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

[bouchonne]

It is the voice that triggers it. It wouldn’t be easy to make that connection under normal circumstances: they are a long way from Minrathous, and a Tevinter intelligence operative should have better places to be than Lowtown.
Varian Skye has a long way to go to jump into Byerly’s mind. But that voice is so dreadfully distinctive - the accent idiosyncratic amongst even Tevenes. And Byerly has a talent for learning things by ear.

His smile doesn’t change. His posture remains the same. But his gaze sharpens, and he lets his hand move (bit by bit, through apparently unconnected gestures) towards his dagger sheath.

“It’s sensible to me,” says Byerly. “I’ll even let you borrow a few fine things that’ll let you blend in. If you cut us both in, of course.” He winks at Cassian. “I think our friend has earned something for his trouble.”

“Get bent,” Ingrid says. But at long last, she sheathes her knife, her silent and meek compatriot following her lead and doing likewise. Then she eyes Cassian. “You new in town? Vint, right? You need a crew to hook into?”

(Whatever her rough language and poor manners might imply, it seems she’s impressed by Cassian’s poise.)