open and closed.

[luaithre]

WHO: Marcus Rowntree and various.
WHAT: Activities.
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: Mainly the Gallows
NOTES: Some open prompts in the comments, but also works as a catch all for planned things. Let me know if you'd like to do something specific, or if we have CR, feel free to just hit me with a wild card honestly.

Comments

[satinet]

It would be difficult to tell from a distance or maybe even from up close, but technically speaking (and Cassius does so love technicalities) he is working. The seasonal gossip rags out of Orlais and, not to be outdone, Cumberland are printed on cheap accordion folded paper which when laid flat extend to invade the table space of the seat to either side. While they may not appear to be vital Riftwatch business, rest assured that the contents are all very relevant to the Diplomacy division. And if for some reason they are not relevant to the Ambassador's interests, then there are certainly kernels here are there which are deeply compelling to Cassius'.

And really, is there such a remarkable difference between the two? They are all more or less fighting for the same thing, yes?

That is not a conscious thought he is having in this very moment. If it were, he might casually redact it with, Well, maybe not all of us the moment that Marcus Rowntree sits down across from him.

Instead, Cassius looks patiently up from his Marquis this and Vidames thats and thinks very little before saying, "Why, if it isn't the man himself. To what do I owe the pleasure, Senior Enchanter?"

[luaithre]

There is a faintly confused flicker around the eyes for the flourish of that greeting, like not being wholly sure of what to make of it, before setting it aside. Yes. It's the man himself, then.

"Marcus," he supplies, reminds, "is fine."

He quests a look over the pages laid out on the table, noting them, neutral, then back to the other enchanter across from him. "I wished to know how you're finding your time here," he says. "Now that you've some seasons behind you."

[satinet]

With a flick of the fingers and a glint of the anchor light in his palm, the topmost pamphlet is folded over. Does he particularly care to hide the contents from his newly acquired company? Certainly not. If Marcus has some interest in the state of the Orlesian courts, and this only by approximation of what has become so tawdry that it warrants writing down, there is more printed on the reverse side. No, this is a show of benevolent good will more or less equal to—whatever this is.

"Maker, has it been that long already?" It has, and he has in fact been keenly aware of every day of it. "Well. I'm certain we must all have our complaints, but I will say that I've been pleasantly surprised by how ordinary all the work has been. Not at all like the hive of buzzing would-be scoundrels that certain rumors in Skyhold might have someone believe."

And then, more with the air of a confidant because why not we're being friends here, yes?: "I do miss the council. I'm surprised the mages here have organized no equivalent."

[luaithre]

"Perhaps we ought."

Not an enthusiastic rush towards the prospect, so much as picking up the prospect and holding it up for mutual analysis. Marcus thinks of other instances of their mages banding together, or at least, the moments he's witnessed and participated in; training in the foothills, or thoughts shared and plans unspooled in the interior of a ship.

He picks up his cup to drink from, elbows resting against the edge of the table. "What function did it serve?"

[satinet]

"The same function any meeting of minds with disparate opinions serves," he says, easy like that flick he'd used to fold the broadsheet. With a glimmer of humor— "To argue. And to distract ourselves from how little anyone is accomplishing out here."

Later when Kostos Averesch sets off his fire bomb over the crystal, Cassius may feel a small twinge of pleasure and something like homesickness all at once. Here though, his smile simply flexes and then is tucked away. He has spent too many hours in the company of Madame de Fer not to know how to regulate his sense of humor to an arch drip.

"Given all that's happened, it's become very easy for us to divide ourselves. Easier still, I estimate, once this little island broke away. The council has been attempting to minimize that damage within the Inquisition since. With how much success? Well—we have all heard stories of desertion. But tell me what you think the Order would love more than infighting among mages."

[luaithre]

Cassius talks, and Marcus drinks and listens. Feeling the familiar and always slightly weary churn of his own brain attempting to sift through words for information and intention and whatever else might slip through in between.

"We're not so much like a hive that way either," he inputs, his manner set to a certain conversational ease. "Besides our ordinariness. Riftwatch isn't of a single mind, and neither are its mages. But we've had no desertions," he adds. "I would think it less the in-fighting that might drive a mage away from a place, and more the inability to be heard."

He tips his head a little. "In one of the dreams we all experienced, last winter, there was stood a body called the College of Enchanters. Established by the mages of the Inquisition, who'd been recruited from the rebellion. Would you like to know about it?"

[satinet]

To say that here is when some little spark of interest catches in Cassius' startlingly green eyes would be disingenuous. He's been interested this whole time; why on earth is the likes of Marcus Rowntree making polite conversation with him? And no, indeed. In-fighting and bickering has little to do with it. But it certainly seems unlikely to encourage anyone to do much listening either, now does it?

But certainly there is a marked increase in his investment.

"I never quite did manage to get that story properly out of anyone. So by all means," is emphasized with a permissive turn of the hand. "I'd be delighted."

[luaithre]

Marcus glances down at the table between them, and it does take a second to sort through his memories, despite inviting this topic. Two dreams overlaying one another, fraying apart and braiding together, and so much context and history lost in the short span of memory he has access to.

Still, he doesn't communicate that difficulty, only works through it for a second before speaking. "The College was an institution and a collective," he says, lifting his focus back up from the table, his study of the other man frank and interested, "for mages who wished to exist free from the control of the Chantry. But more than that, it was an answer. Mages could attend it voluntarily, receive board and education as might occur in a good Circle. But they aren't being held unwillingly. They aren't cut off from their families.

"And then, when done with their training, they were free to go. To do what he or she may. Form families of their own, if they wanted. I believe, too, that the Circle of Magi also existed," Marcus adds, because it only seems fair. "To argue with, perhaps."

[satinet]

Cassius listens.

As a well-noted windbag, this is the part which ordinarily might take someone by surprise. Does he like the sound of his own voice? Yes, thoroughly. Does he like the ratta-tat-tat of his own interior stream of consciousness? Oh, frequently. But clever as he is, he can't very well be responsible for every little thought and fancy which comes to him. One must occasionally have input from an outside source. And it must be said that, for a great majority of the people in the world, there is nothing so thrilling or likeable as the pleasure of a listening ear.

The Perendale Circle (for it certainly wasn't Cassius' mother) raised no fool.

"And here I'd been led to suspect those dreams must have been universally unpleasant, given the general air of reticence. I'm pleased to know everyone on this island isn't so universally morose. Dreadful thing—fighting a war alongside people without any sense of humor."

From the brief wag of his brow as his hand moves to find his cup, Cassius implies to have ample experience in the subject.

"If only the waking world were so uncomplicated, yes?"