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Entry tags:
open | now give me something to believe in.
WHO: Cassian Andor & you
WHAT: A liaison from the Shadow Dragons arrives
WHEN: Bloomingtide
WHERE: Minrathous + Kirkwall
NOTES: Some injury description
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 @
no subject
"I'm Abby. I've got water and disinfectant on me, and a needle. I could stitch this up for you if you like."
He doesn't have to take her up on it. The fabric jammed up in there, all dried in the blood, that will hold and do a good job, especially if he keeps up the pressure on it with his palm. But the air has an iron stink to it and his shirt is ruined, and he seems pretty pale besides. So he might appreciate the offer.
no subject
Now that Cassian’s off his feet and sitting down, the exhaustion’s starting to chase at the edge of his consciousness: the adrenaline rush ebbing now that he’s made it here safely, taking refuge in the safehouse, not having to look over his shoulder quite so panicked and paranoid anymore. Just a little longer, he reminds himself.
“Just needed to get here first; everything else could wait.” Including medical attention; but now it’s a moment to breathe, catch his breath, check out the damage.
“Think we’ve got a minute now, though. Are you a healer?”
no subject
Old school. In a pinch, it can work. The blood flushing out with the water is bright red, which is good.
Casually, while working, she asks, "You from Tevinter?"
no subject
“Yes,” he says, and lets the Tevene accent sit heavier on his tongue. “Lived here my whole life.”
(This is not exactly true. But it’s true enough, for now.)
no subject
As quick as she can, anyway. But he's taking it in stride and she doesn't question that, simply gets on with it. The gash is, thankfully, not that long. Five or six stitches should do it.
"What's living in Minrathous like?"
no subject
“It’s a shithole,” he says, frankly. “Great for people with magic, awful for people without. A lot like Lowtown, in your Kirkwall. But… I don’t know, that isn’t a reason not to try to make it better. Shabby, but there’s community. Great street food.”
Another hiss of breath. At least her hands are steady.
no subject
"What kind of street food? That was my favourite thing about Kirkwall when I got here for the first time. They have good markets on in the weekends." And she likes good, fresh, delicious food. It was a treat at home and it's a treat here too.
A gentle trickle of water to flush a path out for her work — she smudges blood with her thumb, keeps working.
no subject
When, not if. It’s making some assumptions about Riftwatch taking him in long-term, but he knows his credentials are legit. And even bleeding into her hands, there’s an easy friendliness to the man when he has this mask on: he is warm and amiable and even a little lightly flirtatious, seen from a certain angle. It’s often been the best way to smooth over social interactions and get people to like him, he’s found.
But then, a bit of sincerity slips through, thoughtful: “In all my work, I’ve mostly stayed in the Imperium. Never been to Kirkwall. How would you describe it?”
no subject
His next question gets a hum, then an accidental pause. She's knotting off the stitch thread and concentrating on that, producing a little blade from the bundle of first aid supplies with which to sever the extra. Another moment of silence sees her studying her own work, wicking away a bit more blood with her thumb, quick, practised. "It's — busy. And more people live there than there's room for." It doesn't look like it in Hightown and really looks like it in Lowtown.
"'Kay, you're good. I've ruined your interview outfit though."
poss yours to wrap? they can bond again on the 🔪 mission 🔪
“If the Scoutmaster throws me out on my ass, I’ll blame you,” he says, lightly. “Or who knows, maybe it’ll give me some street cred—”
And then he rises to his feet, wavering a little, but his step steadies.
“Thanks again. You okay bringing me through, or should we wait for morning? It’s not urgent— I don’t have news of an imminent Venatori attack or anything.”
He doesn’t know this end of their procedures: whether it’s better to clear him straightaway, or wait for someone else to relieve Abby’s watch on the safehouse first. He’s antsy to keep moving and see Kirkwall now that he’s made it this far, but it’s not worth waking up their leadership and pissing them off with sleep deprivation; if he has to wait, he’ll sit tight.
WRAPS 🎀
After staring pointedly at his side and deciding the blood on the shirt is just the blood on the shirt that was there before and nothing new, she relents, joins him in standing. "Yeah, c'mon."
There's somebody on the other side within shouting distance she can pass him off to in the interest of returning to her post as soon as possible — and besides, she'd love a moment to wash her hands...
"I'll take you through."