open | full circle pt 1

[exequy]

WHO: Concerned mages/rifters/others
WHAT: An emergency meeting!
WHEN: Solace 20
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Explanation in the OOC post. Please tag this like a network post. There are top-level comments to provide a little chronology/structure, but threadjack to your heart's content.

Before and during dinner on an otherwise unremarkable Wednesday, there's a chain of whispers (or notes, or perfectly audible comments from the particularly unsubtle) about an emergency meeting, at an evening hour, in a basement room, regarding a matter of concern to rifters and mages.

The basement part is probably unnecessary. It's certainly ineffective; the organization is too small, the Gallows too contained, and the halls too echoey for something arranged with this much finesse-wrecking haste to truly remain a secret. They could have done it in an empty office or the recreational dining hall, probably, and sat on chairs instead of storage crates. But Kostos picked the location, and he's dramatic. If nothing else it signals a clear intention to do this as unofficially as necessary.

Anyone who accepts the invitation (or just decides to come see what the fuss is about) will first encounter Marcus Rowntree, posted up outside the door like a bouncer, letting mages and rifters move through undisturbed but stepping in to question and likely bar the arrival of anyone else. Inside, Kostos is nothing but a dark scowl in the room's far corner, picking at a splinter of wood on a crate and not mustering a word of greeting for anyone who comes in. Derrica has parked herself within arm's reach of Kostos, a long gold-edged shawl spilling over one shoulder. Her diplomacy pin gleams from the front of her tunic. The worried pinch to her brow is the only outward sign of anxiety; otherwise, she is tightly contained, watching people enter. Julius–notably not in robes–is serious but calm as people come in, standing next to the ever-composed Madame de Cedoux.

Once as many people have arrived as seem likely to, Marcus closes the door, remaining beside it, and they explain what the problem is.

Comments

[exequy]

[ The corner of a crowded room, relying on only the din of others’ arguments and outrage for privacy, is not the time or the place for this. So of course Kostos says it anyway: ]

We can’t win a war.

[luaithre]

[ The directness of it is enough of a surprise that it saves Marcus from saying some immediate and stupid thing. The only tell in that regard is the pause, minor tensions firming up sharp along his expression. ]

You fought in it, [ still quiet, as if speaking of dangerous things in low tones is simply old habit. ] And now they're trying to reclaim what we took. Nothing's changed.

[exequy]

Nothing's changed, [ does not sound agreeable. ] We still can't win.

[ He thinks, today. There are days he might think otherwise. Consistency is not one of his top personality traits. Neither is intellectual rigor. Today is a pessimism day, and a hissing-whisper-that-is-not-as-quiet-as-one-would-hope day. ]

I am happy to make them work for it. But if it comes back to war, that is all we will do.

[luaithre]

We'll make them pay for it,

[ is unusually quick off the mark, for Marcus, trampling over the last syllable out of Kostos, the same level of furious near-whisper. ]

For daring to believe we'd just roll over and accept what we're given. Templar boots on our necks, being told we don't deserve the same chance as any other man. For being treated like criminals, or wayward children, or both in the same breath. No, I'm not the only one who would sooner die, Kostos, and would prefer to do it fighting.

You [ a point that only stops just shy of actually making contact ] can believe of this war what you want. But those cowards in Cumberland can't be allowed to believe the same.

[exequy]

[ The forearm Kostos raises to bat Marcus' hand away from his space does not stop shy. For a moment his jaw is clenched. He didn't trade in everything he'd ever believed in, do all of those guerrilla war crimes, and help Nell reduce the only place he'd ever been happy to rubble just to be treated like he isn't going to die for this. ]

At least try to act like you aren't gagging for it.

[luaithre]

[ There's a universe where Marcus takes that, impassively as a lake would receive a thrown stone, having taken much worse. Not an unlikely universe, either, given the minutes of his life he has only just spent lecturing Matthias that fellow mages aren't their enemy. He had meant it.

But first there's contact made, and then an impulse that feels like biting down, and Marcus' hands go out to shove Kostos backwards, hard enough to bounce him off the wall directly behind him. For his part, Marcus doesn't use the opening to back off, either. ]

[exequy]

[ Kostos hits the wall and does indeed bounce off of it, pushing back off with one arm and the other still held flat-forearmed in front of him to shove Marcus right back, toward the wooden storage crates that made the corner particularly shadowy and good for scowling in.

There's no universe, for the record, where he deescalates. ]

[luaithre]

[ Wooden crates scrape loud against the stone floor as Marcus half-stumbles back, devaluing further the privacy of a shadowy corner. He grunts, and locks into this snarl when Kostos in turn does not break from him. Grips onto that raised arm with his offhand, pushing for distance, but,

only so he can cock his other fist back and swing it for Kostos' face, vaguely, all fury, some previously dampened fire set alight. ]

[tender]

[ Oh.

No.

While it's not unexpected, Derrica had hoped to avoid out and out fights. And she hadn't put money on it being Marcus and Kostos, though maybe—

Well, a thought for later.

In the moment, Derrica simply abandons her present conversation to hurry across the room to try and wedge between them, push Marcus back or grab Kostos' wrists before he can swing back. Whatever is possible in the moment. ]

[exequy]

[ Through the pain of Marcus' fist connecting with his cheekbone and the general rage, it takes a few moments—moments of scrabbling, trying to shake loose of Derrica and reach beyond her to grab a fistful of Marcus' robes—before it sinks in that it is Derrica.

When it does, he stops. Movements still jerky, scowl still furious, but his step back and twitchy attempts to shrug her off are those of a man calming down. Angrily. There's a red patch on his cheek that will be blue and purple before long. ]

We're done.

[ Grated out. ]

[luaithre]

[ The hit connects, satisfying, and the will to do it again is interrupted by a smaller figure interceding, recognisable subliminally as Derrica. It has been a year and a half and he hasn't truly thought of it much since, but all at once the present rush of anger connects magnetically to the memory of her sprawled before him, the gravity of a bladed staff falling for centre mass—

Where anger flashed hot, now it runs cold, and Marcus backs up after an initial push forward. His other hand pries off of Kostos' arm, while the fist he'd formed stays locked.

No words out of him, seething in place, but working on stopping. ]

[tender]

[ Between them, Derrica breathes out hard. Relief.

She doesn't step out, even as the ceasefire settles between them. She takes it in. Kostos' bruise. The anger receding in increments on Marcus' face. One hand remains at Marcus' chest, even as she obliges Kostos' pull away from her grasp. ]

Marcus, would you go find Julius?

[ They don't need to be scolded. She couldn't presume to attempt it, these two who fought in a war she was absent from. The toll of every part of this discussion is clear to her. ]

[exequy]

[ Kostos is not always clever about people and their facial expressions, but he can see the effort Marcus is putting into clamping down on his rage. Which means there is really no excuse for his adding, ]

Yeah, go find Julius,

[ to what Derrica already has in hand. ]

[luaithre]

[ There's no pushback against Derrica's hand, but no relenting either, stare still intent over her head at Kostos even as he forces himself towards calm, by degrees. Her suggestion doesn't seem to register immediately, but it would have without Kostos' echo.

Which stands a non-zero chance of reigniting something, rush of anger stupid and heady and looking for anywhere to go, but Marcus doesn't move, freezing in place. Flicks a glance down at Derrica. Steps back, stiffly.

And leaves. Maybe even does as told, when he doesn't simply head for the door out. ]

[tender]

[ And Derrica can exhale, because for a split second she'd thought that needling comment would be enough to reignite Marcus' temper.

Her fingers curl, briefly, in the front of Kostos' tunic before she lifts her hand. Holds her place in front of him, just in case. ]

Let me see your face, [ is soft, even with some twinge of disappointment for that last taunt. ]

[exequy]

[ He angles his head to display the mark, red and slightly swollen, but he doesn't lower it. ]

Don't waste your energy.

[ However little it would take. He acquires worse bruises—or just-as-bad bruises, no shade on Marcus' punching abilities—once a week, at least, from dockworkers and sailors who take the bait. ]

[tender]

It's not a waste.

[ But she won't do anything Kostos doesn't ask her to. Her fingers touch, very light, at his jaw, examining. It was a good hit. ]

Did it help?

[exequy]

[ His eyebrows go up. ]

It would have helped more if you'd let me hit him back first.

[ —is not a joke, actually. But this is: ]

Think anyone else noticed?

[tender]

No, you two were very subtle.

[ ha, ha. ]

You don't have to stay, [ a return to Seriousness. ] You could gather your supplies and saddle the griffons, if you'd rather.

[ If you'd rather not be here anymore. ]

[exequy]

[ Appealing. But, ]

Are you trying to get rid of me?

Meanwhile

[overharrowed]

[He could hardly have failed to notice the fight, but Derrica had already acted before he decided whether he was the right person to intervene. Marcus does, at least, save him the bother of making the second decision — whether to go after him — by heading his way.

Julius extricates himself from the larger conversation so that by the time Marcus gets to him, he can speak quietly, even if they're not in a place for true privacy.]

Trouble?

[luaithre]

[ Marcus only commits to this trajectory when he makes eye contact with the other man, and one boot in front of the other, moves in his direction. Still tense, hackles half raised, expression stiff.

Which cracks, slightly, when he notices on a delay that he's drawn Julius away from something. Resentful, self-directed. ]

No. It's. [ A sentence begun, ended, settling on a single word answer; ] Disagreement.

[ He shakes out his hand, which twinges unpleasantly down the centre, into his wrist. ]

Sorry.

[overharrowed]

[There's the impulse to reach for him; the contrary impulses that it's too public a place (discarded) and that Marcus might not be in the head space for an affectionate touch (not discarded). He holds back for now.]

I've never been among this many mages without one. [A disagreement.] You don't need to apologize to me. Do you need anything?

[luaithre]

[ Maybe (maybe) Derrica was onto something in nudging him this way, as Julius says the right things, subtle and understated as they are. The last of that bridled tension, a knotted snarl of it clear in the set of shoulders and jaw, starts to ease, which,

mostly grants perspective. Time to feel foolish, grating against the conviction that Kostos asked for it. But he's unwound enough to use full sentences, so that isn't nothing. ]

For this part to be done with, [ wry. ] What's your measure of it?

[ Maybe there's an important conversation Julius ought to get back to, but Marcus rejects the urge to let him quite yet. ]

[overharrowed]

[If there is, Julius doesn't betray any impatience. Instead, he seriously considers the question.]

Those of us who were paying attention knew this or something like it would come. Maybe not exactly this, and not precisely now, but we were always going to have to press older promises to see if they held and oppose a contingent who wanted a return to the status quo with a new coat of paint. They've done it in a rush and left some holes for us to exploit as a result, which is something.

Though what's bothering me, truly, is why. Why now? I can see moving before Corypheus is dealt with to get the assurance of the opening play. But why this month instead of four months ago, or two months from now? Is it just that this is when they got organized, or is something else in play?