faderift | [Open] OH MAN! WHIZBANGS!

"We have our share of researchers who will want a word with you."

There, the trace sign of humour bitten into a dry tone, though his expression doesn't shift very much. Impossible to miss the heat emanating off of her, or the way the customarily chilly air of the dungeon has now become humid enough that he might regret the thickness of his coat or necktie if he had any intention to stay for very long.

A nod to her, then, as Marcus asks, "Is it a danger to us? Your device."

Either Karlach's a top-tier spy, or the misty hope in her eyes is completely real. Her lower lip actually trembles as she takes a deep breath, struggling to keep a lid on her rising excitement. Is he saying what she thinks he is?

"No," she says immediately, choking it out with a laugh of relief that she's still struggling to keep a good handle on. He hasn't said yes.

"I'd have the fire brigade in just to be safe, mind- but it won't explode."

"Mm."

He believes her, he finds. At least, he believes she is giving him her honest opinion. He also believes it will take a more learned person than he to make a true determination about how accurate this honest opinion is, but while he is here, making an assessment—

Marcus raises and turns a hand, and there's probably something familiar in even this small gesture, the characteristic grace of it, followed by the subtle glow of magic that traces after fingertips held in the air. Magic use. Minor, apparently, a measuring of that heat in the air, where it's being pulled from, whether that glowing heat is from something mechanical or produced from some small tear in the Veil, the way lyrium is wont to do.

If it occurs to him he might have asked first— well, it doesn't occur to him.

Edited 2023-11-18 03:45 (UTC)

Karlach had suspected that he was a mage. Staff or no staff, one usually wouldn't confine themselves like Karlach if they didn't feel certain they could defend themselves.

The gesture is familiar, leaves a tingle of dread over her skin that's borne of that familiarity more than what he's actually doing.

The device in her chest is indeed made with and operating through the power of lyrium. A machina of sorts, engraved with spellwork and meant to cycle the power of the device back into itself to keep it running. To keep her running. Or at least, it's meant to. It's running hot, so hot that something in it is overheating, grinding on itself and burning far too much fuel. It doesn't seem to be causing damage to the Veil, but it wouldn't be a huge leap to guess that it has the potential for it, if it combusts. And it very well might.

Karlach has been too hot for most mortals to touch for nigh on a decade now, but this is worse than even she is used to. Volatile. It won't take much of a push from him to surmise that she is in constant pain, and while there is spellwork to help give her some resistance to the heat, it isn't enough.

It's not too hard to guess that this was part of the reason she stayed under Zariel's control for so long.

Edited 2023-11-18 03:49 (UTC)

Lightly glowing runic symbols pulse once in the air before dimming, fading, and Marcus' fingers curl in against his palm. Focus resharpening, engaging more outward senses than inner.

"As a show of good faith," he says, one hand collecting the other wrist as if to work some tension our through the tendon, "you'll ensure you return to the Gallows each night for the time being, should you choose to move off the island. I would also suggest committing your knowledge of the magister Zariel and her involvement in the war for the leadership's review—they may have further questions. I can assist you."

A nod to her. "It's what you want, to fight alongside us?"

The glow of the runes shines off of Karlach's eyes as she opens them again, feeling the magic fade away from her skin. It leaves it tingling, not quite pleasant. Not quite bad either. She watches him with wide eyes, shoulders hunched, hands going white-knuckled as they grip together.

She expects something far, far more severe than what comes out Captain Rowntree's mouth.

"Yes," she says immediately. "Yeah, I do. I can do that."

Her voice falters partway through, and she takes a deep breath, thick with tears and fragile hope, a gossamer holding back a torrent of fear.

"That's it?" she asks. "That's all you want?"

If that tone in her voice softens him, it's embedded in only fine details—just a slightly less tense way of holding his mouth, maybe a subtle slackening across the line of his shoulders. Near subliminal, this messaging that he understands her to be less of a threat than she was a moment ago; and he, to her.

"Aye," Marcus says. And he could leave it at that. Move to open the door, begin rattling off the information she will need to get a foot in; signing her name to Forces (he would imagine), locating a room, where to find food—

And he will, at least as a courtesy to herself and everyone else around, but he says instead, "Our Commander is a Tevinter pirate. Our former Ambassador, a spy of Ferelden's throne. I served with the mage rebellion, and a Templar of my Circle is permitted to walk our walls on guard duty assigned by myself."

Here, some small change to an expression that has remained stubbornly neutral throughout; a barely there upturn at the corner of his mouth, a trace of humour. "And our traitors rarely come to us with their hearts glowing through their chests."

It's better that he maintains himself. It gives her the grace of an example to help her get herself back together.

Karlach reaches up to wipe at her face, where a pesky tear has escaped. Back in there, you! And get to her feet to follow the Captain. He has such a large, steady presence that she's surprised by how much taller she is than him.

The steady relay of information means that all he needs from her is a nod now than again, a quick clarification, and by the time he almost-smiles at her, like it's an offhand thought and not the most comforting gesture of welcome she's had since her arrival, a little smile has caught up to her.

Karlach gives a slightly wet laugh, heartfelt and warm, and breaks into a broad grin.

"Sounds like I'm going to love it here."

[Open] OH MAN! WHIZBANGS!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject