WHO: Mhav, Jone, Amos, and some others. WHAT: This is a catch-all post for some starters I owe. WHEN: Post-dream, Mid-Guardian. WHERE: Gallows, Kirkwall generally. NOTES: I will keep you informed if something horrible happens.
The very few times in his life that Mhavos has relied on luck, he has been lucky. Accordingly, he tries to push his luck as little as possible, saving it for when he will most be in need of it. Inevitably, it fails now.
Darkness is a very nice thing, especially when it allows you to use shortcuts you wouldn't usually. Coming back from a long discussion with Gwenaƫlle means getting back as unnoticed as he left. There are cuts, in the rafters of the Gallows, and a lucky thing, then, that almost no one ever looks up. Luckier still that it is dark, even as a storm kicks in. Flashes of brightness would give away his slow climb through an office, down a corridor, above the stairs. Yet, so far, he has been lucky.
And then he is not.
Lightening crashes from the harbor, and one of many nooks and corners of the Gallows is bathed breifly in pale light. For the quick or clever, it illuminates Mhavos' quiet climb through a passageway between rooms, up high in the rafters. And how terribly lucky would Mhavos be, if he wasn't sure Commander Flint-- carrying some books from some place to another, reports, he was hardly paying attention-- had his eyes just in the right place to destroy Mhavos' vaunted stealth.
FOR FLINT.
Darkness is a very nice thing, especially when it allows you to use shortcuts you wouldn't usually. Coming back from a long discussion with Gwenaƫlle means getting back as unnoticed as he left. There are cuts, in the rafters of the Gallows, and a lucky thing, then, that almost no one ever looks up. Luckier still that it is dark, even as a storm kicks in. Flashes of brightness would give away his slow climb through an office, down a corridor, above the stairs. Yet, so far, he has been lucky.
And then he is not.
Lightening crashes from the harbor, and one of many nooks and corners of the Gallows is bathed breifly in pale light. For the quick or clever, it illuminates Mhavos' quiet climb through a passageway between rooms, up high in the rafters. And how terribly lucky would Mhavos be, if he wasn't sure Commander Flint-- carrying some books from some place to another, reports, he was hardly paying attention-- had his eyes just in the right place to destroy Mhavos' vaunted stealth.