open

[inkindled]

WHO: Matthias, Nikos, Salvio (tbd if Doki, Val, and Darras will get open stuff. how did I get all of these characters) + YOU
WHAT: just open stuff, man
WHEN: NOW
WHERE: various
NOTES: tiny bit of self-harm but it's so small and it gets fixed so fast

Comments

OPEN -- the rookery (like the real one not the comm)

[exsecutus]

[There is a very large and well cared-for raven that puts in regular appearances to the Gallows' rookery. His smooth black plumage and sleek head make him look like a cut-out of midnight whenever he appears. He is well-trained, does not jostle the other birds overmuch as he sits on a perch, eats his fill and then some, but does not peck at anyone's hands if they reach for him.

The letter today, tied tightly to his leg, bears an elaborate purple wax seal, an ornate letter A twisty with vines and blooming flowers. This mark is always upon what he is delivering, in regular correspondence.

Nikos tries to be at the rookery early to intercept, before anyone sees the raven or the letter or the seal. This is difficult for him, after a late night, and he stumbles up the last few steps this morning, looking disheveled and irritated. Breathing heavily, he leans against the wall--after he's checked the patch for caked-on birdshit.]

[sulahnan]

[ Normally, Batty Batkins lives in the aerie with the griffons, but sometimes he finds his way to the rookery, and since she didn't find the giant fluffy creature cuddling up under Chawcey's wing, this seemed like the next best place to look.

So she's here, with an oblong basket of nearly-too-far-gone fruits from the kitchen when Nikos stumbles into view. Athessa turns to look, sees who it is, and hesitates. They haven't spoken since Sonia's party, when she took her frustration out on both him and Kostos. There's a gnawing little voice telling her she should probably apologize...but she doesn't. Not yet, anyway. ]

...Mornin'.

[exsecutus]

[Nikos rolls his eyes around to look at her. Then he closes his eyes and breathes out. It isn't exasperation, exactly.]

Mm.

[Dull and dry-mouthed, he swallows hard. Too early. Still with his eyes closed, he lifts one hand and taps his chest.]

Nikos. [And, in case she needs more prompting,] The friendly one.

[sulahnan]

[ She rolls her eyes. ]

Yeah, I know, [ Dumbass. ] dumbass.

[ ...Whoops. She taps herself the same way, even if his eyes stay closed for the bit. ]

Athessa. The dumb one.

[exsecutus]

[Still with his eyes closed, an appreciative little smirk hitches up the left corner of Nikos' mouth. Which is his way of saying good one, without actually saying it, because you can't just say those things aloud.

But she hangs out with Kostos, so probably that's well-known to her already.

He shoves away from the wall and slumps over to the raven, which watches his approach with glittering black eyes and a cocked head.]

Up here writing to your smart twin?

[sulahnan]

Yeah. That's what all the fruit's for.

[ She lifts it, slightly, in case he hadn't seen the basket that's as big as her torso. (Which isn't that big, actually.) ]

[exsecutus]

Fuck off.

[It's almost amiable. The raven gives a qwork of greeting as Nikos reaches it, and patiently lets him remove the letter fixed to its leg.]

I like to drink when I write. Makes it easier to find things to say. Maybe fruit is your vice, how the fuck should I know.

[sulahnan]

Elfroot is my vice. The fruit is for Batty.

[ She says it plainly, with a little drop of doesn't everyone know this?

And, upon hearing his name, the eagle-sized bat chitters in his corner of the rookery. A canvas sheet has been set up like a tent for the creature to cling to, just like his smaller relatives in Rivain and Antiva do with broad leaves. Athessa walks over to Batty Batkins and offers him the basket, only for the bat to clamber onto her back with his snuffling yellow snout resting over her shoulder. ]

So if you didn't drink, you'd have less to say?

[exsecutus]

[Animals. Nikos shoots Batty and his mistress a look askance, then goes back to try to untie the fiddly bit of leather cording that holds the tube that contains the letter, which is all lashed to the slightly scaly leg of a bird that is patient but shifting its weight and making that quork noise at him, while the birds on the surrounding perches are all making quiet bird noises and rustling their feathers and things.

It is too, too early for this.]

Yes. Just imagine it. We might even be friends.

[sulahnan]

[ She laughs, just one amused hah as she grabs a piece of fruit and holds it up to Batty to take. ]

Right.

[ As Batty scarfs down the fruit, Athessa tips her head away from his mouth (gross, Batty, you cute little monster), and thinks for a moment. ]

Sorry. For — ya know. Being an ass.

[exsecutus]

[Stupid fat fingers working at the stupid tiny knot, Nikos snorts. The raven ruffles his feathers.]

You'll have to be more specific.

[sulahnan]

[ Eyeroll. ]

Forget it.

[exsecutus]

[Also with an eyeroll--]

Come on. I liked you better when you were being bitchy.

[At last, he succeeds in untying the knot--somewhat clumsily, jarring the raven's leg and earning an indignant squark for the effort. Scowling, Nikos pops open the tube and shakes the scroll into his hand. The wax seal is heavy enough to influence its fall.]

In case you haven't noticed, the Averesches don't do apologies.

[sulahnan]

Yeah well, in case you haven't noticed, the Averesches are none of my business.

[ Her Kostos impression is...actually pretty damn good. ]

I'd rather be bitchy at you for better reasons than that stupid party.

[exsecutus]

He's such a cunt.

[Kos. He got that impression of hers--cracked a smile at it, even, as he shoves the letter into his pocket and seals the tube back up again.]

You have my permission to be bitchy at me for better reasons. We do not have to talk about it.

[excipio]

[ There are times when Caspar doesn't set foot in Gallows for weeks, and the routine they've got is mostly that there isn't one: sometimes the letters are frequent, by raven or by messenger. It'd be easy to assume he's in Kirkwall when the letters are that quick, or at least somewhere close; skipping the house calls, lying low, busy. Sometimes the letters are few and far between, and very occasionally they're unanswered until Nikos tries the long route — waiting days for delivery to Antiva, then waiting however many more for the letters to mysteriously find Caspar elsewhere.

He does an alright job of keeping Nikos apprised of where he'll be, all things considered. The silences usually come with a warning. The arrivals — not as often, but sometimes.

Not this time. There's no letter, just him in the rookery, sitting on an old stool near one of the narrow windows and feeding a very large and well cared-for raven some fruit. He gives Nikos a fond smile as he catches his breath, carefully angling an offered grape to avoid being bit. The letter's undisturbed. ]

If you intend to make morning runs a habit, I'd suggest a lighter shirt.

[exsecutus]

[Too breathless to respond verbally, Nikos rolls his head against the wall so he can look around at Caspar, and makes a rude gesture in his direction.

He doesn't mean it. Or, rather, he does, sort of, mean it, but it belies the other feelings that he has upon just hearing Caspar's voice--the way his stomach turns upside-down and his lungs constrict and his heart skips. And looking at him--that warmth that spreads through him, like when you turn your face toward the sun. All very childish and something he should have outgrown at sixteen, but that's the effect that Caspar has on him.

Once he's caught his breath--]

Welcome home. [And also--] Don't feed it, you'll spoil it.

[excipio]

I'll spoil it.

[ It's a very well cared-for bird. Its head puffs up as he gently scritches the back of its neck, black eyes ticking over to watch Nikos expectantly.

Caspar's curiosity wants Nikos to get on with it and read the note, too, but he's better at poker than the raven is. All he's telegraphing is nonchalance, like he'd be content to feed ravens and make small talk all morning. ]

Thank you. Kirkwall's officially home, now?

[exsecutus]

That-- [the glossiness, the plumpness, the utterly indulgent way that the raven permits the scritching] --is not my fault.

[The bird tips its head in Nikos' direction with a sqwark, as if challenging that statement. Nikos scowls and pushes away from the wall at last.]

And that was sarcasm. I fucking hate it here. And I assume you do as well, or else you'd be here more. [Which sounds like a bitchy boyfriend thing to say, and Nikos scowls at himself, and snatches up the note.] What brings you back?

[excipio]

[ Caspar smiles broadly at the list of corrections and the assumption, which isn't entirely wrong. Kirkwall's very literal walls and -towns are hardly his first choice. He lightly kicks Nikos while he's in range to grab the letter, leather boot nudging his shin. ]

You. [ Half true, wholly earnest. He idly retrieves another grape from the cloth he's got bunched in one hand. There's only a few pieces of fruit, which either means he only brought a few or he's already fed the bird the lion's share. ] I thought I'd stay for a bit. Whose fault is it?

[ Other than his, obviously. He's feeding the raven that second (?) grape. ]

[exsecutus]

[His gaze had jerked up at the kick, and then visibly--if imperceptibly to anyone besides Caspar--his expression softens. Which on Nikos means less glaring, but again, Caspar will be able to read that. And the way his shoulders hunch, the little tug of something like a smile--it's not completely true, he knows that, Caspar doesn't do anything for Nikos and Nikos alone, and he would never want him to--but it still feels good to hear it. And good, too, to hear that Caspar will stay. Better than anything.

He quickly scuffs that near-smile to a frown, his version of neutral, and turns his attention back to the letter.]

The Averesches.

[Which quells some of his near-good humor, too. He ignores the raven-feeding, and goes for one of his daggers to cut open the letter.]

They're very generous. As you know. It extends even to animals.

[excipio]

[ He does know, and he didn't really need to ask; he didn't have to open the letter to recognize the seal. There are plenty of things he knows or could know without asking. He could open said letters and deftly reseal them, or he could ask any number of the agents who occasionally check in on Nikos — strictly under order to make sure he's still alive and kicking and not in imminent trouble, never to pry.

It's much more interesting to ask. He's used to secrets having more power when someone doesn't know you're onto them, but Nikos' secrets? Completely worthless unless they're willingly given. ]

Yes, of course— and Spiders. I think I still owe them a thank you letter for their generous buy-in.

[ a 10+ year overdue letter for an illegal thing they didn't know they were funding would be polite, yes ]

[exsecutus]

Don't thank them.

[Nikos punctuates this statement by ripping the dagger along the letter and shaking it open. He scans a few lines.]

It wasn't done for thanks. And my mother would write back to you, and if you struck up a correspondence with my mother, I would jump out of this tower and let my brains get smashed out on the rocks. And you'd no longer have any reason to come to Kirkwall.

[excipio]

And they'd make some poor maid clean it up. [ Hardly seems fair. The raven takes the last piece of fruit, clocks the empty handkerchief, then hops off down the window sill to eat in peace. It gives the uncanny impression of someone politely bowing out of an obviously private conversation. ]

How are they faring?

[ Casual, like it's any other day instead of several months into Nevarra's lopsided collapse. The fact that he's asking at all is telling enough. ]

[exsecutus]

[Nikos' mouth quirks up at the corners. Some poor maid. He doesn't look up from the letter. Still reading, he reports--]

Antiva is lovely this time of year. Boats on the water. I told you they have a dog now. Hylactor. It bit someone. They love the damn thing. They're sad, [he turns the letter over, keeps scanning,] pity, blah blah blah, poor bleeding Nevarra. That's just polite. Lapsed misplaced patriotism.

[Having decided that the letter is no threat, Nikos shoves the dagger back in at his belt and shoots Caspar a look.]

Easy to say from a fucking mansion.