faderift | [closed] opening doors: tevinter

Edited 2021-03-28 20:51 (UTC)

The going has been slow and treacherous. It began as insensibly digging through the walls of Florettis' cellar in the hours when she's less likely to notice the noise, though having Alexandrie present means it's all the easier to keep the landlady distracted.
That leaves most of the digging to Edgard and Mado, the latter of whom quickly determined that shoveling was far less efficient than simply transforming into a dog and using his Maker-given front paws. It would have been a surprise for Alexandrie, who came downstairs to find that instead of two dirty men there was a dirty man and a dog, but what better way to come out with it, than in the service of utility?

Mado, being the faster digger, hit the sleeping powder first. It puffed into his face and none were the wiser until Edgard, catching up to him in the tunnel, discovered an insensible dogskin rug, who was slowly roused and returned to human form long enough to warn his companion of the booby traps.

----

The next day, still in the process of trying to break through the vault's foundation, comes a pocket of choking powder: this time it blasts straight into Edgard's respiratory system, meriting a loud coughing fit that threatens to alert the landlady...
...from deep within the tunnel.

Thinking fast, Mado transforms, whips off his jacket, and throws it over Edgard's head to muffle the sound.

Edited 2021-03-28 21:13 (UTC)

As directed by the fishing boat owner, Edgard hinges open one of the crates they're meant to hide inside.

"It's full of fish!" He hisses under his breath to the others. "Are-are they alive?"

Edgard grits his teeth. He's not going to be the first one to go in there.

Coughing, choking, and gagging, Edgard falls with a thud to the ground, presumably to die.

With a sigh of dismay that sounds suspiciously like a canine whine, Mado peers over Edgard's shoulder.

"I think so," he says, "...they'd smell worse, if they were dead."

Edited 2021-03-28 21:45 (UTC)

The Lady Alexandrie Lucette Seraphine Arienne of House Asgard (née de la Fontaine) was wearing less in the way of cosmetics than usual— due to travel— and upon the opening of their intended berths for this final part of the voyage she is wearing less in the way of facial expressions than usual as well. This is—

"Intolerable." Beneath her breath, but firmly stated. "How am I meant to make any manner of favourable impression at all upon anyone upon our arrival covered in—" one of the fish flaps a bit. Alive indeed. Alexandrie makes a noise of profound displeasure.

"I suppose I might curry a great deal of favour with the harbour cats," she finishes dryly.

Edgard pulls a face as a fish flops and shudders a little. He then nods, humming in the Lady's direction.

"Harbor cats could be helpful." He states equally dryly. "You first then."

Edgard gives her a winning smile and then sweeps his arm towards the open crate gallantly.

"I like cats," Mado opines, "maybe now they'll like me more."

Breaking the tableau and the indecision of who's to go first, he steps around Edgard to start lowering himself into the crate.
Though he's pulling a This Smells Terrible face, it transitions quickly into a helpless grin as he looks back at the others. Look, it's no problem at all!

It's an extreme problem, and she's not going to forget this particular moment of fishy gallantry.

Alexandrie closes her eyes and very visibly takes a moment to breathe and set all of this aside before stepping determinedly into the crate after Mado. At the very least she's not likely to ruin the sturdy cloth of her travelling dress (although if it smells even the slightest bit like fish after it's been properly washed, it's being repurposed as kindling).

The fish are slimy, and they're moving, and in contrast to Mado's grin her face reports that she hates it so, so much.

"How long must we—" and then she cuts herself off and holds up a hand, immediately thinking better of her question. "No, do not tell me, or I will be counting moments rather than thinking of anything of use."

"Too long." Edgard replies.

Edgard stands and pouts as the other two climb in. He gives a long suffering sigh. He climbs up to the edge, looks in at the other two neck deep in wriggling fish and leaps in as if into a swimming pool.

His gusto will probably not help the fish situation.

The grin doesn't last long, of course. Especially not when Edgard hauls back to leap into the crate, which merits a nonverbal gasp of protest that becomes a groan of dismay when fish go flopping everywhere.

"Now some of them are dead," he remarks, miserably.

The fish are gone. None of that happened. (At least, not in any way that Alexandrie is prepared to discuss at this moment.)

What has happened was the discreet rental of a room and several tubs of hot water at an inn near the docks for the initial quick clean-up to make them presentable enough to make a discreet rental of a room at an inn in a nicer district of the city possible, where Alexandrie has arranged again for baths.

The lady herself is happily soaking in her tub behind a screen, her fingers idly tracing the glyphs that keep the water warm.

"Do not forget to pick a scented oil. It little matters which, but you ought to match."

"Match each other?" Mado asks, popping the cork out of one little oil bottle, which he sniffs delicately before setting it back. "Or match you?"

He's been content enough to bathe (though the second one is a little strange), in general just glad to be included. He casts a sympathetic smile Edgard's way, because he knows he must be suffering greatly.

Alexandrie is intending to pretend this is some manner of daring new spa treatment. Perhaps the slime— no— oils are good for the skin. And the sinuous flopping of too many fish, trying desperately to get into some of the scant water to breathe, is a... massage technique.

"So we do not join them, let us again review our identities and the general scope of our planning." This is going to be so much worse shortly when they're closed in, might as well have a distraction. "I shall be Melusine, the recent widow of a moderately successful antiquities trader from Vyrantium named Valentus, who perished when he was thrown from a horse he was attempting to train— his one hobby.

"I have come to Minrathous to stay for as long as it takes to bring my late husband's various accounts in the city to a close, which gives us any cover we need for odd looking moveables going into and out of the space." Normally she'd gesture toward Edgard here, but that would necessitate moving her arms through the fish and that's not going to happen so she simply nods towards him.

"Edgard shall be Florian, the chief keeper of Valentus's accounts. You shall be overseeing and making note of everything that enters and leaves, and be as secretive and irritable and pompous as you please. Mado," she turns to nod at the other man, "shall be Festo, Melusine's personal valet. A slave rather than a servant, I am afraid, as such will be less noted, although that means you shall enjoy relative anonymity and pass beneath notice. As you are both in service to my family, if either of you find yourself in a difficult spot for any reason you may rely upon the excuse that you act upon my order and it is I who shall be responsible for sorting it out."

She looks back and forth between them. Questions?

Edgard tries to shove a fish away which flops back towards him, so he scrunches up his face and punches it slightly. It doesn't flop back.

"I have a question." He asks. "Why does your name not start with an F?"

Mado shakes his head good-naturedly, with a vacant smile in place of the abject disgust he feels and refuses to express.

Edgard waves his arms wildly in front of him to form a big X.

"I took a bath. a bath! Which is against my principles, but I draw the line at," Edgard makes an expression like one about to lose their lunch and gasps out the rest of sentence in a harsh whisper, "scented oil."

A little splish noise as she flicks the surface of the water behind the screen. It's unconcerned rather than cross. That line will move.

"Each other," she replies breezily in the direction of Mado's voice, "although you must have a lighter touch with it, Mado." Then, just as lightly, after enough space to indicate she's speaking to the second party: "It may be against your principles, monsieur, but Florian has no such compunctions. In fact, Florian is extremely well put together and quite vain about it. He smells delightful and has not a single hair out of place."

There's the sound of water cascading, cloth noises, and then Alexandrie's face appears alongside the screen wearing a smile so pleasant there's little chance that it's not layered over iron.

"And, for the tenure of our stay in Minrathous, you are Florian."

"Two is a matter of pleasant amusement, three is uncommonly memorable."

Other questions?

Edgard looks at her and blinks.

"That...makes a lot of sense."

Seemingly ignoring the fish, he pauses thoughtfully.

"You are very smart." He says it with the air of discovering the concept of time.

"A light touch is nearly too much," Mado says conversationally, dabbing a bit of one oil on his wrist and bringing it near to his nose to give it a whiff. Though his olfactory senses aren't superhuman, he does notice more than the average person, and finds it nigh-overpowering.

But he beams right back at Alexandrie when she peeks around the screen, mindless of his own state of undress (it's all right, he's covered by the water).

"Have you never played make believe, Edgard?"

Edited 2021-04-20 04:36 (UTC)

"Make believe? lied before if that's what you mean." He frowns and adds, "Only when I have to."

He gives the oils a withering stare and sighs dramatically. Edgard closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he says in a stilted voice.

"Good day. It is, I, Florian. Please hand me an oil please." His face is very blank, but at the last moment he breaks and shudders.

Alexandrie is outwardly delighted and inwardly recalibrating.

There's a little soft inward delight too. As a woman slowly recovering from a life spent drowning in deception, those who seem almost functionally incapable of being other than they are give her a unique kind of joy. Like finding a small flower growing somewhere unexpected.

She can work with stilted. Perhaps Florian is now a standoffish prig! But if there is a chance to help Edgard think of it differently...

"Ah, c'est bon!" She exclaims, clapping. "You need not worry, should you find the idea of prolonged falsehood distasteful. Think of us as actors telling a story together, and you might find it amusing to freely behave in a way you should hardly do were you yourself!"

"That's not what I mean," Mado answers easily, but doesn't correct him, allowing Alexandrie to speak instead as he scrubs at his arms.

"It's not really falsehood, anyway! Or at least, not in a way that matters. It's mummery."

He grins back over at Edgard.

"If I'm to be mostly silent, that in itself is a pretense."

"I, Florian, understand you both." Edgard intones in his stilted voice. He puts the oil on his arms, still with a blank face, every so often his eyes widening in horror for a split second.

"Good sir, are you not someone who is very very silent--" Edgard thinks for a moment. "Festo?"

Edgard bows low to Alexandrie. "And Madame!" He points at her. "Florian does not remember thy name! What story shall you tell?"

In answer Alexandrie pulls her head back behind the screen, then appears in full wrapped in a plush robe to proclaim in a soft voice with a Tevene accent:

"I, Melusine, have tragically lost my beloved husband," her eyebrows draw together and up over a shuddering inhale, a more theatrical expression of sorrow than she would use in practice. "It has broken my heart, but I must wear a brave face and conclude his business in the city. It is—" sniff! "—what he would want."

Opening his mouth as though to answer, Mado quickly catches on and closes it again with a pleasant smile-- ah, we're in character now.

He proceeds to look Very Invested in Melusine's tragic tale, his eyes glittering with emotion.

Edgard looks from Alexandrie to Mado and breaks character.

"Why is everyone crying?" He whispers in distress. "I thought we were pretending!" He wrings his hands a little.

[closed] opening doors: tevinter

GETTING INTO MINRATHOUS

THE LANDLADY

DIG AND DIG AND DIG AND DIGGETY

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Here Fishie Fishie

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BUT FIRST, MAKEOVER (yeah yeah yeah)

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