open | cloudreach

[hassaran]

WHO: Yseult + others to come
WHAT: A catch-all for open prompts and maybe some closed starters
WHEN: Roughly now-ish, or backdated throughout April
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: If you'd like something in particular ping me on plurk/discord to discuss!

Comments

[archademode]

Approval is good, all things considered. Gabranth takes to its presence more than most, though that fondness hardly makes itself known in an expression as stolid as the helmet he now keeps tucked in against his side.

He’s hardly a man for guile or tact, there’s no subtlety to anything he manages, but for this— for a matter as delicate as past betrayals and present aspirations— he does try to keep his footfalls soft, figuratively speaking.

“I have been told he is of poor standing within your organization. That there are— justifiably— complaints against him that are entirely legitimate in nature, and not to be forgotten.” This, after all, is easier a topic to sink into than his own introduction or promise of usefulness; should she ask, he’ll not shirk response, but until then he would prefer not to linger on the subject of his own life's conspectus.

“Thus I feel it important to bring to your attention the matter of his conduct during the last mission I attended at his side.”

A slight pause, before:

“Which is to say, he performed admirably under duress.”

[hassaran]

"I see," gives him nothing, Yseult observing this reference and the man offering it with the same steady attention as before. A slight pause of her own follows, made retroactively expectant when she prompts,

"Go on."

[archademode]

It suits him just as well. He, who had spent so long at the side of Vayne Solidor: Consul, stolen Emperor— a tactician without a hand to show anyone, least of all himself.

"It was his magic that afforded us a distinct advantage when we set ourselves against the stormrider, and it was his diplomatic prowess that did— in addition to the work of the others present— secure fair bonds in the aftermath of that battle, amongst gathered Orlesian nobility.

If he is known for cowardice, then let this stem the bleeding, at least in part, for the dragon struck him dumb with fear, and yet he did still act in our favor. Put himself at risk, so that we might succeed."

His gaze shifts slightly, lowering in brief consideration for the creature curled soft across her lap— though his focus returns only a beat later. He is, after all, better trained than to overtly show disrespect without meaning to.

"War, as I have known it, spares little concern in regards to upset, or past grievances. With this in mind, know that I only offer my perspective for future efforts, where unique adroitness may yet provide necessary benefit, regardless of the divide between divisions."

[hassaran]

This is more words than she might have expected from a walking suit of armor. Yseult absorbs them in silence, a hand straying to gently redirect claws away from blouse as Rosana, drowsing, stretches.

"I appreciate the information," she replies with a faint tilt of her head that suggests the matter is noted. And closed, for now. "And what of your own efforts on this mission?"

[archademode]

“My own?”

This time, when his attention flicks away, it’s in clear show of thought. Truth be told he’d expected to speak little— if any— about his own endeavors on the Exalted Plains, at least in comparison to all talk of past qualifications or bloodied strengths. Confessions that had sat poorly with Commander Flint, though Gabranth might argue Yseult's poised acceptance of everything said thus far might make her hypothetically better suited to endure such talk without (quite literally) throwing a book at him.

“I performed as requested, aide to the Daughter of Denerim and her allies.” Bulwark, shield, such roles he favors keenly. “The beast was slain without loss of life or limb. I claim but a fraction of responsibility, as any present would.”

The topic of diplomatic efforts he lets lie: there, more than anywhere else, he can promise no use. Limits that perhaps they’re both well aware of by way of armor and dour proclivities, track marks that speak for themselves.

[hassaran]

"So I read in the report." But she doesn't push for greater detail; his answer's limits are telling on their own.

"Would you say that missions of that type are the best use of your abilities, or are there others you might place at our disposal, as asset and ally?" Yseult may not be physically taking notes, but she's not doing anything to make this feel less like a job interview.

[archademode]

He pauses there, head tilted slightly lower as he thinks, leaving his own sharp brow line cast in faint shadow. A narrow collection of seconds burned before he decides there's little point in sparing her particulars of his past. If she's willing to listen, she's more than capable of filtering out usefulness without his own assumptions getting in the way.

“In my world I was appointed to serve as sword and shield for Emperor Gramis Gana Solidor and his two sons, Vayne Carudas Solidor and Larsa Ferrinas Solidor. The elder of which was established as both Consul and tactician, and it was by his order that I did briefly discard my armor in favor of taking on the guise of Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, trusted advisor to King Raminas of Dalmasca.”

Gabranth's own elder brother, Basch fon Ronsenburg. But he leaves that detail aside, for as he sees it there’s no need to drag anything beyond simple truths into his own assessment.

“With King Raminas’ witnessed death at my hands, the whole of his nation blamed Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg for his assassination, and our Empire thus gained sovereignty over Dalmasca and its people without further warfare or negotiated terms of surrender.”

It is, in fact, an undoubtedly long winded way of saying:

“To speak plainly: I have always been a blunt instrument, such is my own nature, but if necessary I am more than capable of breaching the confines of my own limitations. Better to succeed in war at cost, than to preen or posture over matters of comfort.”

[hassaran]

Don't worry, Yseult's content to balance out his word usage and keep the conversation within its overall quota.

She's taken in everything he's said so far with apparent equanimity and that doesn't change now. Maybe this dour slab of armor stooping to sully his honor with deception should be a surprise, but everything about him thus far says he loves nothing so much as an order. That might be more remarkable. Whether it's useful is a different question:

"How will you decide what is necessary here, in an unfamiliar war?"

[archademode]

“It is not my place to decide.” The answer is simple, it comes without frustration or fanfare— or even a twitch of pinched consideration wound across his brow. Where he stands opposite to her, his chin lifts a little higher: order is order, and he knows that much.

“However in the event guidance is an impossibility, success will always remain priority. Should I fail in one aspect— I would give consideration to another approach.”