WAR TABLE: Bad Blood

[doneisdone]

WHO: Teren, Abby & Cassian
WHAT: war table Scouting assignment
WHEN: ~Kingsway
WHERE: Minrathous
NOTES: cw for murrrrrderrrr

Minrathous gossip rags have been plastering the streets with stories of a rift (not that kind) recently formed between two prominent Venatori magisters, along with all sorts of salacious speculation as to its origin. Take advantage of the alleged bad blood to assassinate one or both of them and frame the other(s).

Comments

[interroga]

“Only by reputation. But Vatharis is a known sleaze,” there were so many gossip rags throughout Minrathous, it sometimes felt like there were stalls with loud hawkers and floating scrolls on every street corner, “so for motive… maybe an affair? Either of you good at fake love letters?”

Ideally, by the end, there’ll be one more magister dead. If they can frame the other one for murder and tarnish his reputation in society at the same time, well, that’d be grand. Cassian is practically itching for it, even as he falls in beside them, a quick-step to keep up with the women.

[armd]

"Um," Abby says awkwardly. Make as well throw it out there if it's for a mission. "I... could probably write something."

Neither of them have to know this is because she loves a soppy romance novel — they'll have to think that she is, secretly, a romantic person. Abby can't tell which of these things is worse, actually. She's keeping hard pace with Teren out of principle, now.

[doneisdone]

It’s a quick pace as far as walking goes, and Teren is nodding along as the two discuss the strategy; a grunt of approval at Abby’s suggestion, and she’s certain she chose the right team.
Her pace hitches suddenly, and though she doesn’t slow entirely to a stop, Teren seems like her attention is elsewhere, listening for something no one else can hear.

[interroga]

Good, he’s thinking, if Abby can write the letter then I can plant it on the estate —

But Cassian isn’t comfortable yet in the Crossroads (and frankly, politely, he thinks you’re fucking insane if you are) to take it easy here, and so his hackles go up the moment Teren’s step hitches. Their de facto leader, as he’s already thinking of her by virtue of age and experience.

His gaze drifts across the landscape, a broad scan for movement. Looking for demons or spirits or whatever-the-hell makes their home here along the margins.

“Everything alright?”

[armd]

Abby doesn't say anything. She's splitting her attention between watching Teren and listening hard for whatever she's noticed. Her hand, first on the handle of her mace belted in at her side, takes it fully out, quiet-like, dangles it at her side. Her grip is a little loose, easy, ready for a swing.

It may come as a surprise that she can hold herself this tense, barely breathing — it's all leftover instinct. It hasn't gone away and Abby hopes it never does.

"Hate this place," she breathes after a minute. They're still walking forward. Teren is still quiet.

[doneisdone]

Whatever she's hearing, it's inaudible to anyone else; Teren continues to stand like a stone for several moments more, but is jarred out of her trance by Cassian's question. She blinks at him, eyes narrowed, and then, for whatever reason, just smiles wryly.

"We'll be there shortly," she says from behind Abby, quickening her pace to stay in the lead and bring them through the gate.

[interroga]

Cassian stares back at Teren, a question mark in his eyes. But the moment passes, and they’re back into movement, and there’s no room to wonder any further. Instead, the closer they get to the mirror, he finds himself now lapsing into relaying information. The whole reason they’d brought him; the Shadow Dragons had extensive dossiers on both magisters.

Not for the first time, he drifts into what he thinks of as Luthen’s brusque delivery, to-the-point description of logistics and what they’ll need to do. This is just like any other briefing he’d received.

“We’ll exit in the Minrathous safehouse,” a familiar place, considering it’s where Abby scraped him off the street, “and should have some time there to get into servants’ outfits and for Abby to write the incriminating letter. I’ll plant that on Vatharis’ estate and work on getting— some sort of weapon from his house, whatever’s available.

“They both live in Hightown, unsurprisingly. While the two of you figure out how to kill Sarn, I’ll play scout. What’s your plan for the assassination itself? I’ll try to match the weapon to it, when I bring it to you.”

[armd]

Abby doesn't relax. She's ready and that's a hard thing to switch off — she keeps her mace in hand and held aloft until they stride into the gate; then she has to put it away at last. She's pretty sure the definition of being casual and undercover does not include walking around with your weapon out even if you really want to.

Minrathous again. She can see a little smudge of something rust brown on the floor of the safehouse and scuffs it with the toe of her boot as they come through. Could very well be a smudge of old blood from the last time she was here.

Shit, she wasn't thinking about the letter. Hard to get into a romantic frame of mind while you're wondering if you're about to get jumped by a Crossroads demon. She sighs and sets her jaw, slings her pack down to dig a hand into it. This produces a paperback from a side pocket and she opens it from the other end, finds a few blank pages. Very carefully she extracts one, coaxing it from the seam with her thumb.

"Anybody got something I can write with?"

[doneisdone]

Teren, taking a little too long to respond, gives a short but genuinely delighted sounding laugh-- whether it's at the conversation or something else she doesn't clarify, but then she's back again.

"There'll be something here," she muses, peering around the safehouse. "For Sarn, the two of us will act as servants and get her in the usual way. Try to find a dagger."

maybe 🎀

[interroga]

“’The usual way’,” Cassian repeats, and there’s a flicker of bleak almost-amusement at that phrasing. What have their lives become. What have their lives been, all these years, that murder is such a regular occurrence and not worth flinching at.

But the safehouse is a brief respite, a chance to breathe and catch their breath and gather their wits and supplies before they head into the field. Cassian goes rummaging through the wardrobe while Abby searches for quill-and-ink, and they’ll take some time to prepare before the job itself later.