Cello, Cello, Cello, Oi, Oi, Oi!

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa, Bastien, Doki, Sylvestre, Aleksei, Laura, et al
WHAT: An informal inquest into recent acts of thievery
WHEN: TBD, between Athessa's day as Ambassador and now
WHERE: The Gallows, around Kirkwall
NOTES: nah.

Comments

the bloodhound

[deceivingly]

The smell of the stolen bath oils is still sharp in Athessa's room. The thief left behind the empty bottles, and they're lined with the residue--but besides that, there's a spot on the floor that has a thicker scent. Someone careless spilled while the thieving was going on.

The distinct scents of the oils then marry into one, pungent and expensive and, even weeks later, overpowering. Like a ribbon it trails out the door, down the hallway, down the stairs. The path criss-crosses the Gallows. Laura, while tracking, will find herself on a tour of the place--the baths, significantly, where steam and water might confuse the scent--but then it's easily picked up again, headed for the kitchens, smeared oily in an empty pantry, then back up and out. One section of crumbling parapet is thick with the smell. Rain and sea-spray and rainwater have marred any clear smell, but then the smell is back, in an interior corridor, headed for the Diplomacy office--and then down another corridor--

It goes on like this. Restless, like. Eventually the scent trails into the cellars, and ends at a locked door. It will require either a key, or some coaxing.

meeting bill bravo

[deceivingly]

"Want some?"

Yevdokiya holds out the skewer of dripping meat to Athessa first, then Bastien, her eyebrows raised in friendly inquiry. Sauce and meat grease are on her fingers, smeared around her mouth. If Laura's nose were here, it would pick up the smell of the bath oil under all the sweat and meat and fur and leather that Doki is wearing or covered with. If the wind blows just right, there might be a hint of it for anyone to smell, confused with everything else Doki smells of. She's been eating as they walk along, but has suddenly remembered her manners.

The sun is baking Kirkwall today. The street smells. They have made it to the market by now, at least, where the merchants all sit in the shade of their stalls and beneath the awnings of their shops, fanning themselves. It is a fine day to be rescuing a cello.

Doki raises her eyebrows a little higher. The skewer wavers between her companions like the point of a wonky compass. Yes? No? "It's okay. Bill will not mind. He likes food too."

There's a wad of meat stored in her cheek. It makes her look kind of cute, like a squirrel that might have rabies.

tailing bill bravo

[deceivingly]

This is the part where Doki disappears, with a cheerful bye. She has shopping to do, places to be--one minute she's walking with them, the next she's gone, leaving them to the mercy of the Kirkwall streets. But they will be okay.

And so will she. And so will Bill Bravo. And no one is expecting anything. Business is done. What could happen next?