Ellie (
notathreat) wrote in
faderift2023-06-13 04:37 pm
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.
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.

whoops sorry
"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?"
no subject
Not quite as pretty, Yseult says, and Ellie's never particularly thought of herself as pretty, so it's surreal to see the features of her face that she hasn't realized were appealing get muted, blurred. There's no disguising her eyes, but she has defined features. A pronounced but delicate jawline, high cheekbones. A graceful arch to her nose that Yseult blurs out, makes her features less distinct, forgettable. her upper lip gets less pronounced, cupid's bow softening.
She's shocked by the skill of it. Just a little work with shadows and she looks like she could fade into a background. Even the color of her cheeks is muted.
"... I look..." she trails off, watching the difference in the mirror. If she were to see the two of them together, she'd have made some instant assumptions and probably not even realized it.
"Older," she says, surprised. "Not by much, but like- past the age people usually get married here." Her voice settles, slipping into work mode. "Might not even WANT to, since it doesn't look like I'm interested in drawing attention to myself, and might get uncomfortable if I did. It looks like I'm not wearing any makeup," she adds, "and probably don't go outside much." The lack of color, the blurring of her freckles.
Ellie tilts her head, and catches that in the mirror her eyes look calculating, alive, and it somewhat ruins the effect of the dulling makeup, makes it all the more obvious that her eyes don't match her face. She'll have to be careful of that, if she wants to successfully play the part.
"You look like someone who enjoys being social," she says. "Mature and respectable but like... in a used to taking charge way." She's hesitant, but here she starts throwing out assumptions. "You're used to people looking at you, you're comfortable with it, and you probably want attention. Maybe a widow, or married but um, adventurous."
Another glance in the mirror.
"If I saw us together, I would assume we were family of some kind, since our social circles probably aren't the same ones. And that you were encouraging me to get out of my comfort zone and meet people instead of buryin' my nose in a book."
The last part slips out, and sounds very real. In fact, a little Texas twang colors the edges of the last few words. Joel had said that more than a few times.
no subject
"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?"
no subject
"Man, you made it work, though." Ellie sounds impressed, but eager, too. Now that she can see the trick of it, she wants to apply it. To tweak it, to adapt. She was raised to survive, and this is a broad new set of skills to help with that and pull beyond it.
A small smile twitches at the edge of her mouth at the question, warmth mixed with sadness and loss. She's not trying to hide a thing right now.
"... Joel," she says softly. "I didn't have parents, but I did have him. He was an old smuggler who took me in. He taught me how to fight, how to survive." Just those few sentences explain a lot about her.
"I was kind of a loner as a kid, used to it being just the two of us." Trust issues, Riley had said. "When we finally ended up living in safe place, with people my age, he'd get on my ass like that. Get on out there with some kids your own age. Make friends. Normal teenage shit, Ellie." The twang has it coming out like shee-yit and Elleh.
no subject
"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?"
no subject
It could all be a ploy. But who cares if it is?
(Ellie tries to tell herself that it doesn't matter. And so far it hasn't.)
"Yeah, I think he would," Ellie says quietly, heartfelt, then snickers under her breath at Yseult's scary-good attempt at a Texas drawl. "Normal teenage shit," she says one more time, leaning on the drawl, and then laughs out loud when Yseult nails it.
"That's terrifying," she says honestly, but she sounds impressed and delighted, actually.
"Ready." With a nod, Ellie takes a breath, lets her expression go more slack, mouth downturned, eyes a bit wider and less focused.
Yep. Ready to play the mousy companion.
no subject
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?"
no subject
She sticks to Yseult's side like the somewhat nervous ward she's playing at, and if anyone looks at her and sees her nerves and discomfort, it plays well into the guise they've picked for the night. They part, and Ellie is keenly aware of where Yseult is at all times. She nurses a lemonade in a corner, finds a couple of outskirts of groups to skulk in, and otherwise avoids having any reason for anyone to approach her and offer to fill a name into her dance card.
There are a few other, similar young ladies, and none of them know each other either.
Keeping her head down, Ellie silently maps out the servants as much as the nobles, noting the general rotation of each, the ones who are gossiping, the duties being shirked. When Yseult comes back to her she takes her arm, clinging to her a little. It makes it easy to lean in as if for comfort.
"Two of the servants are flirting every time they cross each other in the garden," she says, starting with the lowest stakes first. "They're starting to annoy the others, who are promising they won't cover for them if they sneak off together."
She leans in a little closer, not-so-subtly pointing at the smallish lemon cakes, as if to recommend them.
"Restricted access to the back wing, though... not accepting bribes either. I saw those two guys who got turned away. That's probably where we need to look."
Ellie pauses.
"I saw a servant enter another part of that wing with a key. There's a door in the garden."
no subject
"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."
no subject
"Yep," she says, taking the opportunity to put down her own empty glass -- or at least appear to do so. Instead, she deftly slips it into one of the hidden pockets of her voluminous skirts. It won't shatter too easily, and Ellie's had hundreds of opportunities to appreciate the versatility of readily broken glass.
"We're lucky it's a hallway and not a door."
no subject
"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?"
no subject
She smooths her hand shyly over the front of her dress.
"Two minutes," she says decisively. "I've done three, but that's pushing it."
And, because it's necessary: "Squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no, three for wait and see."
They did something similar on patrols.
no subject
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?"
no subject
Ellie's eyes find the man just as Yseult draws her attention, and she lifts a hand to cover her mouth, like she's choking back a slightly horrified giggle and struggling not to look at the unlucky soul.
It works like a charm.
From behind her hand, she murmurs: "Yeah, but it won't be the same. You'll see." There's no real explaining what the world is like when you're invisible, but it's different. There'll be no danger of forgetting that they're doing something decidedly supernatural.
no subject
"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.
no subject
Ellie nods once, then falls into step next to Yseult, timing her breaths, getting several deep ones, slowing her heart rate. She's practiced on the rooftops of Kirkwall, in the caves along the coast, and in the midst of war engagements. Timing it properly is not a problem.
Between one step and the next, they disappear. Ellie remembers to cover her chest with her hand. To close her eyes.
And then they are in it.
Yseult will be able to breathe normally, it's only Ellie who has to hold her breath. They stand the same world, in the same place, but shadowed. Colors appear less glossy, the sounds muted- though if they focus on any one thing it will jump back to looking and sounding as it should, surrounded with that halo of shadow.
Ellie alone looks real and unshadowed next to Yseult -- with one change. In the center of her chest bears a light, bright blue glow. The same shade as pure lyrium veins. It appears to be no particular shape, and it's clearly shining through her skin, like it originates in the center of her, somewhere.
The light of it shelters them, a soft, pleasant tingling on their skin. Ellie switches from linked arms to holding Yseult's hand, and nods at her, encouraging her to go on.
no subject
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.
no subject
She easily follows Yseult, hitching up her skirts with one hand. Blue's power doesn't make them silent, just invisible. They dodge on through, keeping quiet, and Ellie keeps up beautifully -- a childhood following Joel through active battlezones would do that.
Ellie checks the hallway front and back and finds no eyes. They're directly behind the couple, pacing them. She drops it, just for half a second. Just long enough to take a deep breath in through her nose. They flicker back into existence, just long enough for Ellie to fill her lungs with air, like a swimmer.
In front of them one of the couple shivers and rubs the back of her neck, but doesn't turn around.
Ellie squeezes Yseult's hand. Good to go.
no subject
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."
no subject
She's quick, but Ellie's feeling somewhat lightheaded by the time she gets the door open, and she's grateful when they find the room empty. She flips the lock shut behind them on the door and catches her breath, making sure to go slowly rather than to gulp air. Her palms are a little sweaty, so she wipes them on her skirts.
"Gotcha."
The desk isn't large enough for the both of them to search at once, so Ellie keeps an ear trained on the door and quietly begins searching along the shelves, looking for signs of something frequently moved. Everything's impeccably dusted, so the usual tells she looks for are harder to find.
The sconces are normal, and none of the books seem remarkable, so she looks to the carpets, and then the Hunterhorn ram. She checks the base of the book-cases next, finds that one has a locked drawer.
"... hm. This one's shut tight."
no subject
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!"
no subject
So with a sigh she crouches down to try her rudimentary picking skills with one of her tools -- and almost immediately has to retract it into the wrist of her evening gloves, getting to her feet and retreating to a place next to Yseult.
A single nod, and she has just a moment to arrange her face into slightly flustered relief, to match Ysuelt's. She holds her tongue for the time being; on the field, she's coming to learn that silence is often the most effective tool. People tend to read all kinds of things into it, and it's usually what they're expecting to see.
no subject
"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?"
no subject
Still, her heart rate's starting to pick up. This is the kind of shit she definitely doesn't want to get stuck in.
The way Yseult seems to lean into it is even more fucked up -- but then Ellie considers. It's possible that she's distracting him. All the better for Ellie to get an opening.
She sweeps her hand behind her and into one of the hidden pockets of her skirts, coming up with the glass she secreted there.
"I-I," she says, nervously, playing her part to the hilt. "My throat's very dry, so- do you mind if I go get another lemonade first?"
She takes two steps, as if to move past him to the door.
no subject
"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?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: oblique reference to a pedophile, no detail
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
............hi
literally was just thinking about this thread lmao
I sensed it somehow
the universe Knew
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk i was just thinking about it but np if it's too dead
<3