notathreat: (45)
Ellie ([personal profile] notathreat) wrote in [community profile] faderift2023-06-13 04:37 pm
Entry tags:

Spies vs. House Party (Closed)

WHO: Yseult, Ellie
WHAT: Yseult takes Ellie on what should be a fairly low-risk mission to infiltrate a house party. There are minor complications.
WHEN: Mid-Justinian
WHERE: Hossberg
NOTES: May contain sexuality talk and vague references to sexual violence. Spiritual successor to the Minrathous Debrief.
hassaran: (_055 noodles  (83))

whoops sorry

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-03 08:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"Exactly," Yseult confirms. She's quick with this stage but thorough, brush dabbed precisely around Ellie's hairline, smoothed toward an ear, under the line of her jaw. "Orlesian commoners will layer this on like a mask, but Anders prefer a more natural look. Thankfully."

"You can open your eyes," she says as she trades brushes, dipping the new one into a pot of rouge and tapping most of it back off. "We want you a bit wan and not quite as pretty," she explains, "So very little of this. Just a swipe here and here, and then we'll blend and balance." This takes another brush, another shade, two, careful swipes and swirls. The end product is subtle, but seems to deemphasize the angles of Ellie's cheekbones and jaw.

"Compare that to--" Yseult turns her head, gestures at her own face, which has taken a heavier application, freckles blurred away beneath the cosmetics, hollows and angles hidden and then painted back on. It's not an Orlesian's full-face spackle, but it's more than actually necessary. "What does this suggest to you about us?"
hassaran: (noodles -  (73))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-04 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Yseult's mouth--a dark but vibrant shade of red--curves slightly as Ellie answers, approval tinged with perhaps just a hint of pride in her own handiwork. That little drawl adds an arched brow, the expression exaggerated by the increased difference in shade between hair and skin.

"That's precisely right," she says, "A respectable but mildly adventurous widow of a certain age and comfortable but not extravagant wealth is welcome in most conversations but too common to be memorable. Her mousy companion can pass unnoticed." She picks up a brush as she's talking, reaching past Ellie for one of the pots, and adds a shadow beneath her jaw, then nearly hides it. It ages her a few years further, adding just a hint of carefully hidden jowl.

"Who's voice was that?"
hassaran: (_037 peaked  (27))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-04 06:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Yseult twists to eye the hinge of her jaw in profile, fingertips smudging some almost imperceptible edge of that shadow until she's satisfied with how it fades. When she is, she finds Ellie's eyes in the mirror, settling her focus on this answer. She's a good listener, attentive without the keen focus that adds pressure, and if everything she learns gets added to some mental personnel file, it doesn't show. Her smile mirrors the tenor of Ellie's--warm and empathetic, some faintly wistful curl to the corners of mouth and eyes almost concealed beneath the cosmetics.

"It sounds like he cared for you very much. I'm sure he'd be pleased with all the friends you've made here," isn't a question but has an upward lilt to it that doesn't quite presume to know for sure. "It's an interesting accent. Normal teenage shit," she tries, and it's close, but not quite. A frown, an adjustment, mouth pulled crooked, talking out the side of it. "Normal teenage shit," is spot-on but bizarrely out of place from her mouth, and she shakes her head.

"For another time. Ready?"
Edited 2023-07-04 19:19 (UTC)
hassaran: (noodles -  (62))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-04 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
The truth is both more and less complex than Ellie imagines. Maybe someday teasing it out will prove necessary, but for now Yseult just muddies the waters by flashing her a wide, slender smile in answer to that delighted reaction, and then points a finger at her in the mirror as Ellie's expression dulls. "Good."

There are shawls and bags to gather up, a last check of the hairpiece that has shortcut the need for lengthy styling (she'd once spent two hours a day on it while posing as a lady's maid, Yseult told her earlier as she curled the pieces nearest Ellie's face with a hot iron) and a hired carriage to call round. The trip to the mansion is a short one, and they blend into the stream of arrivals without issue. There are introductions, and for Yseult there is small talk, wine, a dance or two, while Ellie is left to haunt the sidelines, watching the flow of people through the room, guests and servants both, observing the comings and goings from the hall to the east wing that is their next destination.

The unexpectedly busy hall to the east wing: as she watches, a servant posted before the doorway checks more than one guest's invitation before permitting him to pass deeper into the house, before refusing entry to a pair of well-dressed young men despite their blatant offer of a bribe.

A number ends and Yseult's partner returns her to the sidelines with a bow. She links her arm through Ellie's, snaps open her fan, and makes like they might head for the refreshments. "What do you see?"
hassaran: (_043 noodles  (72))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-04 09:24 pm (UTC)(link)
The fan is a useful tool for concealment but also it's uncomfortably warm and stuffy in the ballroom, and Yseult gives it a more than token flutter as they wend their way through the refreshment line. She scans the cake options with feigned interest as she listens, a hum of acknowledgment for the information Ellie has gathered. A cup of lemonade is collected as she considers their options, the sweating glass pressed to her throat.

"Could your ability let us pass the gatekeeper unseen? We know at least some guests are permitted in that hall," she explains aside, "But we've no way to know how conspicuous we may be taking the garden entrance."
hassaran: (_061 noodles  (89))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-04 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Yseult's path takes them back into sight of that hall and its guardian, pausing near a hothouse palm tall enough for fronds to arch over their heads.

"Thirty seconds to get past the checkpoint and around the corner," she estimates, while sipping lemonade and idly scanning their fellow guests. "If our information is correct the office is second from the far end. If the hall is clear we proceed like we belong. If not-- how long can you hold your breath?"
hassaran: (noodles (106))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-04 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"More than that would've needed a warm-up," Yseult agrees.

A middle-aged gentleman with bushy sideburns and jarringly chartreuse cuffs angles their way, looking at Yseult with a beadily hopeful gaze. She lifts her fan and turns to Ellie behind it. "Laugh like I've made a mean joke." She casts a disdainfully fleeting glance over the would-be suitor as he catches the seeming insult and decides against interrupting after all.

"Will I be able to see you?"
hassaran: (_054 noodles  (82))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-05 12:03 am (UTC)(link)
They should have practiced this before they left, but there wasn't much time and if she's honest, Yseult had hoped it wouldn't be necessary. Stupid, to neglect such an obviously useful tool, not to at least eliminate these unknowns. But here they are.

"Alright. The next palm, by the pillar there. Just between them we should be out of sight for a moment. We'll go invisible there, and then straight down the hall."

She finishes her lemonade and abandons the glass on the lip of the palm's pot, one slow deep breath in and out before she snaps her fan shut and is on the move.
hassaran: (_001 bangparty  (5))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-05 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
It's good that Yseult isn't trying to hold her breath, because her heart rate jumps at that shift, and the unexpected sensation that raises the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. It's all objectively perfectly fine, odd at the worst, but the prickle of magic and the way the world dims and focus narrows to tunnel vision together grate at her like the grinding squeal of bone on bone. She breathes through the adrenaline, forces herself to look carefully around to see if anyone has noticed, and, finding none, gives Ellie a nod and a single squeeze of her hand.

The crowd is thinner here away from the ballroom, and it's easy to dodge the few that pass or linger. Yseult leads the way past the servant manning the hall mouth, her skirts caught up in her free hand to avoid any suspicious rustle or breeze as they pass. The carpet makes silence easy, and lets them move briskly down the corridor toward the turn.

The hall isn't empty. Ahead of them, a couple stride arm in arm down the center of the hall, pace leisurely, seemingly unsure which door they're looking for. Yseult gets as close as safe and then moderates their pace to match, glancing to Ellie to check how she's doing. It's only been about a minute, but the sudden slowdown makes it feel longer.
hassaran: (_039 bangparty  (49))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-05 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
Yseult glances over as the power flickers and Ellie breathes, and then stops suddenly, hand tightening, as the couple ahead of them make a sharp stop and pivot, turning back to the door they just passed. Yseult and Ellie have to backpedal out of their way, but the turn to a door lets them then continue on around and past, Yseult walking backward another moment until the couple finish lingering, giggling before the treshhold, and the door is firmly shut.

Then: quickly down to the end of the hall, an ear held next to the office door for a moment before she produces a set of picks from her hair and, once Ellie has shifted her grip back to her arm, makes quick work of the lock.

Once the door is locked again behind them she gives herself a discreet shake as the magic fades and looks around, the space an unremarkable example of a lord's study, complete with heavy desk, shelves of leather-bound books, an animal head (here a Hunterhorn ram with its great curling horns) mounted between the sconces.

"It will most likely be some sort of ledger separate from his real accounts," she says, moving around the desk to test the drawers, "But it could be disguised."
hassaran: (_040 bangparty  (50))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-05 03:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Yseult pauses in her search of the desk to look at the cupboard Ellie's indicated. "Careful not to scratch the keyhole," she warns, then returns to rifling neatly through the papers atop Lord Arvend's desk, setting each stack back down as she found it. There are locked drawers here, too, and she is crouching to begin picking one open when there are footsteps in the hall.

She straightens, seeking Ellie's attention with a wave of an arm, silently listening as the steps approach the door. As they near and slow she tucks picks back into her hair and moves out from behind the desk, careful again to keep skirts corralled. The handle is tried, and then there is the scratch of a key against the lock, and Yseult quickly arranges herself on the arm of one of the chairs before the desk, gesturing with a soft snap of fingers for Ellie to come stand beside her. She leans in, "We were brought here to meet with his lordship and then forgotten," a hurried whisper.

When the door opens her fan is fluttering, the expression half-hidden behind it one of mingled relief and annoyance.

"Finally," she says, "I was beginning to think no one would ever come!"
hassaran: (noodles -  (69))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-10 02:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh my." The gentleman that enters looks about 50, of medium height and build, dressed finely but soberly, with a thick but neatly trimmed mustache that is probably the only thing anyone ever remembers about his face. Most importantly, he is not Lord Arvend.

"I'd the heard rumors, of course," he says, pushing the door shut behind him with slightly too much enthusiasm and hands flapped in apology for the noise. He turns the lock and pivots back to them, excitement widening his eyes though it's still not enough to really pull focus from the mustache. "And when I discovered I had been assigned Arvend's precious study!" He brandishes the key, a little paper tag hanging from the handle. "I knew it must be something special. It is not every day my friend allows guests into his sanctum."

Beside Ellie, Yseult continues to move her fan in rhythm while above its edge mobile brows mirror the rise and fall of the man's tone.

He chuckles, a low, round sound that edges upwards with a hint of nerves. "But still, ladies, I am overwhelmed with my good fortune." He advances across the carpet, hands out as if he intends to clasp theirs. There is something about the way he forms the word ladies, the look in his eye as he says it, that gives the impression of a dog licking its chops. "I am--"

"No names, my dear sir," says Yseult, snapping the fan closed to smile at him. "It is a private matter, you understand." The strident note she'd initially projected is gone, replaced by something richer, somehow reminiscent of laughter, or a promise. (It might also remind one a bit of Fitcher.) "But I am sure we are very pleased to make your acquaintance. Are you expecting anyone else?"

"Anyone-- oh no, no," The man looks back over his shoulder at the door and shakes his head, clearly flustered by the idea, though it does nothing to diminish the hungry glint in his eye. "I think the three of us shall be a very jolly party, don't you?"
Edited 2023-07-10 14:44 (UTC)
hassaran: (noodles -  (70))

[personal profile] hassaran 2023-07-11 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
The coy turn of Yseult's head away from the gentleman's flirtation lets her glance at Ellie from behind her fan, quickly marking the shift in posture, the increase in tension. She thumbs one of her rings, an intricate web of silver, and then reaches out to bar her path.

"No need," she says, and the arm that's blocked her path is pointing to a sideboard across the room, "Why don't you fetch us all some brandy, instead?" She lifts a brow and cocks her head just so, the order clear.

"I'm afraid she's still a bit shy," she tells lord whoever, watching him watch Ellie cross the room. "I do my best, but she's a prim little thing. You understand." She snaps her fan closed more loudly than necessary, the crack drawing the man's attention back to her. She eases to her feet and taps him on the chest with it, then reaches to twin her arm with his and walk him toward the opposite door (that definitely has been here the whole time). "Why don't you and I retire to the adjoining chamber, and perhaps jealousy will overcome her?"

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............hi

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I sensed it somehow

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