[ CLOSED ] Scarce the blessing from on high

[filotimo]

WHO: Byerly, Flint, Madi, Silver
WHAT: A Princess Returns From The Dead
WHEN: mid-August
WHERE: Kirkwall/The Gallows
NOTES: Bad news from Nascere is followed a week or so later by an unexpected arrival.

Two things, all the world among,
Help the lover to attain
All that doth to Love belong:
E’en desire the good to gain,
Hope that makes the coward strong.
Both within my bosom lay.
No, ‘twas in my stricken soul
That they lurked to take away
My desire to reach the goal.
Hope hath fled and will not stay.

Comments

[filotimo]

Madi.

[ Offered with a bow of her head, more graceful than any curtsy. ]

Will you tell me, Lord Ambassador, about this operation? I understand the Inquisition is no longer here.

[bouchonne]

In a manner of speaking.

[ He offers her his arm, gallant as any cavalier. ]

We are Riftwatch now. A daughter organization, of sorts, after breaking with the Inquisition.

[filotimo]

Riftwatch.

[ That is the sort of unimaginative name one might expect from a bunch of pirates. Though her echoing the name has an unimpressed slant, there is humor housed in the corners of her eyes. ]

Is the Chantry still mother to this daughter organization?

[bouchonne]

Is the Chantry not mother to us all?

[ He touches his lips, seeming for all intents and purposes perfectly devout. ]

[filotimo]

To some more than others.

[ A mother who forsakes her own children is no mother at all. ]

Is this Riftwatch still supported by Chantry resources?

[bouchonne]

We have multiple sources of income. But the Chantry is not our primary one.

[filotimo]

Is that why you are here, rather than committing to the Exalted March?

[ She is curious, not accusatory. ]

Has the Chantry's acquisition of forces affected your numbers here?

[bouchonne]

Scarcely.

[ His voice is easy. ]

Our work is largely to care for rifts. Ensure they do not wreak havoc upon the countryside. Humble work, nothing like the grandeur of an Exalted March.

[filotimo]

[ That earns Byerly a sidelong glance, and the distinct pause of one putting pieces together in their mind. There is, after all, a formidable rift over Nascere. ]

I see. How is it you care for rifts?

[bouchonne]

Sometimes, a person will catch a shard of something in their hand.

[ He turns his own hand upwards - it's devoid of any mote, but all he has to illustrate. ]

It gives them a relationship with rifts.

[filotimo]

And what of the others?

[ Perhaps it would be more accurate to capitalize that word. Others. So-called demons, rifters. Madi studies the Lord Ambassador's profile, watching the shadows cast by the candle-lit walkway for any shift in his expression. How do you feel about the company you keep, Lord Rutyer? ]

[bouchonne]

Those without anchor shards?

[ His expression is pleasantly guileless. ]

[filotimo]

Those who fall from the rifts.

hmmm I did not receive this tag, suspicious, dreamwidth

[bouchonne]

Ah, they all have those shards, too.

[ He wiggles his fingers. ]

They are a great asset in saving the common folk.

[filotimo]

Do the common folk agree? Even as far north as Nascere, rumors circulate about demons in the Inquisition's employ.

[bouchonne]

Is Nascere where you hail from, madame?

[filotimo]

No.

[ She may have been born there, she may fight to reclaim it, but it has not yet earned the title of home. Someone else, not someplace, holds that distinction. ]

But its fate is linked to that of myself and the people in my charge.

[bouchonne]

[ Hmmmmm. ]

Do tell.

[filotimo]

[ How easy it would be to simply deny him. No, I do not think I will. ]

What do you know of Nascere, Lord Ambassador?

[bouchonne]

Largely what I have learned from Captain Flint.

[ And, you know, a number of intelligence reports. Those have helped, too. ]

[filotimo]

Do tell.

[bouchonne]

[ The presumption. ]

An island ruled by pirates desperate to overthrow Tevinter's rule. Near-lawless, brutal, a land of brawlers and cutthroats.

[filotimo]

[ you wanna talk about presumption? ]

And this sounds like the island from which I hail?

[bouchonne]

[ An innocent smile. ]

Not a bit. It simply sounds like an island whose fate is tied with you and yours.

[filotimo]

[ That gets something like a smile. ]