O1 ♚ I'M IN NEED OF AN ANSWER

[slaveking]

WHO: Marcel Gerard & you
WHAT: A vampire chillin' in Thedas gets a log with both open and closed starter options. Running on rooftops, hanging at the tavern, murder practice, the usual.
WHEN: December
WHERE: Various throughout the fortress Skyhold
NOTES: Up to PG-13 for language, will note more in subject headers as they arise

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[foxsays]

There's no true harm in sharing, not when most of this is what she can pick up in a book because if more of them fit in and seem to understand, there's a chance it'll pay off for all of them. It's too easy to stand out here and when you do, bad things seem to happen, keep your head down, help, ask the right questions without seeming to pry too much. There's not the same security she's used to though she might be getting close to have people she can fully trust with her back.

Sussing out a fellow rifter poses more of a challenge than the natives because all they have to go on are what another says, another reason to only say she's a thief which leads her to believe he's not one. Almost ten years as one and she can spot her own quickly, surely she would be able to tell and thieves aren't proud so openly, it's different, quiet in the streets and loud when they're somewhere private to boast. Assassin flits through her mind too but seeing as those she knows are specialised, she can't be sure she'd know what to look for if any of them have some sort of 'type'.

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, always shoot straight. Or stab, a bow is less discrete than what I'm used to." And that still manages to wrinkle her nose, used to the weight of a pistol on each hip but only Church actually knew what a gun was when she said that word, both of them acting like giddy children over something so simple. Not that she anticipates any real violence but any sort of tavern with people drinking has the risk of everything going spectacularly wrong, she's pulled herself out of enough trouble both on and off-duty over the years.

Still, Korrin tagging along isn't a bad idea as she weighs it up, twisting a bracelet round her wrist as she considers it. A native, former mercenary and a Vashoth mage, perhaps enough to deter some who might think even a gathering of rifters are an easy target. "I'll do all in my power to charm her," it won't take much, but sometimes you have to build yourself up. "The suits are the same, it's the queens that tend to get a reaction." From inside her coat and one of the many inner pocket she manages to pull out the cards, mindful of the wind as she hunts down the queens in the deck, presenting them with a smirk.

[slaveking]

If all it takes to make a thief is having stolen, Marcel would certainly qualify. He'd gone into orchards and come back out with fruit that he didn't own. Tried for a chicken when he was eight, but his mother's old friend had stopped him, afraid, and knowing that much worse consequences awaited than the sharp whipping he'd get when they found an apple core.

In a strange but rather real sense, he stole himself too. Slaves being more like things than people. Legally, his father had had him dead to rights.

But she's not wrong. He has pride in spades now, and it's in the way he stands, how frank his stare, the magnanimity with which he accepts help and the forthright confidence with which he approaches strangers. It's not exactly humility that makes it so easy for him to acknowledge his ignorance, but a certain lack of self-consciousness. It's a certain kind of a man, who falls through a hole in the sky to a different dimension, and retains his can-do attitude.

Though for a moment, he's just looking at fish titties.

"That's some impressive artwork," Marcel says. "I can see why the reaction." His eyes twinkle, laughter that doesn't quite reach an audible chuckle. "Considering there's so little -- artwork for viewing here at Skyhold. I don't think I've missed that, exploring the fort."

[foxsays]

Steal a way back home and she will make a legend of you Marcel by telling every captain she has ever known who will tell everyone else they know in every port they visit in turn.

"It does leave a lot to be desired of when there are so many guests but so few allies, no? This isn't the sort of place or organisation that has the reputation yet to get away with not putting their very best face on." Though it's not exactly her concern, doing things for the sake of appearance is familiar, putting on a show and dazzling the people with power and influence. "Impressions can be crucial, half of what the nobility has in a house isn't even because they like it, it's about showing off their money, their connections, often both."

Resources should of course go to the people that need help but sometimes you spend money to make money and there are times, heading into the main hall, or even instances like this where the brickwork collapses that she could cringe. People can be shallow, more worried about what the thing they're associated with and what it will do to their reputation and this? This isn't going to have them flocking to send help.

[slaveking]

Marcel inclines his head in agreement. He doesn't know a lot about the Inquisition yet, but enough about it and war in general that he understands why the absence of nice decor. Too busy fighting invading demons, and the erstwhile Tevinter evil lord of evil apparently sponsoring the influx. At some point, and soon, the war is probably going to become more real for him than that, but while he's kicking around the home front, he's mostly just glad to be in good company.

"Money and connections," he says. "Maybe someday that'll be us. And a clubhouse." A sinewy forefinger curls through the air, taps down on the mermaid that she's holding in her hands. Not stealing; he'll save that for a way back home. "We might could use your aesthetic sense if and when that all starts to happen for us."

It's subtle because he's so offhand about it, but she probably catches it. The way he says when instead of if.

"Is this an aquatic mythology theme for reasons, or you hiding a tail under those clothes?" It'd probably count as a lewd remark, but Marcel's still grinning genial, remembering that her eyes are up here, companionable in his demeanor. And she was frank enough about the reaction that her playing cards tend to get from people who haven't had the privilege of playing games in her homeworld.