[open]

[lumelume]

WHO: Mado and you
WHAT: where are my beloved cousins??
WHEN: whatever month this is
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: he's here

There's a strange man in the Gallows courtyard, a man nobody has seen before. He looks shabby, dressed in a long yellow surcoat that has seen much better days, but his face is lit with a plaintive grin as his melodic, Antivan-accented voice rings out:

"Averesk? I'm looking for Kostos, or Nikos Averesk! Have you seen them?"

It's not even entirely clear how he got here, because nobody saw him enter or leave the ferry, and this is not a person who escapes notice easily. Maybe he's a ghost. Maybe he's been living under the island this entire time.

"You there, please! I'm looking for my cousins!"

Comments

[exsecutus]

"And that's supposed to be our uncle?"

Nikos materializes from the crowd and sits down. He has brought his own drink with him. His clothes are creased and he smells sort of stale, like wine on a cloth that has dried out in the sun. Upon receiving his brother's crystal messages, he had considered leaving him to deal with it all alone. Kostos would deserve it.

Then he had pulled himself out of his wine slump and showed up anyways, because he's such a good friend.

He scratches, dully, at his cheek. It makes a sort of sandpapery sound, blunt fingernails against stubble. He raises his eyebrows blandly.

"Are you after money?"

[exequy]

The expression on Kostos' face when Nikos arrives isn't relief. Not in any obvious way. But he sits up a little straighter, bolstered by the arrival of an ally, even if it's an ally he's likely to devolve into a war with immediately after the alliance has served its purpose.

"I asked him," he says, in Nevarran, because surely Dalish elves in Antiva don't teach that alongside—whatever. How to make stew out of bark. "He says he just wants to meet us."

Their near-identical faces with their subtly different flavors of sour expression do not make them look like a pair of people that anyone with sense would want to meet.

[lumelume]

Fortunately, no one has yet been able to prove that Mado has any sense.

"Not an uncle!" he chirps, and stands to emphatically extend his hand to the approaching Nikos, "a cousin! Creators, you really do look the same."
He plops back down into his seat with a grin, looking between them.

"I don't want your money," he reiterates with the same cheerful dismissal as before, "why is everyone so bothered about money?"

[exsecutus]

Nikos takes in Kostos' remarks with a kind of blankness, weighing it against the sight before him.

"Fucking lunatic if it's true." Also in Nevarran, back to Kostos, even though it's Mado that he's looking at. And in case Kostos was wondering: "Your accent sounds like pig's farts."

He takes a swallow of wine to bolster his defenses for this conversation. Switching to Trade, for the benefit of this purported cousin and perhaps so he doesn't have to listen to Kostos in Nevarran any longer (it's not that bad; he has to say it's bad, practically a requirement)-- "Everyone is so bothered about the money because there is enough of it to be bothered about. You can have some. Even if this is a con. I don't give a shit. I would just like you to be up front. I love my cousins. I don't know about accepting new ones."

[exequy]

Kostos' face darkens, but he swallows his retort, along with a mouthful of the swill in his cup—both equally likely to come back up later, if he swallows enough of them.

"Have you heard of a Borachio?" is aimed at Nikos. In Trade. Fine. "If it is a con, this—" Sorry, Mado. Kostos does not particularly love his cousins, even the ones he knows are actually his cousins. Except Marisol. And look how that turned out. "—idiot might not be in on it."

[lumelume]

"Oh, Borachio is my good friend in Rialto," Mado clarifies, "he helped me look for you because I asked him to! He is still there and I miss him greatly, but as you can see I wanted to learn what else was out in the world."
His grin hasn't left, and there's been an ominous shine in his eyes ever since Nikos said the word 'love'.

"A thousand times I would take your love over money, cousin! Love is why I sought you out, and why I live at all."
There is absolutely no question that he means it, as he looks like he might start crying from joy at any moment.

[exsecutus]

Borachio. Nikos' eyes narrow as he commits the name to memory.

"Probably you're right," he says to Kostos. In fact there is little question that Kostos is right. There is something suspicious about this, but the story (what pieces of it he has learned) is too dumb to be anything truly sinister. In another space in his mind, adjacent to the list of names, Nikos begins composing a letter. Dear Mother, which of your fucking brothers has a bastard half-elf half-wit, and how quickly can he collect him.

The sheen of tears in Mado's eyes is unsettling. Before they can fall, Nikos leans forward to brusquely shove Mado's cup closer to him. "Drink your drink and keep it together. You've sought us out, and you've found us. Well done." His tone suggests the opposite. "Now what did Borachio tell you to do?"

[lumelume]

Though a little startled by the suddenness with which the drink is shoved toward him, Mado takes it without question and does as he's told as easily and cheerfully as if he were a dog trained for the circus.

"Oh, he didn't tell me to do anything," he assures Nikos, holding the cup between his hands, "one of you used to live in Antiva, yes? He helped me learn where you'd gone, and I went on my way."

[exsecutus]

"Mm." It's more of a grunt, and a placeholder of a grunt at that. Nikos leans back from the table and folds his arms over his chest. He gives Mado a long look.

Eventually: "Which one of us do you think used to live in Antiva?"

This could be a fun game.

[lumelume]

"You," Mado says easily, brightening.

[exsecutus]

Silently, and without a change to his expression or breaking eye contact with Mado, Nikos points to Kostos.

[exequy]

Kostos has been glaring with sullen suspicion for this entire exchange. The alternative was having his skin start to melt off his face to reveal his skeleton at that hopeful glistening of Mado's eyes, so. Preferable really. And it's easy to continue to glare—no acting skills required—while Nikos points to him.

[lumelume]

Smiling pleasantly, Mado follows Nikos' point, considers, and shakes his head, looking back to him.

"It's in your voice," he insists.

[exsecutus]

Nikos drops his arm.

"Ooh, he's good," he says to Kostos, back in Nevarran again. "So what the fuck do we do with him?"

And as an aside, in case Mado is wondering, he adds: "We're talking about you. Make sure you stay quiet."

[lumelume]

Mado nods cheerfully, happy to oblige.

[exequy]

Kostos inclines his head, still glaring, to contemplate Mado. The glare slides slowly to something a little less irritated, more thoughtful.

"You could see if Mother and Father want him," he offers, which he would not actually do to them. "We could see if he is too old for an Abbey to take him. Or if you need a manservant..."

Obviously none of these. But he cuts back into Trade to ask Mado, "Can you do anything?"

[exsecutus]

"Fuck a dead cow," Nikos snaps when Kostos utters the word manservant. The day he takes a manservant is a day that will never come, because he would walk into the sea, and everyone knows it.

But now the sand has shifted. Such is the way of fighting with Kostos. Sulky, Nikos grabs for his wine again, takes a gulp, and turns his glare on Mado, waiting for his answer and his next chance to get a jab in at Kostos.

[lumelume]

Though it would be impossible not to notice the hostility between the twins, Mado makes no indication that he does, or that he cares.
He straightens when addressed again.
"I can sing!" he exclaims, "and dance, and do tricks!"

Even he has the wisdom to not completely show his hand.

[exequy]

If asked, he wouldn't have predicted that answer.

Having now heard it, however, it feels so predictable in hindsight that he gives into the urge to plant his elbows on the table and lower his head to hold it in his hands, fingers massaging his temples.

[exsecutus]

"Tricks," Nikos repeats. He swirls his wine in his cup, and gestures expectantly. Because it probably will cause Kostos some pain: "Show us."

It will also probably cause him some pain. That's a sacrifice he is willing to make.

[lumelume]

For the first time, Mado looks doubtful. He glances around them, then leans in to say, with a slightly sheepish air, "people don't like when I do it inside."

He straightens. "But if you're willing to go out, we can do it there!"

[exequy]

"Andraste's sword," is in Nevarran, but the first word at least is recognizable in any language. He downs the rest of his drink. In preparation for going outside, as much as because he needs it. They might as well see what they're dealing with.

[exsecutus]

Smirking, Nikos finishes off the rest of his wine as well and shoves back from the table. He will probably not enjoy this any more than Kostos, but at least he gets to enjoy Kostos being annoyed.

Once they're outside, he turns expectantly to Mado with his arms folded over his chest.

"Well?"

[lumelume]

Mado barely hesitates before he's upside down, walking on his hands with a truly uncanny fluency. He rests on one to flourish the other in a mock, mirror-image bow, then, without putting his other hand back down, easily half-cartwheels back onto his feet.

"Thank you for stopping, ladies and gentlemen, to witness the talents and mysteries of the great Volpinello!" he crows, speaking not only to the twins, but to any other shady types who may be passing.
"What's this behind your ear, Signore? A silver you've left tucked into your hat?"
He produces such a coin, clear as day, from a bewildered drunkard whose face indicates he's about to think he's just been robbed. Prepared for this reaction, Mado beams.
"Worry not, Signore, for I shall return it, if you'll only give me your hand!"

When the man does so, he receives a firm shake with the hand holding the silver; and when he draws his own back, it now contains a walnut.
Luckily for everyone, he's too drunk to do anything but stare at it.

[exequy]

“Maker,” Kostos says at the hand walking, and then at the rest he says nothing at all, only hopes that the slight resemblance between them is invisible to anyone passing by who doesn’t know to look for it.

Into the silence following the production of the walnut, he says, “Uncle Manetto.”

That’s his prediction, based on hazy 20-plus-year-old memories about which of their relatives was the most ridiculous.