faderift | closed.

WHO: john + yseult
WHAT: Summary of content
WHEN: backdated to mid-august, post abomination
WHERE: the gallows
NOTES: nothing objectionable

There are certain gambles John wouldn't have made a week ago. But the rumors of Nascere had shaken loose some reckless impulse in him, knocked free entirely by the incident with the abomination. Reassurances aside, John is aware of risks that are going to need to be taken some time in the near future. Whatever the news they receive, Nascere is going to to be attended to and what that might require of John—

He can't predict it. But he can work to stack the deck in his favor, to seek some minor aid where it's found. If there are resources close at hand, why not reach for them?

Which is what brings him for the first time to Yseult's office as the day winds to a close, heat easing slightly as the sun falls. His entry had been punctuated by the low thunk of a wine bottle set upon her desk. Is it not customary to bring some minor gift when you're about to seek a favor from someone?

"If you have a moment, I have some need of your expertise in a personal matter."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The door is closed behind him against the possibility of being heard from the hall before John accepts the offer, levering himself into the chair before considering an answer.

He'd thought of a few ways to begin this conversation, but in the moment finds himself settling for a straightforward question—

"I wondered if you have any contacts skilled at seeking people out."

"I do," says Yseult after a moment's further consideration of him. She sits back in her chair, settling into the shape of it without pushing it to tilt, hands folding now in her lap. "But whether they would suit your situation I cannot say without knowing more."

As ever, there is a moment where John wonders at the wisdom of this conversation. It's possible to change his mind even now, and yet—

"I find myself waiting confirmation on the nature of exactly what's occurred," John admits, tone steady. "So you'll have to forgive me, if I can't give you the most clear picture of the exact circumstances."

If Madi survived, if their people scattered across those minor spits of islands in the north or fled to Llomerryn, what an impossible task it would be to track them. John has considered that at length, knowing that outcome to be the best possible scenario were it true Nascere had fallen.

"There's no benefit for Riftwatch, to be clear. Other than my peace of mind, whatever that's worth to you."

Some flicker of humor there.

"I see." She smiles, in response to that flicker and in polite reply to his clarification. It's good to know, and that he makes no attempt this time to justify it as Riftwatch business, interesting.

"Why don't you tell me what you do know," she says as she rises from her desk, crossing to the sideboard where a collection of bottles and glasses live. She pours two glasses, one with a few fingers of dark rum in it, the other with that or wine--whatever John typically drinks with Flint--and offers it over as she retakes her seat. "And we'll see what I can do."

It's either nice or very suspicious that she has his favored drink on hand. Jury's out.

"There's been some unrest in the northern islands," John says at last, delicate around the edges of the rumor itself. "And I'm concerned for the well being of someone I left behind there."

Tilting the cup in his hand, John smiles faintly.

"I suppose the question becomes, do you have someone well placed to seek someone out in the north?"

And, unspoken, what is that favor going to cost me?

"The islands near Seheron," is not quite a question. She's done her homework on more than his beverage preferences. It's a difficult part of the world in many respects, but that goes without saying; he wouldn't be here asking for a favor if it weren't.

She's silent for a moment, considering the question through a mouthful of rum before she nods. "I may have someone. I'll need a name and description to pass along."

Despite having come here with full intention of soliciting her help, John can't manage to stave off a beat of hesitation. Of course, Yseult will need this information. But John still balks at the idea of giving it up. Madi's existence has been kept so close a secret, held between himself and Flint since the moment of their arrival. Instinct flinches from speaking too much of her aloud, even now.

"Madi Scott," John says after a moment, before sipping from his cup. "She's slim, about my height. No scars to speak of. Unfortunately, she does have a talent for avoiding easy marks to identify herself by."

A pause, then a low chuckle preceding the admission: "And I doubt she'd take very kindly to the idea that I'd sent someone to seek her out in this manner, regardless of circumstances."

Something he assumes Yseult might understand, even if it leaves John without some clear point with which to direct her towards.

Yseult's slow nod follows on the heels of quicker understanding. There's something like empathy in the brief flash of a smile earned by his self-deprecation, and in the way she asks:

"Do you have any portrait of her? Or would you be willing to meet with our artist to have one made? It wouldn't need to be shared widely, if you'd prefer, but it would greatly increase our chances of success. Especially if she isn't easily distinguished and might not travel under her own name." Which seems a safe assumption for anyone Silver cares about.

A portrait. The idea of one seems like an almost hilarious luxury, come so late that it nearly doesn't matter at all.

"I'd prefer it shared between you, me and whichever artist you set to the task. You have someone for that?"

Of course, quite a bit hinges on the chosen artist. John folds both hands around his cup for a moment, watching her face.

"I can only guess at where she would go. We never discussed the possibility of her having to flee somewhere beyond what was familiar to us both."

"And my contact in the north," Yseult adds to the list with a confirming tilt of her head. Or else what's the point? "There's someone in the Seneschal's office I use for sketches of contacts and suspected agents for our files. He needn't know anything but her face."

She clearly doesn't foresee any objections to this, moving straight onward to: "Might she come here?"

At that, John leans back slightly in his chair. His expression is contemplative, gaze shifting past Yseult to examine the trappings of her office while he tries to consider what Madi might do.

"I don't know how to answer that," John says after a moment. "What I hope for is impossible to completely separate from what might happen."

Unspoken: If she can be found. If she's alive. He hasn't said as much to Yseult, doesn't feel the need to confirm any rumors she's heard.

"She'll make the best choice for herself, and for her people. If that means joining us here..."

A pause, one hand making a small arc in front of him. His head tips, looking at her. Had she arrived here first and Darras followed, or the other way around?

"I couldn't ask her," he finishes. "I assume that's a complication you can understand."

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