faderift | open | full circle pt 1

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well,

[ playing at flattered ]

I'll do what I can. From what I can gather [ and he has been listening, not simply to admire Derrica at a distance (or close range), but to try to get some sense of the room as a whole ], it seems we'll likely be taking a chaotically diverse approach to our diplomatic strategy.

[ —which is, in turn, a diplomatic way to put it. ]

[ Does Riftwatch take any other approach? ]

That might serve us. We need to take up enough time for Kostos and Ellie to bring Fiona, so making seventeen different arguments all at once will be helpful.

[ Or at least, confusing for those assembled. The issue of Rifters alone may take up a day or two of debate. ]

Assuming no one tries to punch any of the other Enchanters.

[ Potentially Kostos, but there are others to worry about. They are not all diplomats by nature in this room. ]

We can certainly make things messy, [ encouragingly. It's not a half bad plan, as far as plans go, and what else would anyone expect of Riftwatch anyway?

His arm relaxes around her, hand conforming to the curve of her waist, resting there. Tempting, to pick up the banter thread, but he chooses to let it lie for the moment. ]

How worried are you? Like actually, this proposal seeing light, being acted on. Scale of one to ten.

[ It is her first instinct to soften her answer, to spare him the full weight of what's been circling her thoughts since Kostos first came to her. She is silent for a long beat, weighing it up against the warmth of his arm around her. ]

Eight, I think.

[ It's complicated. Derrica doesn't leave it there. ]

If we can't persuade them not to send it, I'm afraid they'll be giving the Divine the opportunity she and the Chantry have been waiting for. Mages calling for Circles to be reinstated would be...

[ A small shrug underneath Loxley's bicep. He knows. It would be a true boon. And should it be used to put those ideas into motion, it would lead to something ugly, at a time when they can't afford the fight. ]

[ Eight. That's a high number. ]

It just sounds so mad to me, the whole thing.

[ Not a new statement from him, but it's worth saying. The absolute affront of the Circles existing. Unreal to the point that this meeting hardly seems real, because the idea of his being relegated to a Circle is laughable, but here they all are, mages with strong opinions, and rifters taking it all very seriously.

And he remembers, too, their hush conversation in the tailor's supply closet in Antiva. The oddness of his magic, the magic it resembles. ]

I don't suppose we can just put all them in a Circle of their own, leave the rest of us be.

[ A tired smile. Yes, it is mad.

Worse, because the Circles were hard-won. Imagine, the argument for something that soured so immediately, and turned rancid, blighting generations of mages. Her fingers squeeze tighter at his hip for a moment as she sighs. ]

Maybe we should suggest that as a possibility, just so they'll argue over it.

[ Ha, ha. (Unless...) ]

I don't think the Chantry wants any of us to have a choice in this. They never have. [ And the proposal acquiesces to that. Derrica hates it. ] And now you're caught up in that too.

That's alright, [ swiftly, on that last thing. ] I'm in fine company.

[ Low-key flirtation is, indeed, low-key, quietly spoken but certainly not without meaning. ]

You'll be wonderful in Cumberland.

[ Derrica's free hand comes up, pressing over her face. ]

I have to be.

[ But it is terrifying. What she's chosen to do is terrifying, worse because so much hinges on it. What if no one believes her? Or worse, what if they take all the wrong things from it? ]

Have you ever spoken in front of a room full of people before?

No, [ he admits, a little apologetic. ] Just to people I'd rather not have to, but you've plenty experience in that.

[ He thinks for a moment, and then says, ]

But if you'd like, you can practice with me. If you're going to prepare something. I promise I won't just shower you in compliments, although you'll forgive me if I do that a little bit.

[ It hadn't occurred to her that this might be something to practice, but lining up her thoughts before she has to stand up and share them suddenly seems—

Essential.

She's quiet for a few moments, temple pressed against Loxley's shoulder. Listening to the conversation flow around them. ]

That would be nice, [ she says, piecing the words together slowly. ] I'm worried it's a lot to ask of you.

[ Hearing the details of Dairsmuid pieced together over and over in different configurations. ]

[ As she settles, Loxley brings his arm up to bracket in around her shoulders, a squeeze of his hand on her arm. ]

It isn't. Or—

[ Maybe it is, actually. Big diplomatic speeches, high stakes. He amends. ]

I don't mind. It'd be an honour, actually.

[ An honor. Derrica's fingers tighten at his hip again, turning her face in briefly against his bicep. ]

Thank you.

[ Softly.

What else can she say? He must have an idea of it, what kinds of things she's going to have to arrange in this speech. It's a kindness, listening to her unspool them and rearrange them to find a palatable way to describe a bloody history. ]

[ Part of his reluctance to attend this little get together had been his usefulness in the discussion. He knows what he wants for himself, which is to be left alone, and what he wants for those he cares about, which is for them to be left alone, but what good is that in the chorus of voices and their grander plans?

But he feels her press her face into his arm and he dips to nudge a kiss into her hair, and doesn't worry about that for a moment. ]

open | full circle pt 1

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ties off bow