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

[inkindled]

[Distracted as he is, the question startles him.]

Oh-- [And then here it is, a flush to his ears and then down to his cheeks, like a sudden bloom of sunburn.] Er, no. I mean, yes. I didn't mean here, I meant--generally. It's not something I'm used to, like. I know, [he pulls his shirtsleeve over one hand, scrubs at his cheek with it, like it might wash away the heat in his face,] I know that sounds like an excuse. Sorry. I don't mean it that way. People do listen to me. But people think I'm some kid as well? [He shoots a sideways glance toward Enchanter Averesch, quick and furtive and not wanting to be caught at it. Prick.] Like I'm only small, still, but I'm not, I've done loads--

[Now his whole face feels hot, and a portion of his chest as well. Shut up, shut up, shut up, how embarrassing can you get, telling Marcus Rowantree how much you've done with your stupid little life. Matthias fights the urge to bite his own hand, to keep himself quiet.]

But maybe they're right, a bit. 'Cos I don't know how to do much of that, what you've said. I can listen, sometimes. I can't think of Loyalists without wanting to think about punching them as well. I can't understand how they got to be--that. I can, sort of, but then the bit where they let awful stuff happen and just thought it was all right, or even justified-- Like, magic is good, isn't it? But Loyalists, some of 'em, they agree with the Chantry. I can't get my head around that. I don't want to win, I just--can't get there. And then there's no way I can find anything in common with a Templar.

[luaithre]

[ There is simply no room in which Marcus can offer reassurance in time before Matthias begins to stammer, and so only stands quietly and watches as Matthias works his way to his meaning. A nod, maybe.

Then, a shift in focus. ]

Templars are a sword, [ quietly. ] Wielded by the Chantry. You don't speak to a man's weapon if you wish to have a conversation with him.

[ It isn't the substance of what Matthias is saying, but it seems prudent to note his particular stance on the limits of diplomacy. ]

You might speak to Julius or Kostos, if having your say with the Loyalists is important to you. Whether to understand them better, or for advice. But, [ he grants, with a tip of his head ] as much as I hope that a mutual conversation occurs, we don't know how much they've closed their ranks. So, if we fail to communicate, let it be their failure.

And those others that fought in the rebellion will also be there. Talking to them will be important, too.

[inkindled]

[This pivot is a mercy, in that it forces Matthias not to talk for a moment. He has to listen so he can't possibly talk. Instead he can do things like breathe and find his place again and think how much he agrees with that sentiment, you don't speak to a man's weapon, Maker's teeth, how succinct and wise and clever that is, and so he's nodding along right from there.]

Yeah. Well, yeah. [Slowly.] That's true, I s'ppose. It's good thinking we won't be alone when we go, and we won't be the only ones talking--and I do like thinking of them failing--

[Although.]

Enchanter Averesch--Kostos--he's with us, isn't he? I mean, he fought on our side. He was mates with Knight-Enchanter Voss, [pardon him for getting starry eyed even thinking about her] I know that. But-- you mean that Kostos knows Loyalists, like? I know about Julius. [--And That You and Him and he does not say that, by the grace of Andraste, probably.] Affiliation and all, I mean. Seems like you could talk to him, at least.

[luaithre]

Kostos fought on our side, aye. Julius didn't, but changed his mind. If a war broke out tomorrow, he'd be among it.

[ He looks towards the latter as he speaks, and any fondness there would have to be implied, buttoned down as he is when there isn't cause to be otherwise. ]

I only mean they understand it from that angle, in a way I don't think I can. That sounds like you can't either. And that if they can be as they are, maybe there are those in Cumberland who're the same.

By now, they've likely shed some dissenters, but still.

[inkindled]

[Matthias follows that gaze. He absolutely reads fondness into it--not too much fondness; Marcus is much more composed than Matthias would be, if this were him doing the gazing. Maker, if he could be even half as composed as Marcus is, and half as assured and cool and secure--]

I hadn't thought of that. People's minds do change. Not just 'cos someone talks at them, but--'cos they get to see things differently, maybe. Or 'cos people they care about show them it's different. Not-- [A flush comes to his ears again and he clarifies, hastily,] I don't mean that about anyone in particular. Like. Anyone here, and y-- er, y'know. I mean it general, like.

Anyway-- [Move on, move on, quickly--] Anyway, I don't think Enchanter Averesch likes me very much, so-- so maybe I'll try Julius, then.

[Awkwardly, he pauses. Debates what to say next. Nothing? Nothing would be best. But sincerity compels him to add,] Thanks.

[luaithre]

[ There's a sound that's designed to imply Enchanter Averesch doesn't like anyone very much. As Matthias speaks, Marcus retrieves his cigarette case from his pocket, potentially missing or simply sparing Matthias him visibly noticing any stammers that hedge into personal territory. Doesn't open it, but thoughtfully turns it in a hand, considering its temptation.

Then the 'thanks', which garners a look alongside. The ghost of a smile. Then, Marcus pats Matthias on the back in one solid thump of his palm in silent answer back. Nailed it.

He moves off, then, with the intent to free the younger man from this particular conversation, and to find a quiet corner for himself. ]