faderift | open

[ On a foggy damp night, one of those nearly-moonless nights where no one is ever up to anything good, you might make the bad choice of going out walking. And if you are, you might make the worse choice of approaching the docks, home of ne'er-do-wells and wastrels. And if you have made these bad choices, then you're probably in a state where you'd approach a dark-cloaked individual with a face hidden under a hood.

And then when he takes a draw off his pipe enough that the embers illuminate his face, you'll be disappointed, because instead of being someone sinister, it's just Byerly.

Obviously, whatever he's doing is beyond shady. Yet even so, he greets whoever approaches him with a cheerful wave, and a casual offer of his pipe. Just in case they want a puff. ]

Edited 2019-10-24 19:19 (UTC)

[ Part of being the head of diplomacy means that you need to keep open office hours. Of course, that doesn't mean you need to be particularly helpful during that time. That wasn't what he agreed to.

And so that is why, if you show up to the Diplomacy office when it's Byerly's turn to hear complaints, you may well find him vigorously playing a violin while a small dog runs in circles around his feet, yapping loudly. Or perhaps at another time, you'll find the office quite crowded - there's a circle of two burly men and one burly woman, watching intensely as Byerly attempts to build the top tier of a house of cards. Or - very rarely, on the most special occasions - you'll find him sitting in the quiet, mending a ripped jacket with tiny, precise stitches. ]

[ And then, perhaps, one day, in the dining hall, Byerly might approach you, and sit down, and say - ]

Tell me about something I can use.

[ Have you wanted to get in to see Thranduil? To leave some report on research you've done or collected? Just want a consultation? Well...Too bad. Because in your way is a rather tall girl who's quite thin but also it's easy to tell by the way her arms are crossed, and by the very large mabari at her side, that she's not going to be easy to budge. ]

What do you need?

[ Once, this role was filled by Casimir, who was calm and none too difficult. Now it is filled by a moody teenage girl. Definitely a downgrade. ]

[ Of course, moody teenage girls sometimes have good moods, too. You may have the good fortune to spot Kitty when the cooks have managed to obtain enough sugar or honey or molasses to make a proper sweet iced bun. Sitting with a pot of tea and sweets and a good book is enough to make Kitty calm, a very slight smile on her lips. This is the time to approach her if you don't want a fight. ]

[ There is a man standing at the docks, waiting for the ferry to take him back to the mainland. He has a companion. The man is very casually holding forth to his companion about nobility, and the virtues of nobility, and how it's good that the common folk aren't all uppity and rebellious where he has his lands. Nothing extraordinary offensive, but held in a very loud tone of voice, and at length.

That's probably why Kitty looks like she's about to jump him. Someone should probably stop her. ]

[ Tony is eyeing the dog more than he is the teenage girl who is as tall-- taller, by a hair-- than he is, wondering if this many giant dogs routinely coming in and out of one building is OSHA approved.

But either way, he is stopped. Probably by now at least seen about town, 'rifter' as a first impression stamped all over him. Today, he's avoiding curious stares at the centre of his chest by wearing a jacket of dense enough weave to trap the spill of glowing blue light. In his hands is a collection of loose leaf pages, all marked by different hands and methods of note taking. ]

Hi, [ he says. ] Kitty, right?

[ So she makes a number of bad decisions. She makes them frequently, moreso lately than in prior months, but what's a girl supposed to do? Not get high and wander around at night?

And she laughs when she sees that this cloaked figure is neither a hallucination nor a ghost, but just Byerly. Returns his offer with her own, though the joint is far less elegant than a pipe of any caliber. ]

What's your poison, Rutyer?

I wouldn't recommend it.

[In a low voice, from a very large man, who leans down slightly to ensure Kitty knows he's addressing her.]

That's the sort of man who makes people disappear.

For good or for ill?

Mm.

[ She nods, and squints a moment, and then manages to pull out - ]

Mr Stark, right?

[ She hopes that's right. Regardless, her hostility eases somewhat; she knows from reputation that he's been poking around in things and digging into things, so whatever he's bringing, it's likely interesting. ]

What have you got?

[ She jumps slightly in response to that sudden voice. Her head whips around, and she stares at Barrow, eyes wide and then narrowing slightly. ]

He's - What, meaning what? What does that mean?

Ah, in this immoral age, what's the difference?

[The sun has just finished setting and the last shocks of light paint Hightown and the Viscount's Keep a vibrant yellow. But down here in the close cut of Lowtown and the leaning overhands of the Kirkwall docks, shadow is falling almost as quickly as the small boats are running in from the channel. The exception to this rule is the nearly empty boat bound for the Gallows. The oarman is doddering around about lighting the ferry's stern lamp so he can jaw for a few minutes longer with some grey whiskered old sailor over some new ship at anchor in the harbor. The gossipy quality of the talk - 'Mark me, she came from up north'; 'the Captain's a ponce, and are you surprised - have you seen the leaf on the stern rail'; 'If the Viscount doesn't mind things--'; - has a lulling, mindless quality to it, punctuated only by the intermittent and half hearted clack of steel on stone.

The ferry should have been gone five minutes ago. If it had, Kitty Jones would have safely been safely esconsed in it. As it is--]

Stepping on.

[Captain Flint joins the little boat just as the light finally catches in the lamp.]

[ Ah, what she's offering him smells quite a lot more pungent than what he's smoking. ]

Nothing all that fun. Just common tobacco. What have you there?

Elfroot. Way more fun than tobacco.

[ She won't take a puff on the pipe after all, but she'll hold it for him if he partakes of her spliff. ]

Now, look.

[Julius leans in the doorway, casually observing the little white dog. He does, at least, wait for a pause in the music, or at least a quieter moment.]

I thought Project Sashamiri was in charge of the dog stereotypes. Am I to understand I gave Alistair permission to replace his desk with a giant dog statue for nothing?

[ The voice takes a moment to really reach her consciousness. Which is ridiculous. It's such an unmistakable voice, an unmistakable accent and timbre, that it ought to have been instantaneous. But she's tired, really tired, and the water is so hypnotic that for a moment she'd been in a sort of a daze and so she doesn't even feel the sway when that heavy boot treads on the step and she doesn't recognize the voice till she's almost turned round to look.

Recognition comes just before she does make that turn. At the last moment, she keeps her face turned away, stays huddled with her face turned to the water. Fear runs up and down her spine, a jittering high panic as she considers the water as an escape (she does know how to swim now, a little, courtesy of Captain Vane, and why did he have to be the one to go and leave Flint here) but probably not as well as a lifelong pirate. But that's stupid, he's not going to come for her here, now, with the old oarman a witness - unless the oarman is in on it -

She could turn and hop back to shore. Yes. That's it. That's the best thing to do. Except that right when she resolves to do that, the old sailor gives the boat a good kick that shoves it off from shore, and the oarman laughs chummily, and calls out a farewell, and the boat sets off.

Shit. She huddles in on herself, trying to be small and unnoticeable under her cloak, tension in every muscle. ]

What you plan to do with it, and to whom.

[Barrow nudges his head toward the man.]

Noble. Likely wealthy. Connected. Not afraid to announce it, daring someone to challenge him.

[He tugs a cigarette out of his jacket and strikes a match on his own shoulder to light it.]

A man like that is better inconvenienced than attacked. [When he looks back down at her, there's a smile in his eyes, if not on his mouth.]

[And for what must surely feel like a painful length of time, it works. The ferryman is in no hurry; he hacks leisurely at the oars, the boat creeping sedately out into the harbor, and at some point makes some effort to engage Flint on what by now should be a tired subject. They discuss the Lion's lines and speculate as to her port of origin and profession, and debate the legitimacy of I hear either it or the Captain came by some Qunari gold, from the oarman with a snort and 'What the fuck use would the Qun have for gold?' from the man in the dark coat.

But eventually - perhaps right after the thought occurs that Flint and the oarman might chat their way across the whole harbor without ever referencing the narrow shape sitting stiffly in the bow -, the ferryman calls out to her:]

Girl, if you're going to be sick then you better see to doing it over the side.

Mhm.

[ How weird, suddenly, that people who barely know him now finally might know his name ahead of time. Maybe by new year he'll be famous again. Anything could happen.

He fans out the collection of notes. Rumpled in places, ink smears, other stains from by virtue of being produced during fieldwork. It's hardly a formal report, but-- ]

Some, uh. Preliminary anchor-rift research. You want it?

[ --like, maybe she will compile it for him, is that her job? That would be great. ]

Wasn't going to attack him.

[ The stubborn, defiant look in her eyes rather says something else. But, intrigued a bit - ]

What's that mean. Inconvenienced.

open

Byerly

docks. night. up to no good.

office. various times. up to no good.

dining hall. dinner. up to no good.

Kitty

research office

dining hall

Gallows docks

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shady af

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half wildcard, half not; full kill bill sirens

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YES.

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