in the enemy's grippe

[tender]

WHO: Nikos, Derrica, Lino
WHAT: in the enemy's grippe
WHEN: Drakonis
WHERE: Nevarra City
NOTES: Chances of a light stabbing

Stealing the sedate robes of a healer was the easy part. Coming up with the plan was even easy, but now that it's time to put it into practice, Derrica is suddenly very aware of everything that could go wrong.

She'd like to be successful in this. So maybe she thinks that about every single assignment she's given, but that doesn't make it any less compelling in the moment.

"Try not to speak at all," Derrica reminds Lino, reaching over to tug at the sleeve of Nikos' robe until it hangs just right, down over his wrists. This seems to be the only thing Derrica has fully committed to: Lino should not be the one in charge of sweet talking their way into the Chantry.

Technically, Derrica is the only one among them who isn't lying, but she's also the only one among them who is clammy with nerves at the idea of being within the Chantry.

"Are we ready?" she asks, looking between them. "Do we need to go over it again?"

Comments

[exsecutus]

Nikos would have been torn between an earnest desire to help the poor, disgust for the soldier, and a sulky ineptitude at acting with demonstrable selflessness in front of an audience. He's spared the quandary when Lino fucking shoves them forward.

At least it pulled Derrica's hand off of his sleeve. Even so turns, Nikos turns a mutinous glare over his shoulder at Lino. In their wake, the solider calls after them, indignant--then curses, and spits in the mud. Nikos sets his teeth, gathers his stupid robe close around himself, and stomps onward toward the Chantry. He will remember this.

The chambers beyond the doors aren't empty. More of the sick are huddled among the benches and in the aisles and antechambers. Tapestries have been stripped from the walls and cloths stripped from the altar, to make makeshift blankets. Healers in robes much like theirs scuttle from person to person, less mud-spattered than those outside but just as tired.

There's just enough space in the door for them to crowd in, too. Nikos just avoids trodding on the leg of a man retching into a bucket, and turns a look on his compatriots, in a silent now what.

[tender]

Now what very immediately turns into: be "welcomed" by the Reverend Mother. She doesn't clear Lino's shoulder and looks as if a strong breeze would topple her, but the air she gives off is so focused that it turns imposing. Derrica's eyes widen a little as this woman briskyl approaches and sizes all three of them up.

"Welcome," she says, in a tone that doesn't strike Derrica as welcoming in the slightest. "What business have you here? You seem uninjured, and unlikely to need our services."

Determination not to minimize how much Nikos and Lino speak has become more a priority for Derrica (cemented by Lino's shoving) so she quickly takes a little step forward.

"We're here to offer our services," she answers, casting a quick, encouraging look over her shoulder. There's an expectant pause, in which the Reverend Mother also looks past Derrica at her companions.

[imbroccata]

Lino nods and, on the off chance that the Reverend Mother or anyone else around actually speaks the language, signs agreement and that Nikos and Derrica are healers.

But if the Reverend Mother understood what he said, she doesn't look it. Her focus is on Nikos now that Lino has apparently proved himself simple, which means his focus is free to wander.

The building isn't grand or involved; it's small, by Chantry standards, with a simple layout and predictable exits. Not many options for where the relics are stashed away, which should make their search easier by far.