open | now give me something to believe in.

[interroga]

WHO: Cassian Andor & you
WHAT: A liaison from the Shadow Dragons arrives
WHEN: Bloomingtide
WHERE: Minrathous + Kirkwall
NOTES: Some injury description

arrival.

It’s a late spring night when a stranger arrives at the Widow Tavisa’s Boarding House.

Most regular guests would take the front entrance and speak to the innkeeper in the main room; but this one slips through the back entrance and takes an out-of-the-way servant’s staircase, into a shuttered wing of the building which isn’t supposed to be open to the public. But those rare people in the know might be aware that this leads to Riftwatch’s secret outpost in Minrathous —

The darkhaired man slumps against the locked door leading into their safehouse. He knocks on the door in a fixed, staccato rhythm identifying him as an ally. He has a hand pressed to his side with worrisome urgency, jaw tight and teeth gritted against the pain; he knocks again a little louder, in case whoever’s on watch is dozing.

No one’s expecting a new arrival right at this hour. It’s not ideal.

settling in.

After finally getting vetted and officially joining, Cassian tucks the Riftwatch pin into his pocket and starts to get the lay of the land, gathering information, pressing a finger to the pulse of this new city he’s going to be calling home.

There’s a kind of amiable affability to this new arrival, his smile calculated to be inoffensive and mild, even as the gears are very busily ticking away behind his dark-brown eyes.

You might find him at the Gallows bar, pouring himself a drink and smoothly sliding into the chair at your table to pry: “So, what’s your favourite place in the Gallows or Kirkwall?”

Or wandering the battlements of the towers and looking out across the city. Rebuilding is expensive, and so some parts of Kirkwall still bear the marks of the Venatori attack a little over a year ago: collapsed buildings that never got raised again, battle-scars and scorch marks from dracolisks. “What was it like?” he asks. “The Venatori attack.”

He also goes for long walks through the city, right past the alienage (although his gaze lingers), and venturing into the deeper recesses of the city slums. One particular afternoon, he emerges from Darktown blinking half-blinded into the dim light of Lowtown, which is right about when a few thieves assemble around him for an attempted mugging, knives brandished. “I really don’t have time for this,” he says to the ringleader, looking more annoyed than frightened; which is right about when a Riftwatch colleague might turn the corner and encounter the scene.


( Also happy to receive wildcards, or to write up a bespoke starter for you; just hmu @ quadrille if you’d like to discuss! )

Comments

settling. hello beloved countryman

[altusimperius]

It's not long after Cassian's official joining date that Riftwatch's own welcome wagon, Benedict, approaches him, carrying his little writing board and not at all nervous that he's about to speak to a real live Shadow Dragon, thanks for asking.

"Messere Andor?" he asks brightly, "I'm--" sometimes the surname is there, sometimes it isn't-- to say it now, he might as well paint a target on himself. "--Benedict."
He smiles.
"...personnel officer. I wanted to see how you were finding everything."

[interroga]

Benedict finds him at breakfast in the dining hall, digging into some rough bread and scrambled eggs and watery tea, coffee still being at too much of a premium to afford often. It’s a quiet morning; ordinarily Cassian has been cozying up to people, trying to get their stories, but he’s alone today until the personnel officer approaches.

(This long table isn’t exactly the same as the small, bustling Shadow Dragons mess hall tucked away in a safehouse, but: close enough.)

“How I’m finding everything,” Cassian echoes, pausing after spearing some more eggs, looking at the other man a little too closely. He can hear home in Benedict’s syllables, the shape of his words; and rather than evoke some simpatico, it makes Cassian automatically warier.

“Well. The breakfast’s decent.”

[altusimperius]

"We do our best," Benedict chirps, straightening as though paid a personal compliment-- keep it light, keep it cheerful-- "may I sit?"

He gestures to the seat across from Cassian's, even the motion of his wrist subtly outing him as upper class.

[interroga]

“It’s a free country,” Cassian says with a flash of a smile, and —

his expression is ostensibly friendly and the words aren’t unpleasant, exactly, but there’s a bitter bite beneath the surface. Sharp and sardonic, pressing his thumb on a particular bruise for a Tevene citizen like himself: Kirkwall still breathes free while Corypheus now sits openly in the Archon’s seat.

But he waves his own free hand, a have at it gesture. Cassian’s still new here. He’ll take the welcome wagon as it comes.

[altusimperius]

Cluing into the tension, Benedict nonetheless slides himself carefully onto the bench-- his quality of motion brings to mind someone interfacing with a dangerous, perhaps venomous animal, trying not to provoke it.

"What brings you to Riftwatch?" he asks quietly, humbly.