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

[luaithre]

[ Just a monosyllabic sound of agreement.

Embers flaring, smoke, ash. There's a pause that Silver could fill, or wish Marcus well in his door watching before turning inside, but Marcus gets there first. ]

Do you intend to count yourself among our number properly? Here, or in Cumberland.

[hornswoggle]

[ A pause in which John might have said Do we squander the Van Markhams on a diversion? or Have we considered intercepting the proposal on the road?

But instead, this question.

A discussion that was always looming in the future of their acquaintance, and John gives it due weight as he answers. ]

Do I belong among your number?

[ Nobody, from nowhere. No Circle, no phylactery. Nothing. A man appearing as if stepping forth from the ocean surf. (What came before?) ]

[luaithre]

[ A subtle pivot, a shift, a more forward direction of focus on Silver in particular apart from speaking into the air. The cigarette in his fingers has dwindled to a stub, so Marcus drops it and smears the embers out with the edge of his heel, which doubles as a partial step forwards. ]

I've asked that to myself, of you,

[ and then doesn't come too much closer. It's not intentional, any similarity to that first dream memory they'd shared, but the full force of Marcus' attention tends to have similar intensities. ]

'Apostate'. You could vanish from all of this if you chose, I know. And I know the advantages of being neither thing, mage and not. But then I have to ask what makes you so interested in these affairs, if you're not willing to be touched by them.

You could count yourself among us, if you wished it. Would you, one day?

[hornswoggle]

[ The half-step has no particular effect on John, were someone not paying attention to the shifting grip of his hand on the cloth-wrapped wood of his crutch. Instinct stirring, misplaced and disjointed when set against the waking world. He and Marcus never fought here, but the body remembers.

Or maybe it is simply bracing against the question. ]

I cannot guess at what necessity the future will bring. Or what that will require of me.

[ Not yes. Not no, exactly. ]

But I assume Petrana has spoken something of our business here to you. Our hopes of seeing what comes after this war taking a far better shape than what it was before.

[ A Circle pun thankfully discarded. ]

What is decided in that room is part of that.

[ We would be doing it just to see it done, Flint had said in the wake of Nascere's destruction, and John had agreed. And neither of them had questioned the course of action again. ]

[luaithre]

[ Petrana has. Flint has. Hearing it again from Silver feels—

Well, expected, and Marcus' nod somewhere in there is mostly patient. During, he folds his arms comfortably, but there is some tension still set across his shoulders, in the grip to his elbow. Likely began when Derrica started to speak, likely not to end until he's coaxed Petra and Julius both away and back to their quarters. ]

I believe that, [ he says, of said 'our business'. Worth saying out loud, directly. ] It's an opportune time, these years. If the continued freedom of mages can be secured through promises and leverage and dealmaking—

[ Not a laugh, exactly, that sound. No mirth in it. ] We lost so many in the rebellion. I don't know a man or woman who didn't. But we didn't have any choice, not in the way the Loyalists and their allies think we had a choice.

[ But back to the topic, which is, for now, John Silver. ]

Where would you be, if they forced our hand again? Say the future requires it.

[ The question is asked as simply as it can be summoned, without any angle evident in tone or manner. ]

[hornswoggle]

[ John Silver, who would rather not be discussed.

John Silver, who is no one. Who has spent so long in the same place that the constant unchanging company brings some conception and permutation of him into focus, sharpens indistinctions. ]

You mean if the rebellion resumes?

[ Clarifying. Finding the edges of the question he is operating within. ]

[luaithre]

[ He only nods, as if to preserve as much space for an answer as he can. ]

[hornswoggle]

Working in support of you.

[ Simple enough.

But he is thinking too, of Madi. Her people. What she would say of this. What Flint would say of this.

Support takes on many shapes. ]

There is no scenario in which we could stand alongside the Loyalists, [ is true, beyond question. ] And there is no future in which we turn our eyes away.

[ Nascere is broken to pieces, sunk into the sea. There is nowhere to withdraw to now. ]

[luaithre]

[ Marcus absorbs that in a characteristic silence, before nodding again. Accepting it. It's poor form to ask a question only to reject the answer in disbelief of it, no matter how much of a leap of faith it might be, a leap necessitated by the non-specificity that shrouds the answer.

But it'll do, for now, in this hallway. ]

Is it apparent to you, why I ask?

[hornswoggle]

It is.

[ The remedy is clear to John too.

It's a step that has been discussed before. John has toed up along the edge of it, but has not crossed over. ]

I imagine you aren't wholly satisfied, either.

[luaithre]

[ A twinge of amusement doesn't disperse solemnity. Only breaks it, briefly. ]

It isn't your job to satisfy me wholly, Silver, [ dry, but sobering again as he says, ] I only press you on this because this place you occupy protects you. And it isn't that I wish you to be in danger along with us, just—

[ A restless glance towards the open door, the patter of voices emanating from it. ]

So long as you bear in mind the lives of those who aren't so protected, then I can promise the same. Work, support. However this next thing goes.

[hornswoggle]

[ Isn't it? What else is a quartermaster but one charged with rendering satisfaction among the company?

But that's not the point, and chasing after it will only distract from the conversation at hand. ]

They are always on my mind, [ is truthful. Of course he thinks of them. How could he not? ] And should we pursue this in means other than discussion, I assume it won't matter what is known of me. The danger will be equally allotted.

[luaithre]

[ Marcus nods, silent, letting John's assurances filter through. Taking them to heart, which is a decision being consciously made. Less consciously, the subtle signals of the pressure and intent being lifted, redistributed of weight against a heel, a glance off towards the space immediately beyond the door.

He says, ] Then I won't have you thrown out, [ and it is so seriously delivered that the only indication that this is a Joke beyond context alone comes in the form of a flickered glance. ]

wrap this y/y?

[hornswoggle]

[ A Joke.

John's eyebrows raise, amusement lightening his expression.

(Is this friendship??????????????????????) ]

Something best avoided, given our record.

[ In which someone threw some rocks.

Is this something to joke about also? Near death within a dreamscape? ]

I should return.

[ Not that John has been contributing, but he has been listening intently. There will be conversations later, with Petra. With Flint. And more going forward, certainly. But he'll need to return to hear the rest of it, instead of what reaches them here in the hall. ]

places bow

[luaithre]

[ If a near death within a dreamscape can't at least be retroactively humourous, what can. Marcus tips his head at that—yes, quite—and nods as Silver excuses himself.

Considers, then says, ] I'll be in again shortly.

[ Like Silver said, it could well be hours before they see a conclusion, so he may as well be around for it. ]