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 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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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? ]