the idea. "But perhaps something simpler."

He sighs softly and shifts his hand in hers to stroke along her fingers.

"Perhaps a bit of power spread about, enough that we might not have to vie for favor or negotiate in the face of future marching. Either by the chantry or otherwise. A simple, reserved homestead...in our own private corner of the world?"

[coquettish_trees]

And for once Alexandrie is rendered speechless, her coy look evaporating into a wide fragile vulnerability as with all of twelve words lifting in quiet query she is offered back, hale and whole, her shattered girlhood dreams. Not gold and marble and glittering gems, but a wide sky, a handful of seeds, and a heart.

"Au bord de la mer?" she manages tremulously as the lamplight reflects a little brighter in her eyes.

[hwaaaitsme]

"If it pleases you," Loki replies back easily. His mother had a fondness for the sea and he for sailing, so he has no objections. His choice of words is, perhaps, a bit poor given that he in no way means an actual homestead and not an estate, but that is all semantics, in the end.

"Though I may be picky and demand it somewhere a touch warmer than some of the coasts in the south."

[coquettish_trees]

"You may be picky and demand whatever you wish," Alexandrie agrees readily, using the lazy clasp of their hands to draw Loki's arm more snugly around her as she resettles herself against him with a sigh that exudes contentment, her earlier irritation banished in its entirety.

[hwaaaitsme]

"Of course," he continues once she has resettled, a note of interest snagged in his tone. Now that he is pondering the future, his plans are gradually becoming more elaborate.

"If we wished to consolidate power and use it for the greater good, I am certain you could wield such influence well...for the uniting or rending of whatever you liked."

[coquettish_trees]

"I wield?" she replies, her fond amusement briefly overshadowed by feigned shock. "I did not think you fond of giving over power."

She pauses for a moment, her smile curves, and the look she casts on her husband could heat the room in midwinter. "At least, not without... extenuating circumstances."