WHO: Laurentius, Sibylla-Therasie, Byerly WHAT: Problem couple arrive at the Gallows WHEN: Now WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall NOTES: n/a, will add as necessary
[It's mid-afternoon and there are, abruptly, two Tevinter mages in the Gallows courtyard.
How to say they're Tevene mages? Maybe it's the cut of their clothes, or their staffs, or the distinct patter of their voices as they're questioned by the two unnamed side characters playing at Gallows security. Or maybe it's simply the fact that the man with the heavy brow and pointy everything else is saying in brisk, no-nonsense tones:]
—I would hope you might expect Tevinter spies to be marginally more calculating. We have an appointment with the Ambassador. I've written him a letter.
[Which, for the record, has either not made it to Byerly's desk yet—having been written a mere two days ago from a dingy third floor walkup under the management of a rabid extortionist of a landlord—or is wallowing in a large stack of like documents. They can hardly be the other two refugees in Kirkwall asking for an audience with Riftwatch's leadership.]
[ The edge of their conversation is caught by a long-legged man wearing a dandy's clothes and a drolly ironic expression. It seems that the man is out walking his dog - for there is a hound trotting at his heels, a well-bred creature with doleful eyes.
No great surprise: this man has the air of someone who pokes his nose into other people's business and, indeed, soon as he's close enough, he pokes his nose into their business. ]
I don't believe, strictly speaking, that simply writing to someone guarantees you an appointment with them.
[ But his tone isn't particularly aggressive or hard or defensive; it's idle. And, indeed, after that light correction, the man raises an elegant hand and says to the erstwhile guards: ]
I'll take them up.
[ And the two guards purse their lips, disapproving, but after a moment step back and allow the two perhaps-spies forward. ]
[At this new interruption, the severe looking man in his (best, carefully packed in the middle of his trunk when they'd left Vyrantium with the intention of keeping it undamaged in transit so he might have something reliable to wear to this very meeting) black coat, straightens by a further half degree as if anticipating having to defend against some fresh flanking assault. But he adapts quickly enough, seizing on the opportunity to make progress.]
He'll find the time to see us. I'm certain.
[With only a fleeting backward glance toward the disapproving guards, he moves to follow. And, as if some connection point between them might hasten them along more securely, he absently offers his free hand to the woman with him.]
( it must be said that byerly makes quite the appearance, in his manner and in his dress, and there are many circumstances under which she might have taken both with some doubt. nearly every circumstance besides this, in fact, but here—
it is not the boldness of his clothes or the drollness of his tone that she marks, but that even disapproving his interjection is met with no resistance. )
Of course, ( she says, her tone the fine line between soothing and bolstering, interlacing her fingers with her husband's. to byerly, she says, nearly an aside, ) It is a matter of some importance— to us, I suppose.
( she isn't deferential, yet, but measured in her conversational ease in a way that nico is unlikely to miss in its familiarity: she doesn't know where the bridge leads, and she is not minded to burn it straight out of the gate. )
[ It is a pity: Byerly can no longer fully disguise himself as a scoundrel, a ne'er-do-well, a lout. That's how you get the best sense of a man, or a woman, or a well-dressed couple with Tevene accents so thick you could probably stir them up and use them in place of garum - present yourself as a lesser and see how they treat you. This politeness might be born of decency, or it might be born of deference. ]
I certainly hope so. The Ambassador, you know - he's known for rising late. And drinking early. I hope you can catch him in that narrow window of conscious sobriety.
[ But...All right, there's some room left to him for a bit of fun. ]
[The North. In that letter which may or may not surface from under some mountain of correspondence, he'd been mindful to imply as much without actually stating words like 'We hail from Tevinter.' It had seemed more prudent to let the implication rise up between every other detail, lest some line otherwise be read as too suspicious or too eager (to escape that aforementioned third floor walk up). But stated so plainly by some Southerner more over groomed than the dog trotting along in the company, and suddenly all the pretense and drama seems absurd.
Abruptly, the world is very small once more.
Which may be for the best. Otherwise there might be something viciously disappointing about their escort's description of who awaits them at the end of a very long road. Mentally, Nico places that information at a remove—something to be studied but not yet combed over or through.
(It's possible some flicker of dismay shows like a shadow in his jagged face though. His hand, rough and tender both from some horse's rein, is very secure where it's been laced with Lalla's.)]
We judged my pass at an Orlesian accent wouldn't stand up to much scrutiny.
( a smile tugs the corner of lalla's mouth, a little unwillingly, at the reminder of an accent that had cut through her best efforts to remain aggrieved and aloof from him — not yet riding long enough to be filled with regret, clutching the saddle and laughing as loudly and as freely as she has in quite some time, actually.
it softens what might otherwise have been a mirroring dismay on her face, too, but she's squared her shoulders and taken a breath, braced herself.
nothing has gone quite as she'd imagined, inasmuch as she'd been able to imagine. of course this, too, will be difficult. )
We would have showed our hand very quickly in ignorance if we had tried to be anything other than we are, ( she says, with some wryness, ) we didn't know what was a Riftwatch, before we came.
( on that point, there doesn't seem much use to dissembling. what the average tevene citizen knows about the war is —
well, it was a surprise to discover that the inquisition outpost they thought they had traveled to hasn't been so for some time. )
[ The question is wry, and accompanied by an elegantly arched eyebrow. ]
It seems impossibly plain to me. We watch Rifts. Rift-watching. Far more transparent than the Inquisition, which, in my experience, was deeply uninterested in asking questions - far more time spent making declarative statements. Hup, brace yourselves, we're about to climb quite a few steps, hope you've brought your wind along with you -
[ Having led them through the entranceway to the tower, he begins climbing the miserably lengthy staircase. Whiskey, the hound at his heels, heaves a mournful sigh of her own as she starts picking her way up them, her legs an awkward height for the uneven steps. ]
And yes, we've a few very clever Orlesians who'd have heard right through that attempt. Is your accent any better than his, madame?
[They've ridden cross country, climbed up and down Kirkwall, narrowly avoided a few scraps with locals with whom any Vint is an unwelcome Vint, and have now talked themselves into a ferry and across the harbor. What are a few stairs?
Give it three or four flights. He maybe ask for a moment then so he can catch his breath before climbing the rest of the way to the Ambassador's office.]
It's vastly superior.
[Under other circumstances—if this were some bit of a joke being told at home where there were little reason to guard Lalla's pride—he might instead pass her a sidelong look as if to ask, 'Well, is it?' But not here. Not like this. Not when she's come all this way.]
Though unlikely to fool a very clever Orlesian. Were you a member of the Inquisition originally? Before Riftwatch [what, exactly?] left it.
( every time that she thinks she has come as far as anyone might reasonably ask of her, as far as he has not asked her and been grateful for, there is something more—
it is her pride that won't allow her to complain about the stairs, at least not until she has decided later to be vexed with nico about something else and needs something else to sling in her bow.
but, honestly, have they no comforts in this city at all. )
Riftwatch is not mentioned in Vyrantium, ( she explains, apparently letting nico's bald-faced lie about her ability to replicate the orlesian accent stand because it's sweet of him to do and she'll remember that, ) we understood you to be all Inquisition, I am very curious about the...
Divorce?
( well, they got custody of the breach and visitation with the war. )
It happened around the time of the election of the Divine. [ He takes a breath in (though the more stairs they climb, the more his voice goes from breezy to wheezy). ] And deeply connected to the election of the Divine. She, in her wisdom, called the Exalted March, and the Inquisition, with its loyalties, was obligated to answer.
[ A crooked little smile over at the two targets of that Exalted March. Or, well...The two who might have been collateral damage. They don't exactly seem to be radiating the energy of ruthless, wicked Venatori. But the Exalted rarely take time to make certain that it's absolutely, positively the enemy that they're stabbing. ]
There was a bit less faith in that endeavor here. And little appetite towards obedience in the first place. So - An amicable split, but a split nevertheless.
[ And one they might be relieved to hear about, if they're clever enough to understand the implications of this for themselves. ]
[Contrary to that thought, the dark cast of the Tevene man's already heavy brow darkens further and for a split second he seems prone to frowning outright. His long stride—which hasn't shortened in deference to the stairwell despite the narrowing of his breathing—slows by a fraction in reply.]
I wasn't aware the Sunburst Throne considered Exalted Marches attendance optional for any of its friends.
( lalla does not frown — she has more than enough practise at schooling her own expression, and a husband who will do it for her if she requires the outlet — but the phrasing gives her pause.
if they have come all this way, only to be in the wrong place, with the wrong people— )
[They've covered only a few steps since this turn in conversation, yet each pace further up the stairwell seems to have the effect of increasing the gravity on his expression. If they continue at this rate, he'll be scowling by the time they reach— wherever they're being led.
Odd, isn't it? To find this shred of offered security—yes, how lucky that they've fallen in with the southern arm of the war effort evidently the least likely to smother them on sight—rankling. Yet he feels it like an itch high between the shoulder blades or some sour taste on the tongue. His wide mouth briefly narrows. The point of Nico's attention rises toward the next landing to which they're hiking.]
Do you retain any connection to it? Riftwatch to the Inquisition.
[Given any other metaphor or even any other circumstances save for these ones where, somewhere in Tevinter, three children have been spirited off to their mother's relations, Nico might briskly find his way to a more measured response. The shadow of his brow might ease. He might even laugh, a breath of humor and a curled lip to flash his considerable collection of teeth.
At the very least he might soften the facts which are instead put so plainly that there's little opportunity for Lalla to intervene:]
There's no question that we have. It's a matter of the magnitude—
[He stops abruptly, drawing up at this point on the stairs between landings. The way he looks at Byerly is very direct.]
Who else oversees this place? If your Ambassador is unlikely to hear us, there must be someone who will.
[ There are things that someone with a keen eye for people would notice. The way that he knows these stairs, the way his hound knows these stairs, easily finding every uneven step without a stumble. The way that his breath hardly catches in his chest despite the exertion. (He walks this way often.) The deference from that guard; his confidence in speaking to the man. The quill-pen's callus on his writing hand, the spots of ink under his finely-kept nails - A scholar's hand on a dissolute arm. What is more Diplomatic than that?
The man - The man does not have a keen eye for people. These questions, this frustration makes that clear as day. And so By smiles a crooked smile, and turns his gaze towards the woman as he says - ]
Well, there's Flint - head of Forces. I would not recommend him for you. Take my word there. Stark, research, will likely be out causing things to explode, horrible...And the Scoutmaster is too subtle by far. I fear the Ambassador is your best bet.
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for byerly;
How to say they're Tevene mages? Maybe it's the cut of their clothes, or their staffs, or the distinct patter of their voices as they're questioned by the two unnamed side characters playing at Gallows security. Or maybe it's simply the fact that the man with the heavy brow and pointy everything else is saying in brisk, no-nonsense tones:]
—I would hope you might expect Tevinter spies to be marginally more calculating. We have an appointment with the Ambassador. I've written him a letter.
[Which, for the record, has either not made it to Byerly's desk yet—having been written a mere two days ago from a dingy third floor walkup under the management of a rabid extortionist of a landlord—or is wallowing in a large stack of like documents. They can hardly be the other two refugees in Kirkwall asking for an audience with Riftwatch's leadership.]
no subject
( with aggrieved affront, in the tone of someone who would certainly like to think that she would be better at being a spy than this,
although, it is quite possible that she wouldn't. what madam vesperus knows about what a spy does might half-fill a thimble. )
We have come here open-handed and honestly.
no subject
No great surprise: this man has the air of someone who pokes his nose into other people's business and, indeed, soon as he's close enough, he pokes his nose into their business. ]
I don't believe, strictly speaking, that simply writing to someone guarantees you an appointment with them.
[ But his tone isn't particularly aggressive or hard or defensive; it's idle. And, indeed, after that light correction, the man raises an elegant hand and says to the erstwhile guards: ]
I'll take them up.
[ And the two guards purse their lips, disapproving, but after a moment step back and allow the two perhaps-spies forward. ]
no subject
He'll find the time to see us. I'm certain.
[With only a fleeting backward glance toward the disapproving guards, he moves to follow. And, as if some connection point between them might hasten them along more securely, he absently offers his free hand to the woman with him.]
no subject
it is not the boldness of his clothes or the drollness of his tone that she marks, but that even disapproving his interjection is met with no resistance. )
Of course, ( she says, her tone the fine line between soothing and bolstering, interlacing her fingers with her husband's. to byerly, she says, nearly an aside, ) It is a matter of some importance— to us, I suppose.
( she isn't deferential, yet, but measured in her conversational ease in a way that nico is unlikely to miss in its familiarity: she doesn't know where the bridge leads, and she is not minded to burn it straight out of the gate. )
no subject
I certainly hope so. The Ambassador, you know - he's known for rising late. And drinking early. I hope you can catch him in that narrow window of conscious sobriety.
[ But...All right, there's some room left to him for a bit of fun. ]
You've come from the North, then?
no subject
Abruptly, the world is very small once more.
Which may be for the best. Otherwise there might be something viciously disappointing about their escort's description of who awaits them at the end of a very long road. Mentally, Nico places that information at a remove—something to be studied but not yet combed over or through.
(It's possible some flicker of dismay shows like a shadow in his jagged face though. His hand, rough and tender both from some horse's rein, is very secure where it's been laced with Lalla's.)]
We judged my pass at an Orlesian accent wouldn't stand up to much scrutiny.
[The North indeed.]
no subject
it softens what might otherwise have been a mirroring dismay on her face, too, but she's squared her shoulders and taken a breath, braced herself.
nothing has gone quite as she'd imagined, inasmuch as she'd been able to imagine. of course this, too, will be difficult. )
We would have showed our hand very quickly in ignorance if we had tried to be anything other than we are, ( she says, with some wryness, ) we didn't know what was a Riftwatch, before we came.
( on that point, there doesn't seem much use to dissembling. what the average tevene citizen knows about the war is —
well, it was a surprise to discover that the inquisition outpost they thought they had traveled to hasn't been so for some time. )
no subject
[ The question is wry, and accompanied by an elegantly arched eyebrow. ]
It seems impossibly plain to me. We watch Rifts. Rift-watching. Far more transparent than the Inquisition, which, in my experience, was deeply uninterested in asking questions - far more time spent making declarative statements. Hup, brace yourselves, we're about to climb quite a few steps, hope you've brought your wind along with you -
[ Having led them through the entranceway to the tower, he begins climbing the miserably lengthy staircase. Whiskey, the hound at his heels, heaves a mournful sigh of her own as she starts picking her way up them, her legs an awkward height for the uneven steps. ]
And yes, we've a few very clever Orlesians who'd have heard right through that attempt. Is your accent any better than his, madame?
no subject
Give it three or four flights. He maybe ask for a moment then so he can catch his breath before climbing the rest of the way to the Ambassador's office.]
It's vastly superior.
[Under other circumstances—if this were some bit of a joke being told at home where there were little reason to guard Lalla's pride—he might instead pass her a sidelong look as if to ask, 'Well, is it?' But not here. Not like this. Not when she's come all this way.]
Though unlikely to fool a very clever Orlesian. Were you a member of the Inquisition originally? Before Riftwatch [what, exactly?] left it.
no subject
it is her pride that won't allow her to complain about the stairs, at least not until she has decided later to be vexed with nico about something else and needs something else to sling in her bow.
but, honestly, have they no comforts in this city at all. )
Riftwatch is not mentioned in Vyrantium, ( she explains, apparently letting nico's bald-faced lie about her ability to replicate the orlesian accent stand because it's sweet of him to do and she'll remember that, ) we understood you to be all Inquisition, I am very curious about the...
Divorce?
( well, they got custody of the breach and visitation with the war. )
no subject
It happened around the time of the election of the Divine. [ He takes a breath in (though the more stairs they climb, the more his voice goes from breezy to wheezy). ] And deeply connected to the election of the Divine. She, in her wisdom, called the Exalted March, and the Inquisition, with its loyalties, was obligated to answer.
[ A crooked little smile over at the two targets of that Exalted March. Or, well...The two who might have been collateral damage. They don't exactly seem to be radiating the energy of ruthless, wicked Venatori. But the Exalted rarely take time to make certain that it's absolutely, positively the enemy that they're stabbing. ]
There was a bit less faith in that endeavor here. And little appetite towards obedience in the first place. So - An amicable split, but a split nevertheless.
[ And one they might be relieved to hear about, if they're clever enough to understand the implications of this for themselves. ]
no subject
I wasn't aware the Sunburst Throne considered Exalted Marches attendance optional for any of its friends.
no subject
Sharks tend to care little about where the guppies swim.
no subject
if they have come all this way, only to be in the wrong place, with the wrong people— )
Amicable, ( she repeats, mild, ) I see.
no subject
Odd, isn't it? To find this shred of offered security—yes, how lucky that they've fallen in with the southern arm of the war effort evidently the least likely to smother them on sight—rankling. Yet he feels it like an itch high between the shoulder blades or some sour taste on the tongue. His wide mouth briefly narrows. The point of Nico's attention rises toward the next landing to which they're hiking.]
Do you retain any connection to it? Riftwatch to the Inquisition.
no subject
[ Maybe that's too many metaphors, all in a row. He tilts an apologetic half-smile towards the two of them, and shrugs open-handed, and says: ]
We do them favors. They help us out.
You're nervous that you've made a mistake.
no subject
At the very least he might soften the facts which are instead put so plainly that there's little opportunity for Lalla to intervene:]
There's no question that we have. It's a matter of the magnitude—
[He stops abruptly, drawing up at this point on the stairs between landings. The way he looks at Byerly is very direct.]
Who else oversees this place? If your Ambassador is unlikely to hear us, there must be someone who will.
no subject
The man - The man does not have a keen eye for people. These questions, this frustration makes that clear as day. And so By smiles a crooked smile, and turns his gaze towards the woman as he says - ]
Well, there's Flint - head of Forces. I would not recommend him for you. Take my word there. Stark, research, will likely be out causing things to explode, horrible...And the Scoutmaster is too subtle by far. I fear the Ambassador is your best bet.
[ Well? Madame? How is your eye? ]