open | jeaaaaalousy

[cozen]

WHO: Anyone.
WHAT: Ferreting out imposters.
WHEN: Drakonis 9:50
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: This is a catch-all for anyone who needs a place to put logs related to the envy demon plot. Use CWs in your subject lines.

art

Some number of Riftwatch's members are, presently, envy demons in disguise. Better find them.


RECAP
Previously, all these things happened on one day actually:

• Julius was poisoned and Flint, Yseult, and Marcus killed the culprit.
  
• Marcus ordered the Gallows on lock-down. No one's allowed to leave, but Riftwatch members outside the Gallows at the time are required to return.
  
• Yseult announced the possible presence of shape-changing imposters.
  
• Byerly encouraged identifying people who might be affected.
  
• Templars had a huddle.

Comments

dining hall (ota)

[thereneverwas]

Two figures have settled in at an empty table in the dining hall, where the larger and more familiar of them is sitting bent over a pack of cards that he proceeds to clumsily shuffle. Cigarette clamped in his lips, he offers a friendly (for the circumstances) nod and a tip of his head to any newcomers, inviting them to come sit with him and Octavius.

It's a bit of calm in the middle of things, or at least it's intended to be.

[quaestionespatris]

Octavius, seated across from Barrow (well, 'seated' anyway; he's semi-slouched forward against the table with a high cheekbone supported on the heel of one hand, two fingers of which neatly hold a lit cigarette away from his hair), watches him clumsily shuffle the cards. He's lapsed back into dismal moodiness now that their banter from before has been interrupted, but not so lost in his own private grief over Benedict that he isn't paying attention.

"So which one is the stronger suit again," he mumbles without straightening up, "angels or knights?" If Barrow explained the rules once already, Octavius was.. not listening. okay so maybe he wasn't paying attention

I'm making this shit up don't @ me

[thereneverwas]

"Knights," Barrow says easily, beginning to deal with a practiced carelessness. Of course he's clocked that the lad's mind is elsewhere, that the air itself is fraught with tension from all corners of the Gallows; anything could happen, anyone could be false, and worse, their true version has likely been long dead.

"Vyrantium, eh?" he asks, bringing up a previous thread of conversation, "you're from up north then?"

@'s you anyway

[quaestionespatris]

Octavius collects up his cards as they're dealt and organizes them into a simple fan between his fingers, frowning bemusedly down at the suits without really paying them much attention. There is an attempt made to arrange them in terms of their perceived value, but the Maker only knows if he's got a decent hand to play.

"'Up north,'" he repeats Barrow's words back to him, smiling drolly across the cards, and finishes off what remains of his cigarette before putting it out in what he hopes is an ashtray, and not some random decorative bowl. "Is that the Southern euphemism for Tevinter these days?" A beat, and then, "I'm from Qarinus. Only spent a few summers in Vyrantium for my education, but it was interesting. Fashionable," he adds, then, "and the floating aqueduct is a marvel."

>:C

[thereneverwas]

With a chuckle at the observation, Barrow shrugs lazily-- yeah, it might be.

"Didn't know Rutyer had family in Tevinter," he remarks, without judgment, "how are you related?" Shuffling his cards around, he keeps his gaze fixed on them, puffing away at his second cigarette.

[quaestionespatris]

Oh, shit. What was it Byerly had said--that he had an aunt--or was it an uncle?--go up north to marry into a family in trade of some sort? Octavius' eyes shift uneasily from his cards back to Barrow, somewhat relieved to find him still focused on his cards, then back again.

Aunt, or uncle? Kaffas, quit dithering, just choose one--

"Uh, through his uncle." He fidgets with his cards, clears his throat. Fidget fidget fidget. "We're more like second cousins once removed. On my father's side." nailed it

[thereneverwas]

Barrow pauses, frowning at the cards in his hand, and carefully reorganizes a few of them.

"Did you visit him in Amaranthine often? Or is this a long-awaited reunion?"

closed to Cedric, Vanya, and Vanya

[thereneverwas]

Heavy footsteps arrive outside the smithy and come to a stop, with a quiet mutter into the crystal: Barrow has arrived, as he informs Carsus, and won't be proceeding any further until he gets an idea of what he's walking into. Stealth, as one might imagine, has never been his strong point.

He wears a leather jerkin from the sparring pitch, too tight for him but better than nothing, laced as loosely as possible over his linen shirt and still all but bursting at the seams. But the last time he went into battle without armor, it... well. Was Granitefell.

[dissolving]

He's been circling the courtyard the better few hours now, a winding route interspersed with convenient pauses to listen to a crystal, murmur back a response -

(Duck his head into the sparring courts, the spare rooms, the storage closets,)

It stopped a short time ago, as his patrol peeled off from the smithy toward the yard. He returned on quieter feet: Cedric steps around the doorway, lifts a finger from the hilt of his blade and over the corner of his mouth. He's in gambeson alone.

It's trapped now - but there'll be precious little room to manuever inside. He or Barrow might flush the thing out, into the other's blade, and risk an escape.

Or they can both press in.

Cedric tips his chin in silent question. Who first?

[thereneverwas]

Locking eyes with Cedric across the doorway, Barrow gives a terse nod, his mouth flattening into a line as he casts a glance within. He's never been the one to make these decisions, but seniority, and the open look on the young Templar's face, suggest that this might be his lot; better not fuck it up.

He points away from himself and gestures with his head, mouthing 'back door' to Cedric, readying his own sword to indicate he'll be ready to either catch out anyone trying to leave through this one, or to close in from behind if Orlov should engage.

Assuming it is Orlov in there. They'll probably check first.

[dissolving]

He nods, cuts a glance to the shadowed entry. A short pivot around - a minute or two that seem to stretch longer -

Cedric steps inside.

"Orlov?" Soft. Something familiar in this act: The man who frets after Vanya at mealtime, who wouldn't raise his name about the other Templars. He sounds a little suspicious. He sounds a lot worried, "I think we need a plan."

The sword holds by his side. Drawn, but low. At rest.

[thereneverwas]

Pressing himself against the wall by the doorframe in an effort to obscure himself, Barrow waits and listens.

[wearyallalone]

Vanya hasn't been seen or heard from (well, mostly) since Gwenaëlle urgently told Yseult "it's not him" over sending crystal. The Gallows is a large place for the number of people living and working in it, after all. There are a lot of places to hide, and a lot of incentive to keep moving out of sight.

So the fact that Cedric gets an actual answer could mean a few things: This is a trap that the demon has set. This is a trap that the demon is in. Or it's a play for time.

Regardless, the answer is still a chillingly accurate mimic of Vanya Orlov's voice and cadence. Calm, a hint of resignation. "I don't think I believe very much in a we, at the moment. Unless that isn't me you're talking to."

clarisse, ellie, gwen, and "gela"

[laruetheday]

The longer it takes to find Gela, the more Clarisse is convinced that their original plan to bait her might not work. Gela's room is empty, as are the baths and the dining hall and the infirmary. She hasn't been using her crystal.

The demon knows they're looking for it, and it's hiding from them.

It's her and Ellie walking through the complex, with Gwenaëlle trailing them and keeping mostly out of sight. It's not quite as much backup as she would've liked, considering what they're up against, and considering what they're up against might know they're coming.

As they make their way through, she's increasingly reminded that this whole complex used to be a prison.

"Shh," she says, though no one's been talking. She hears something up ahead, steps on the stone walkway, quiet but unmistakable. Alone, when everyone is supposed to be grouped up. She can't tell if the person is moving toward them or away.

Clarisse calls out, "Gela?"

[sprent]

‘Gela’ is laying low. She had thought about responding to the initial crystal message but the longer it all carried on, the longer they all sat around discussing everything, the wiser it seemed to stay silent. The more damning too, but that only gave her more time to slink out of her room and try to find somewhere dark and quiet, from which to plan her next move, maybe locate the others.

She's actually pacing when they find her, thinking, turning on a bright smile the moment she registers distant footsteps. They're all supposed to be staying put, aren't they? Maybe it's somebody who hasn't heard yet. And it's Clarisse's voice that calls out to her, this approximation of somebody she knows, who turns toward her with delight, something like relief.

"Clarisse. It's good to—"

Well. It would have been good to see her had she been alone, very good. But she isn't, she's with, "Ellie."

It's Gela's warm, unwavering smile, her face and mannerisms, but not quite her voice. Or, rather, her voice but what it sounds like when she's just come across something deeply unpleasant, something she would rather not be seeing.

[elegiaque]

Boots abandoned somewhere a few hallways ago and stocking feet moving quieter than they would have done — stealth is not, at the best of times, her especial strong suit — Gwenaëlle brings up the rear out of easy line of sight. Orlov, the real one, has her sword; her bow, for now, still rests at her back, hand in gauntlet flexing, listening ahead to the sound of something that she knows isn't Gela.

She'd thought it would be easier than Vanya, when she'd volunteered to back up Clarisse— but that had been before she'd entrusted a bedraggled, half-starved Gela Baynrac to Stephen's care on the houseboat and surrendered her sword to the bearded man running on fumes and anger who she could have been fighting beside, easily assured that whatever other thing was in front of her wouldn't catch her off-guard with just the wrong moment of woundedness.

Hindsight is 20/20. At least she's equally fucking sure this thing isn't a person she'll regret putting an arrow in.

[notathreat]

Ellie remains two steps after Clarisse. Her trigger finger still gets itchy even after all of these years, and she's put a bullet in a friend more than once after they've turned. She wonders if this will be like that. A monster in a body she recognizes.

It's easier now that she knows Gela will be safe. That Vanya is all right. It's terrifying that it took them this long to realize.

She worries it will be difficult.

But then Gela-who-isn't smiles at her like that, and Ellie feels all doubt flee every nerve at once. Gela would never speak to her like that. This isn't her. It won't be hard at all.

"Hey," she says, drawing herself up short, drawing on every ounce of her training with Yseult to appear slightly hurt.

"You okay?

[sprent]

"I'm scared," Gela says, smiling staying firmly in place for a beat too long; when it drops away she hunches her shoulders up, glancing over one of them. When she looks back, her attention rivets to Ellie, noting the way she's holding herself, a silent appraisal, a little two-second look. Enough to start to make a plan.

She takes a breath. Now she looks anxious, her eyes wide.

"Something's happening, isn't it. I don't know what's going on, but I heard them say, on the crystals, that we're supposed to stay together. And I don't know how to fight."

Here, she looks at Ellie beseechingly. "I forgot my knife, back in my room. But you're good with yours, aren't you? You'd be okay on your own; Clarisse and I can go together, if you'd like to help somebody else."

[laruetheday]

Maybe it's confirmation bias, but Clarisse can't believe she ever thought that this was her friend.

It's so much worse now, of course, because the demons know they're aware of them. They're scrambling, getting desperate. It shows in the way Gela's reactions aren't quite matching up with her voice, like there's a delay in processing. The way she keeps looking at Ellie and so obviously wanting to get rid of her. It wants to get this over with quickly.

Clarisse reaches back to put a hand on Ellie's arm, finding her by touch alone. She squeezes gently, with casual affection, and keeps her hand resting against Ellie's forearm, but the entire time, her eyes are locked on Gela.

"We can't." She swallows. This is the part of the plan that's iffiest, for her. She's never been a great liar, but she's hoping that any nervousness in her voice will be something the demon will chalk up to the panic and uncertainty everyone in Riftwatch is feeling right now, the situation being what it is.

"We're leaving soon—division heads have us going out on this special mission. We just wanted to make sure you were okay first, before we headed out. Since we hadn't heard from you."

yseult.

[portalling]

[ So it’s a little embarrassing, having gotten chummy with a demon and not even realising it.

Which means that during his own lockdown in the Central Tower, Doctor Strange has been stewing over how the fuck this happened. Not on patrol, restless for something to do and mortified about the clues he’d missed, he’s been poring over the reports to answer the question: when was the last time Riftwatch even came into contact with demons? The Silent Plains were too long ago; Averesch had cleared them before First Day. Orlov was in Vyrantium in Wintermarch, but the others weren’t, and there weren’t any demons mentioned.

It’s a process of cross-reference and elimination leaving, mostly, one possibility. One large, albeit quiet, operation which had mustered much of Riftwatch to assist.

He climbs the stairs of the central tower, to the eighth floor. Knocks businesslike on a doorframe, and pokes his head in. ]

Scoutmaster, a word?

[hassaran]

[ After all the earlier excitement, Yseult has cleaned the demon goo off her shoes and hiked back up to her office, where she is currently seated in one of the armchairs before the hearth (flickering low against the damp cool of the day). She leans around its edge to nod at Strange. ]

Come in. [ She wears her crystal on a slim silver chain around her neck, and she tucks it now back into the neck of her blouse. ] What is it?

[portalling]

[ Entering the room, Strange takes position by one of the other armchairs; he’ll take a seat if she gestures that it’s alright. Thankfully, he knows Gwenaëlle’s already cleared him for Yseult, otherwise there might be some more awkward preamble here; instead, he just gets to launch right into it. ]

Since I’m not out there patrolling and knocking skulls, I’ve instead spent some time considering when, exactly, our security breach might have occurred, in the hopes it might narrow down suspects or give us some ideas for where our people might be. And I wanted to bounce some thoughts off you.

[ Never one to waste time: ] Unless there were any other redacted missions all of our imposters happened to attend at the same time— Were you at the Crossroads, back in Wintermarch?

[hassaran]

[ Yseult does gesture at the chair opposite, and at the decanter and glasses on a tray on the tea table. ] Help yourself, if you like. I've checked it for poison. [ The decanter's dark liquor glints red in the glass presently resting atop her knee. She lifts it to take a sip and considers his suggestion. ]

Not personally. And all missions in the last few months were recorded in the files.

[portalling]

[ There’s the slightest pause, the paranoid urge to politely decline… but you need to take some things at face value. So Strange nods, pours himself a glass, and takes a bracing sip. ]

Good. Then that narrows the field.

I didn’t see anything out-of-sorts myself then, but just speaking logically: the Crossroads has shifting landscapes where people could go out-of-sight. We weren’t all in the same location at once. And it’s closer to the Fade, rampant with spirits, and eluvians connecting to places where there might be threats.

I’ve been combing through the reports, and everything else seems rote: assassinations, recon, diplomacy. And I heard Averesch confirm it must have been sometime in the past couple months, no earlier.

[hassaran]

Yes, he did. My own work with Orlov suggests the same. [ And merits another drink. It's rum, rich and smooth and not too sweet, more expensive than she typically keeps out, but the day called for it. She taps one fingertip on the glass. ]

I'm not aware of any reports of encountering demons in the Crossroads, only spirits. But it seems more plausible than any other explanation turned up so far. Worth investigating. Did you see any of them there?