faderift | I can do it with instruments,

Entry tags:

I can do it with instruments,

WHO: Leliana & open;
WHAT: the many adventures of Sister Nightingale - open prompts and some custom made.
WHEN: Some prompts can be backdated, if you like! Otherwise, spanning the end of fantasy land January.
WHERE: various!
NOTES:brackets or prose are fine, I'll match whatever you prefer :Db feel free to pp me on @swoons on plurk, or pm me if you'd like a custom starter! I'm more than happy to whip one up.

( herald's rest. )

( and there goes someone slinking out of the tavern, and they may just have knocked into your character on their way. they have lost a fine dagger and a bag of coin to a woman sitting in the corner, who is presently shuffling cards with a slight, pleased smile. it was foolish to let skills atrophy, whether it is the wielding of blades and arrows, or the brutal delivery of a winning hand. she has finished her wine, and is waiting for the man at the bar to deliver more. )

( gardens. )

( In the past she would spend more time in their little improvised Chantry, have lit candles and murmured prayers. She finds herself lacking the inclination, today. The Chantry has been a comfort to her for so many years, now, but she has always existed at odds with others. The brothers and sisters in Lothering had doubted her, and there had been part of her that relished the attention, even as she was appalled by their self-centered obsession that the Maker's love must make you unique. The memory makes a sharp, unpleasant smile tug at the corners of her mouth as she wanders the garden. It has become something of habit, letting the sun's descent and the pulling away of the yellows and oranges pooled across the sky and the inky blue and black of the night sky truly falls. Perhaps it is dramatic of her, but she would like to allow herself the indulgence.

Perhaps she hears the approach, and it breaks her from her reverie, or perhaps it is one of the rare occasions where she chooses to make the approach. )

It is beautiful, no?

( wildcard. )

I'm lazy, hit me with whatever idea grabs you :]b Rookery? Nug adventures? idk ANYTHING

( alistair. )

( Most people give their friends some warning before visiting.
Most people, however, are not Leliana, and so it is that she is standing at the entrance of Alistair's chambers just as he is leaving to go somewhere, a squeaking nug following at her ankles. She cannot loom over Alistair (it's not like she can physically loom over most people, actually) but she still has something of a presence, and she sometimes forgets not to loom in social settings. Or maybe she just wants to see the look on his face, because Alistair is so terribly expressive. She can't imagine a worse spy, but that's an endearing quality in a friend. ) Did I catch you at a bad time?

( That smile suggests that she isn't overly concerned about it, actually. )

( maria hill. )

( There were not many templars she held in esteem. Or, perhaps, there were not many templars that she deemed worthy of their rank and responsibility-- no. Leliana frowns, discontent with her own thoughts. The Chantry was a flawed thing, a thing that needed gutting and reworking in its entirety, as much as she suspects the very mention of such thoughts would make some amongst her frequent company less than easy. The Maker was a being of love, of acceptance - and he made mages, and granted them their gift. Why, then, was it the Maker's will that they be torn from their families, treated as if they were abominations before a demon could so much have dreamed of tempting them. Their gifts were shackled, and their wills, and all the while murderers and thieves like Leliana herself could walk free. It was not right, and the thoughts of Chantry corruption, of templar abuses of power and the suffering that those who claimed to do the Maker's bidding brought was insufferable. It could not endure.

Leliana paces, one hand balled into a tight fist as she walks the ramparts, eager to gain some air away from the rookery. And perhaps these thoughts leave her a hypocrite, because what is she, if not a bringer of death? She could bring men to their knees with a threat and a whisper, and cut their throats for the sake of certainty. She was no better, that she knows, but it is not for herself that she Chantry must be reformed. No, she knows the darkness within, and it is only one so well-versed that could dream of cutting away such a foul infection with the surgical precision required.

Perhaps the Maker has a sense of humour, that she looks away from the stretch of blue skies and mountains, only to be met with... a templar, and a cooperative one, at that. The hand that was so tightly clenched relaxes, and Leliana eases her posture, leaning against the ivy-strewn wall. ) Maria. I trust all is well?

( zevran. )

( Luncheon between assassins. It was laughable, in a way. Still, she has put off catching up with her old friend for far too long, and of all people, Zevran is one of few she has the most tolerance for. It is not that she is impatient, and she can play parts well, it is simply... Zevran knows her well, better than most, and so there are those who wish to make an impression on Sister Nightingale, on the advisor and the spymaster, or they are afraid of what she knows and what she can do. Neither particularly bothers her, but sometimes it is pleasant to be in the company of those who do carry the same expectations. Perhaps being in the company of one who remembers the earnest bard come lay-sister is a relief, as well, who has seen her evolution.

Leliana is sitting on a rooftop, eyes closed and inhaling deeply, relishing the way the mountain air stings her lungs on the deep breath, and has something of a picnic - if such a term can be used, in these circumstances - laid out. Eyes still closed, she smiles ever so slightly. He may move silently, stalk with the best, but she is Sister Nightingale, and detection is something she has known for decades, now. )

You made it.

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[ Kitty is very much the same - but far, far more amateurish. Oh, no doubt she has the makings of someone capable someday. But she's a young one, with native wits rather than any mentorship or training in the art of espionage. She sees the drunk and she wonders if he's really asleep, yes, but she doesn't know what the signs are that mark someone as just faking. She considers whether people are loyal, but her investigations are rather rudimentary, her questions broad. When she smiles at Leliana, the cheer is just a little fake - though that, at least, could be passed off as the false friendliness of someone in the service industry, rather than the smile of someone who's watching their conversational partner.

But she is watching. It's the first time she's been near the famous Leliana, and she is curious. The woman is terribly pretty, isn't she. Lots of people are probably disarmed by just how pretty Leliana is - just like people tend to be disarmed by Kitty's sweet face. But there's no question of her wits. Even more than a glass of wine deep, she's alert and bright-eyed. ]

Kitty.

[ No surname given. Not unusual - she's pretending to be very common, and very common sorts often don't have surnames. ]

You're Leliana, right?

That I am. Well met.

( And she means it sincerely, even if her tone betrays little, there is a certain measure of interest in her gaze. She has found that, as her reputation and role within Skyhold has spread amongst those who have come to the Inquisition, people often shy away or overcompensate. Such things do not trouble her overmuch; there are more pressing concerns beyond her withering social capacity. All the same, it is a matter of some slight interest when people neither overcompensate nor draw away like some skittish lamb, stumbling in their awkward attempts to put a literal or metaphorical distance between themselves and the Nightingale.

Head canted just slightly, Leliana knits her hands together and rests them on the table. )

Did you require assistance on some front? ( "can I help you" did seem to win better response than, "do you know anything I should know?" )

No, ma'am.

[ The little barmaid offers a curtsey. Convincingly awkward. It's dangerous, Kitty reflects, talking with the Inquisition's spymaster. There are things she wants to keep hidden, and hiding things is often facilitated by not associating with people who are good at uncovering hidden things. But at times, in the war between curiosity and prudence, curiosity wins.

And so, instead of taking the opportunity to retreat from this supremely dangerous woman, Kitty smiles at her. ]

Not unless you're willing to help me learn to play cards like you do.

( Clever, she suspects. The barmaid is certainly clever, although there is never really any reason to discount them as otherwise. That was the trade of those who overlooked, and those who overlooked were easily dismantled and repurposed.

Leliana smiles, just slightly, even if it is not the bright smile of the young woman who helped fight the blight. It is more guarded and less free, but sometimes it could still be sincere. Only sometimes. Sometimes Leliana herself was not entirely sure where sincerity ended and began, any more, not within herself. It was easier to gauge in others. )

I have no pressing engagements, ( for once, she could add, but does not. She set aside some matters where no progress could be made until more news was received, and an agent will inform her if it arrives. First, though, she nods towards the bar. ) Is your shift almost complete?

Bringing you your wine was the last thing they asked me to do.

[ Something of a lie. Her shift is over, but it's been over for a few minutes now. They didn't exactly ask her to do this: she just sort of claimed the wine for Leliana, and brought it over without being asked to, under the pretense of helping out the other barkeeps. But it's close enough to the truth.

She climbs up into the chair opposite Leliana. It's a little low for her, so she kneels on it, sitting atop her heels. It brings her about up to eye level with her. ]

What game is this?

Convenient for us, then.

( Is there a knowing note to her tone? Certainly not, you are quite mistaken. ) Wicked Grace. It favours the observant and cunning. In my experience, you must monitor the cards you opposition takes as well as observing your own hand.

( A faint quirk at the corner of her mouth, and she slides the cards across the table to her company. ) Shuffle, if you like. My last partner had a few concerns that my shuffle was... skewed.

( And of course it was, but his accusation came from poor sportsmanship rather than a sharp gaze. Such a thing is practically expected in Wicked Grace, and would be perhaps... cruel, to do to a beginner. )

I'd be happy to.

[ Her shuffle is clumsy, to say the least, her small hands fumbling over the cards. She looks up with a grin of sheepish embarrassment. It's a bit of a put-on: Kitty's not an experienced card player, to be certain, but she's shuffled before, and she knows how to do it. It's not that she's trying ti minimize her skill to hustle the woman - she's not terribly concerned about winning. It's more that she's curious how Leliana reacts to amateurs.

As she does, she comments: ]

I've seen people trying to furiously keep notes during a card game before - it must have been Wicked Grace that they were playing. Those people always do seem to lose, though.

( Content to watch, Leliana leans back in her seat. She is quiet, patient. Everyone needs practice, and there is something charming in watching the process of learning and practice. It makes her think of more innocent times. They are long ago and distant, and likely far too idealised in her mind. )

Taking notes is only another means of distracting oneself. It provides your adversaries with new opportunities to trick and play against you. ( And a quiet huff. ) Particularly good ones might even be able to sabotage your notes.

( It almost sounds wistful, and perhaps it is. She has met some truly gifted rogues, in her time. After a moment, she offers, ) If you like, I can show you a shuffle technique. Master a couple of those, and at the very least, you can awe a drunk or two.

( Mocking her own skills? A little. She knows the worth of them, and an impressive shuffle is hardly the most dramatic. ) Especially worth it with friends, in my experience.

Edited 2016-02-05 11:29 (UTC)

[ So the answer is: she reacts kindly. That's good to know, for reasons that Kitty herself can't quite put her finger on, but which she feels will be important. ]

That would be good, actually. I like the thought of maybe impressing drunks out of a few extra coins. It's a smart skill for a barmaid to invest in, don't you think?

[ She grins over at Leliana, then hands the cards back to her. And then she leans her elbows on the table, her eyes fixed on the woman's hands as she starts shuffling. ]

( Kindly, yes. Sometimes, when it suits. Today she can allow herself some kindness, between her other adventures. )

Absolutely. You must always learn how to play circumstances to your advantage.

( Holding out her hand, Leliana waits for Kitty to pass over the cards, easily taking them in one hand, and idly starting to cut the cards. Don't ask me how to describe this because that would be sadistic. She does it quick and easily, at first, before repeating the motion, slower. ) You see? At the very least, it is excellent for hand-eye coordination.

( She cuts the cards, once more, and passes half of them back to Kitty. ) Try this step, first.

I see.

[ She takes the cards back, nodding. This is a new trick for her; earlier, her difficulty with shuffling was a bit feigned, but now she really does have to consider how to do it. The first attempt is botched (it really is hard, doing this with little hands), but she scoops up her cards undaunted and unembarrassed and tries again. This time around is less elegant than it was when Leliana did it, to say the least, but - she does it successfully. And then again, more smoothly. She's a quick study.

A grin blossoms across her face - genuine pleasure in her skill, and genuine pleasure in learning. ]

Okay, got it.

You learn fast, ( Leliana observes, and she sounds pleased. The girl is sharper than she likes to let on, she suspects. Clever. The sort of forethought that is useful, Leliana almost begins to think, before cutting herself short.

Kitty is bright, yes, but a child, still. Necessity was one thing, viewing each person she meets and assessing their aptitude as tools of the Inquisition? That was another, and if there is one thing she will hold onto, it is that she is not Marjolaine. (Some days she thinks she is something are worse, far more accomplished, and it can be a source of pride or pain in equal measure.) )

Now, like so. You see? The trick is to make it seem all one motion.

( The next step, once, twice, and then she ties it together with the first. )

Are you much familiar with Diamondback? I remember it being popular in Orzammar, last I visited.

( But the number of dwarves from Orzammar on the surface is small indeed. )

[ Leliana times her question well. Kitty is able to lie pretty well: there's no flinch, no twitch of the face or falter of the voice, that gives her away when she does so. But when she's asked a question like that, all of her concentration is diverted to remembering all her past lies, remembering the details of the game, where it's played, whether or not they have it on the surface, building a new lie that indicates her status with regards to the game. And while she does that, her hands fall still, no concentration left to ensure she keeps shuffling.

(Because of course she knows how to play Diamondback. She is bloody good at Diamondback. It started out as a game played by noble hunters, which meant that it turned into a game that respectable girls play when they want to rebel, when they want to show off how adult they are. How much they disregard what's proper for their caste. There probably isn't a single dwarva girl, servant-caste to noble-caste, who hasn't at least picked up a pack of cards as some furtive symbol of their maturity and contempt for the expectations laid on them - even if, later, they submit to those expectations and marry who they're supposed to or take up the work they're supposed to.) ]

I've heard of it. But surfacers don't get too much of what's popular in Orzammar.

[ As she speaks, she turns her attention back to the shuffle; her hands start moving again. Lie invented and built. ]

Probably even less than you humans do. After all, forsaken by the Stone and all - we're not even worth associating with. Okay, here we go -

[ She tries the next step. Gets it on the first go. And she grins, genuinely pleased with and proud of herself at her success. ]

( Her hands still. Interesting, but perhaps not something to jump to conclusions from. It is a thread, however, and where Leliana finds threads she does like to follow them until they unravel and fall away from the source. )

Perhaps we can play that, on another day.

( Because of course she learned it; as if she would not, when she had Oghren's mind to pick for so long. ) I am rusty, but I would be glad to pick it back up, if the notion appeals to you.

( Not that rusty, mind. ) I have often wondered at the relationship between those dwarves who dwell on the surface and the ancestors. I remember them being so essential to life in Orzammar.

( There is a little flicker of a smile. ) VIsiting the Orzammar Shaperate was wondrous. So much lore and history... ( and yet, they had seemed so entrenched in that, in ways of being that was slowly working Orzammar and the dwarves down, stone vulnerable until the hammer and chisel of time and inevitability, and then Leliana frowns. ) My nostalgia was poorly timed.

( Which is to say that she has come to understand being a surface dwarf was not easy, was a sacrifice for some, even if the decision was made generations prior. Being reminded of that which you could no longer or had never seen? Unpleasant, at best.

But, focusing on Kitty's shuffle, Leliana nods. ) Well done. The benefit of this cut is that it maintains the order of shuffle. Done right, the three segments the deck break into at first should be maintained.

[ Kitty nods very slightly, watching her hands closely as she shuffles. She's never been to the Shaperate, of course. Never been to Orzammar. And she'll never be able to go, she expects...Because she did what dozens of other dwarves had done over the years and snuck up to the surface. Because she stood up for what was right. Confessed what she'd done, when the time came, and gotten nothing for it, saw no justice done, because they were all nothing more than a bunch of cowards.

Yeah. Of course the Shaperate is magnificent. That's all we have. Our history, and our desperate attempts to cling to it. As though we can reclaim any of that glory. How can we, when our own nostalgia makes us pathetic?

And she responds in a quiet voice. ]

Surface dwarves make an effort to move on from the past. We might be rejected by the Stone, yeah. But at least we're not ossified like they are down there.

[ A crisp one-two-three, and she completes the shuffle and then turns the deck up to inspect it. She nods, confirming, and looks up with a smile that's only a little bit dimmed from before. ]

Yeah. There. Same order.

( Well, now. That is interesting. A little something is there, in the subtle fade of her smile. She does not think Kitty a threat, but she does suspect a truth to be uncovered, and knows better than to think a young woman is totally harmless. That was part of their very danger - that they were so often underestimated. It allowed her to cut a good many throats after she had sung sweetly or rolled on sinfully expensive sheets. )

Adaptation is the key to survival, regardless of who you are or where you have found yourself. Change in this world... ( She frowns a little, as she thinks. ) It is essential. It is the only chance of making things better.

( Pausing to take a sip of her wine, Leliana lets roll on her tongue, savouring the flavour before it wets her throat and she sets the cup back down. )

Very good. ( And she gestures for Kitty to carry on, though whether she chooses to deal or carry on the shuffle is up to her. ) How long have you been with the Inquisition, now?

[ Kitty's eyes flash up to Leliana's face as the woman speaks about change, and for just a moment she looks...hungry. Because Leliana is echoing exactly what she believes, exactly what she wants more than anything else in the world - change, change for the good, change for the better. None of this stagnant clinging to the past, to the cycles of violence-and-retribution, appeasement-and-reinforcement that have ruled her people and the world for so very long. No...Change is needed. Change is crucial. But some people don't realize that.

She looks down again a moment afterwards and just says, simply: ]

Yeah. I agree.

[ She launches into the shuffle again - one more time, to make sure she has it down. As she does, she answers Leliana's question. ]

I've been with the inquisition about three months - I came in just a little while before the first Rifters showed up. Being here seemed safer than being out there. The battlefield isn't exactly a good place for someone like me, and with the current war...you never know when some neutral stretch of ground is going to turn into a battlefield, do you.

( A kindred spirit, perhaps. Young, of course, and she can only hope Kitty still holds some scrap of innocence of naivety that Leliana had long lost by the time she was Kitty's age. Of course, hope seems a foolish indulgence, some days. Perhaps it is good enough that the girl lives and has spark, has fight and initiative. All worth defending, all reasons why she wants to protect this world for all the mess that it has become. )

Not all do, ( Leliana replies mildly. ) Do not feel the need to echo my sentiments simply for my rank.

( She suspects it is not the case, but it is worth saying. There are many who are afraid of Leliana, of Sister Nightingale, and with good cause. )

Wise. ( With a nod, to approve that the shuffle was well done. It is not the priority, exactly. ) But did you come here for protection, or looking for something else? ( Arguably, coming to the Inquisition could place a soul in danger. Just look at Haven. And besides: ) Not everyone would seek out my company.

( Not all would accept an invitation from her, either, although that again could be accounted for by fear. )

[ Kitty doesn't exactly respond to that reassurance, that she doesn't need to agree with Leliana based on rank, but - it puts a wry smile on her face. No. There's little risk of Khalena Jonos, servant-caste dwarf who's never found a single noble she was willing to bow to, deferring to someone's rank. Very little risk of it. But that does make her a little curious. As she continues to shuffle, she looks up at Leliana from under her eyelashes, considering.

First, the answer to the question - an easy, practiced lie. ]

Protection. Very much protection. It might not be completely safe here, but it's better than most other places. And if any building is going to be adequately protected, it's the tavern. That's for sure.

[ And then, casually: ]

Are people really so afraid of who you are? And what you do? That sounds... [ Lonely. ] A little frustrating for you, honestly.

The Iron Bull and his Chargers do seem very fond of this place. Very well-considered.

( Her mouth quirks into a quiet smirk. )

The Nightingale is not meant to be accommodating. Ambassador Montilyet is gifted in social graces. I am... ( A moment of consideration on how to put it. She has no regrets about what she does; she cannot afford it, cannot let the doubts sparked by mercy and compassion to gain purchase, even if they try to claw their way up into her chest. They are pressed back and restrained time and time again. She abandons the prior sentence, unable to think of a satisfactory conclusion to it. )

This, ( and she indicates the cards, the wine, the tavern in one vague gesture, ) is a rare occurrence. My work comes before my concerns of what people think of me. The Inquisition, Thedas, they must always come first. There is no room for such self-indulgence.

[ Kitty can't help it: she looks up at Leliana with a smile that's equal parts sympathetic, helpless, and incredulous. Her voice is gentle enough when she says: ]

Milady, how on earth is that a self-indulgence? Even in the middle of a fight like this one, there's still room for happiness. There has to be, or else we completely shut down and go mad because the soul isn't a rock. Not even for a dwarf. [ She touches her chest briefly. ] It's a living thing. And, like living flesh, moments of rest and respite allow it a chance to heal.

[ She deals the cards, then, doling an equal number out to each of them. ]

So people are afraid of you because you stay apart, do you think?

( Innocence, after a fashion. Innocence in the hope that there is room to breathe - that is what Leliana sees when she looks at Kitty, and it is enough to draw the faintest hint of a smile. )

When so many lives rely upon our action and our vigilance... that is when it becomes indulgence. My time is sacrificed, so that lives may not be.

( And... well. )

They are afraid because I unravel secrets.

( Blunt, but true. ) Thy are afraid because I do whatever it necessary to keep the Inquisition safe and let our goals be reached, and they are afraid because I believe in change.

( But there is no need to be entirely grim, as she slides the cards towards herself and reviews her hand. ) Though keeping to oneself hardly helps, no?

I don't think it probably does help, no.

[ Kitty spreads the cards and looks at what she herself has for just a moment - before turning her eyes up towards Leliana once again. ]

But, I mean...I don't know. You know, you say you fight for the Inquisition and for Thedas. But you're the Inquisition, too. You're Thedas. I don't think it's good to be self-indulgent, or focused on luxury or acquiring things or anything like that. But I do think that kindness and mercy aren't just things you extend to others. And kindness and mercy - no qualities are more needed when we're going to be the force that reshapes the world.

[ She hesitates a moment, and then ducks her head a little bit. ]

I'm sorry. I'm lecturing you.

Not at all. Hearing more voices from within the Inquisition is exactly why I wanted to descend from the Rookery.

( Leliana allows herself something more of a smile, at that, though her gaze is directed at the cards rather than Kitty. It is what the young woman goes onto say that pulls her gaze up. She was young, that much was obvious. That thread of innocence she saw before, yes. But there is more beyond that. Leliana suspects that she has found herself in the presence of an idealist with a tender heart - a commodity that will become only more rare as this war they are fighting rages on. Mercy and kindness, she says, and it strikes a painful pang in Leliana's chest. Dorothea, even before she ascended to become Divine Justinia V, said mercy was one of Leliana's great strengths. Mercy, and compassion, and kindess worked into that.

Kindness and mercy were not easy tools to work with, and achieve what she must. You cannot kill with kindness unless you are a diplomat, and Josie was far more gifted at that than she. What Josie had dreaded about bard life was what Leliana was so good at, even if it brought her no more joy than her friend. )

Kindness and mercy, ( she echoes, brows raised a little. ) Both traits easily taken advantage of or abused.

( Not dismissive, just curious about what Kitty will say. )

Perhaps so.

[ Kitty studies Leliana's face as she speaks. She's not looking at the cards even for a second. Instead, she looks to see if what she's saying is being heard. She thinks it might be...The woman certainly looks intrigued, if nothing else. Interested. She's engaging.

It's perhaps something that seems naive on the surface. What she's saying. But Kitty is far from a naive person. The thing is - she's lived a life of violence and hatred. She's lived for fear and cruelty. And she hasn't abandoned those things because she's frightened of them, or because of guilt; no. She's abandoned them because she truly thinks they have no worth. No value. And so she answers her, voice quiet but confident: ]

But I think far more harm has been done in this world by fear of being taken advantage of than actually being taken advantage of. Trust gets abused, yes. But more often than that, evil is done when no one extends trust. When people are too frightened to offer it up. That's far more common than abusing kindness.

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fightingale - 2016-02-17 05:01 (UTC) - Expand

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I can do it with instruments,

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FINALLY STORMS BACK IN HERE sorry for keeping you waiting ;u;

kisses you gently on the cheek

senpai noticed me!!!

launches a blushing schoolgirl romance with you

soft light filters and floating rose petals EVERYWHERE

bubbles in the background, everyone's eyes shining

why don't we have any ships, tbh

aren't we working on Kitty's mad girlcrush on Leliana right now

lmaooooo kitty writing in her diary about it

DEAREST DIARY HER EYES ARE SO PRETTY.....

SO BLUE, LIKE ICE, BUT WHEN SHE IS SPLATTERED IN BLOOD THEY BECOME A BEAUTIFUL GREEN

IT'S BEAUTIFUL and creepy, mostly creepy

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