closed.

[heorte]

WHO: science nerds
WHAT: vibe check
WHEN: drakonis
WHERE: wysteria's haunted house
NOTES: all fine here.

There has yet to be a chemical fire today, so Ellis feels it's safe to spread his mending out on the side of the table Tony and Wysteria haven't covered with sheets of paper. He's been carefully repairing items of clothing over the course of the afternoon, and is presently meticulously reinforcing the seam at the shoulder. It's comfortable in Wysteria's ramshackle, lightly-haunted house, and Ellis has decided not to examine that too closely. (Once he does, this place will likely cease being comfortable for him at all.)

As he's worked, he's kept half an ear on the conversation. Most of the discussion is theoretical, touching on subjects he's familiar with but can't parse well enough to contribute. However, Ellis has developed an ear for the kinds of turns a conversation takes before it veers into dangerous territory, so it's best not to zone out completely.

"It sounds like you need a dwarf," he says, when their conversation hits a lull. "If you could persuade one of their artisans or smiths to work with you."

Comments

[heirring]

Which does nothing immediate to stop the argument which she and Tony are not having in its tracks exactly, but instead has the unfortunate effect of implicating him as a willing third party. From where she sits across the table, her feet propped up in one of the other chairs (which she did not do to keep Mr. Stark from having somewhere to sit; that would be petty and her feet hurt and he can sit on the table or fetch a chair from the grand hall if he must sit) and a cup of that dreadful too sharp chicory tea balanced in her lap, Wysteria cuts a look toward Ellis.

"—Which would have been all well and good, but we've hardly any dwarven smiths or artisans in Riftwatch's employ. We might ask Sister Sara for some recommendation, I suppose. I believe she is from Orzammar, or at the very least speaks as if she's rather newly acquainted with the surface. But then of course there is the question of how we are to afford the acquisition, which may very well hinge on Monsieur de Foncé's involvement, and I guarantee that if he is involved, he will want to know the specifics, of which we have all sworn ourselves to secrecy.

"—With apologies to Mr. Fitz, of course."

Who even now has been judiciously tasked with finishing the re-organization of the library under the guise of surveying the collection there for any useful texts. 'Simply do me the favor and reshelf them as you go. Yes thank you, you're too kind,' she had said while shoving him out of the kitchen.

[propulsion]

Tony is indeed sitting on the table, legs folded, surrounded by the chaos of pages that paper the surface around him. He could really use a digital database, a computer, an interface to help correlate thought process and information. He'd invented his own, back home, when nothing else felt like it could keep up, and look at him now, handling parchment and ink and pencil.

His ears prick, some, as Ellis speaks up, glancing over as sweeps a page nearer in search of something that looks like it, but is not it.

"Sister Sara's kind of a square," he says, "but she's definitely got a naughty side. She'll want to know everything we're doing, though, so we'd have to lie. To a nun."

Pages rustle as he flings some aside. More directly to Ellis; "Why, you know a guy?"

[heorte]

Above them there is a loud thump which could be a book dropping or a window slamming shut or open but is hopefully not a bookshelf being overturned onto Fitz. Ellis pauses for a beat to listen for a shout of pain, but when none is forthcoming he draws the thread taut, considers his answer.

"I know several dwarven smiths," he says. "But none of them would ever come to the surface, so you'd have to go them." A beat, then he amends, "We would have to go down to them."

And he isn't quite sure Sister Sara would be interested in going back below the surface (likely because of said naughty side) but Ellis deems that irrelevant to the conversation. Instead, he turns the opposite sleeve of his tunic so it doesn't disturb Tony's papers when he readjusts his position to get at the place where the collar is coming loose.

"You'd have to explain what you're planning on building to any of them we could persuade to help us. Or any smith you end up working with."

[heirring]

"Naturally. The general shape of the thing could hardly remain a secret. But there is a question of certain proprietary— Mr. Ellis, when you say that 'We would have to go down to them,' do you mean to suggest that we take a trip to Orzammar?"

She squints at him across the length of the table, then cuts the same look over to Tony.

"Would Riftwatch fund that?"

He should know. He's a project leader now, isn't he?

[propulsion]

Dropping the pages -- it doesn't appear there to be a hell of a lot of rhyme or reason in their configurations on the table, but it's kind of Ellis to think so -- Tony sets his palms down either side of him so as best to pivot around and focus his attention on the resident Grey Warden. His expression could be described as dangerously speculative.

Or just thoughtful. He says to Wysteria, "Sure Riftwatch would."

[heorte]

"I wasn't suggesting anything, really."

Though in hindsight, he absolutely sees where his phrasing veered directly towards suggestion rather than clarification. He also has the sense that the idea of a trip has already spun just far enough that he won't be able to easily reign it in. Whether or not he should—

"Dwarves have a way of conducting themselves, and they aren't much for change but they're skilled at smithing, among other things. That's what I meant to explain."

There's other things he could add: his time spent in the Deep Roads, the inevitability of him returning there sooner or later. He has the distinct sense Tony and Wysteria would find Orzammar a featBut instead, he looks away from Tony's expression and diverts his attention back to the collar of his tunic.

[heirring]

"Well yes, everyone knows that Mr. Ellis."

(You know, because fantasy racism reasons.)

Wysteria sets her cup and saucer aside on top of one of the stacks of disorganozed papers. "The question is what we might trade for some Orzammar dwarf's assistance. Or consultation, I suppose. If you have any suggestions for what we should bring with us when we go, then now would be the time to make them."

When they go.

[propulsion]

"And you can set up an introduction," Tony says, having picked up a spare square of paper while Wysteria was speaking, folding it in long diagonal patterns, smoothing the creases between his fingers. "Right? If you know artisans and smiths who never come to the surface."

But Ellis is pretending that he's doing sewing, so Tony deploys the paper airplane he's fashioned. It arcs, nose dives straight down into Ellis's business, as intended.

"Hey. What were you doing in Dwarf Town anyway?"

[heorte]

When they go. Funny how fast that happened.

"I'll introduce you both. It'll help if I'm there. You should bring them that...what do you call it? Zip?"

It's a little bit of a joke. But who knows? It might be something. The bit of metal securing the bag Fitz had arrived in was interesting enough, even if it wasn't a weapon. The artisans might take the idea and run with it. Ellis spears the needle through the collar of his tunic and sits back in his chair. His gaze flicks up to Tony as he lifts the airplane, then drops as he turns the construction over in his fingers.

"The last time I was there, it was on Warden business. There's an entrance in Orzammar I needed to use," he says, running a finger along the wing. There are details omitted: the broken bones, the places where his armor had been dented so deeply it had been difficult to draw breath, the grind of stone as Meino had hauled him bodily through the gates. "But it wasn't the first time. Wardens have regular business there. I can make it easier for you two to negotiate."

[heirring]

"Oh, the Deep Roads," Wysteria remarks, shifting some paper around until she finds her pen. A note about the zipper is jot down in some unrelated margin; that's a good idea. "I don't think I'd realized Orzammar had a proper entrance to them."

She didn't realize there were proper entrances to that place at all - just unofficial places where the tunnels had been cracked open, or old abandoned doors or—

[propulsion]

'Warden business'. Tony's mouth quirks to the side at the ambiguity, more noting it for later than feeling impulse to dissect the meaning behind it right this second. They have more pressing matters to discuss, such as--

"It's all in the wrist," he says, nodding to the paper plane in Ellis's hands. He brings his own hand up to demonstrate. "Keep it parallel to the ground. Like throwing a dart. How often did Warden business take you into the Deep Roads?"

[heorte]

"I'll find you a book about dwarven civilization," Ellis promises Wysteria, as he mimics Tony's motions. A few false starts, then the plane drunkenly arcs across the table to an inelegant skid past Tony's knee, settling in front of Wysteria.

"A fair amount," he answers, delicate. The turn in conversation exacerbates the gnawing sense of...shame, maybe. It's the kind of guilt that comes from a job left undone and ignored; Ellis has been in Kirkwall for long months, and he isn't so sure he shouldn't be ranging across Thedas or delving back underground with whatever Wardens aren't tangled in affairs in the Anders or elsewhere. "I was part of a few expeditions meant to explore the lost thaigs."

Regardless of what Alistair had said, Ellis finds it hard to shake the inclination towards secrecy. But still, talking about exploration veers away from what exactly they'd been looking for and the clusters of darkspawn they'd encountered. One is easier to discuss in Wysteria's warm, cluttered kitchen than the other.

[heirring]

Is there a very small, warm glance in Ellis' direction at the mention of books? Maybe. Who can say. It is very brief. But at the mention of the thaigs, Wysteria's attention comes all the way up from her absent note taking and general paper shuffling.

"Expeditions, you say? Why Mister Ellis, I had no idea you had such a history of being integral to academic research prior to this point. You really should have said something before now."