Good. Where and when?
[If the punctures in the Veil have any ability for sensation to travel through time, there is a past version of himself feeling some inexplicable pang of distaste for the thought Flint has now: 'Thank fuck Charles Vane is around to knock down doors.'
They've a lot of ground to cover and it's better shared between them.]
[If the punctures in the Veil have any ability for sensation to travel through time, there is a past version of himself feeling some inexplicable pang of distaste for the thought Flint has now: 'Thank fuck Charles Vane is around to knock down doors.'
They've a lot of ground to cover and it's better shared between them.]
after hearing back from max are they on the boat if so action
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hornswoggle
2018-08-17 12:31 am (UTC)(link)
So, we have a slight problem.
[ "We" is likely an overstatement. ]
It seems Max is trapped in Minrathous, at the moment.
[ "We" is likely an overstatement. ]
It seems Max is trapped in Minrathous, at the moment.
Trapped-- [There's a compass on the table and a divider in his hand, a chart of the miscellaneous island leading from the Waking Sea to the Amaranthine Ocean under the divider's sharpened points. He pauses walking them along the map, squinting at Silver just inside the door of the cabin as if he's said something in a different language.
For a moment.]
What do you mean trapped?
For a moment.]
What do you mean trapped?
Think this would be before beleth's message about the missing headcount??? Idk
katabasis
- 2018-08-26 07:03 (UTC) - ExpandThere isn't a great deal of time between arrival and departure.
The second of those, rather; the second secretive hike across half the Imperium with a team not wholly equipped for task. It's been shake off the Sister's robes, shovel the papers from her desk, and start again. Probably, her husband is alive. Possibly, her troops and wards and enemies and dog are. But they're not who she goes to see.
Radonis was giving as any man wanted dead — if the intelligence has become dated as his rule, it's more than the precious nothing they owned before. Max's brief contact had been a boon; it wouldn't have gotten them out of the Palace again alive. She leaves the suite directly, smoothes the fold of a borrowed coat over the royal blood tucked within,
And goes in search of those who'd drink it from vein.
She doesn't announce her arrival, though it's hardly inconspicuous: Her face is known here, and word travels quickest in Kirkwall upon the back of a coin. (Whether Flint's any to spare may be a subject for debate.) She'll wait if she has to, hands folded behind her back; she'd prefer not to wait long.
"Captain,"
He's shorter than expected.
The second of those, rather; the second secretive hike across half the Imperium with a team not wholly equipped for task. It's been shake off the Sister's robes, shovel the papers from her desk, and start again. Probably, her husband is alive. Possibly, her troops and wards and enemies and dog are. But they're not who she goes to see.
Radonis was giving as any man wanted dead — if the intelligence has become dated as his rule, it's more than the precious nothing they owned before. Max's brief contact had been a boon; it wouldn't have gotten them out of the Palace again alive. She leaves the suite directly, smoothes the fold of a borrowed coat over the royal blood tucked within,
And goes in search of those who'd drink it from vein.
She doesn't announce her arrival, though it's hardly inconspicuous: Her face is known here, and word travels quickest in Kirkwall upon the back of a coin. (Whether Flint's any to spare may be a subject for debate.) She'll wait if she has to, hands folded behind her back; she'd prefer not to wait long.
"Captain,"
He's shorter than expected.
He doesn't make her stand long.
When the Inquisition had sent its first delegation to Tevinter at the Archon's invitation, he'd watched them go and paid a Kirkwall girl with a dirty face and staring eyes to name everyone she knew as they passed. Max might have word to send back during the trip, but he'd had work of his own to do. Knowing who was away had seemed as important as knowing who he might capture in conversation during their absence. That had been the rationale, anyway. It'd had seemed vital at the time - as if he knew who was going into the Imperium, he might guess at their actions there.
That might as well have been an age ago, for all the good it's done.
He takes just long enough to swallow his surprise, to put away a few papers, to close a few books, and is standing when she's seen in by some hangdog Walrus man. He's sullen enough about it that Flint doesn't dare take the opportunity to send him on the errand he needs doing. The last thing he needs in front of this particular company is one of his crew dragging their fucking heels over an order.
"Commander." Did Ambassador Amsel send her? The Provost? Araceli? Or maybe someone had let slip to Radonis that he'd narrowly escape a second knife between his ribs and he'd expressed his concern directly. Some of the suspicion must show in Flint's face despite every effort otherwise. "You've come out of your way."
When the Inquisition had sent its first delegation to Tevinter at the Archon's invitation, he'd watched them go and paid a Kirkwall girl with a dirty face and staring eyes to name everyone she knew as they passed. Max might have word to send back during the trip, but he'd had work of his own to do. Knowing who was away had seemed as important as knowing who he might capture in conversation during their absence. That had been the rationale, anyway. It'd had seemed vital at the time - as if he knew who was going into the Imperium, he might guess at their actions there.
That might as well have been an age ago, for all the good it's done.
He takes just long enough to swallow his surprise, to put away a few papers, to close a few books, and is standing when she's seen in by some hangdog Walrus man. He's sullen enough about it that Flint doesn't dare take the opportunity to send him on the errand he needs doing. The last thing he needs in front of this particular company is one of his crew dragging their fucking heels over an order.
"Commander." Did Ambassador Amsel send her? The Provost? Araceli? Or maybe someone had let slip to Radonis that he'd narrowly escape a second knife between his ribs and he'd expressed his concern directly. Some of the suspicion must show in Flint's face despite every effort otherwise. "You've come out of your way."
Flint.
[Nikos, approaching abruptly in a Kirkwall alley, smells like rum, because he has been drinking cheap rum all afternoon. His fucking brother has ruined his ability to frequent over half the taverns in Kirkwall. Nikos lacked discernment even before limitations were imposed upon him by his resemblance to Kostos. He is happy to sit somewhere and drink like the drunk he is, watching, blearily, for Captain Flint.
Flint cuts a recognizable figure. Nikos saw the man first on the Walrus, during the trip back from Miranthous. Saw him from a distance, because Nikos doesn't get friendly even with someone who looks like they might invite friendliness, which Flint did and does not.
He appears, here, like a shadow that has been soaked in rum. Dark clothes, mismatched blacks in various states of wear and discoloration. Experienced enough at his vice not to stumble or slur.]
A message for you.
[Nikos, approaching abruptly in a Kirkwall alley, smells like rum, because he has been drinking cheap rum all afternoon. His fucking brother has ruined his ability to frequent over half the taverns in Kirkwall. Nikos lacked discernment even before limitations were imposed upon him by his resemblance to Kostos. He is happy to sit somewhere and drink like the drunk he is, watching, blearily, for Captain Flint.
Flint cuts a recognizable figure. Nikos saw the man first on the Walrus, during the trip back from Miranthous. Saw him from a distance, because Nikos doesn't get friendly even with someone who looks like they might invite friendliness, which Flint did and does not.
He appears, here, like a shadow that has been soaked in rum. Dark clothes, mismatched blacks in various states of wear and discoloration. Experienced enough at his vice not to stumble or slur.]
A message for you.
[It's the exact kind of thing someone might say in the precise sort of place before trying to put a dagger between the ribs, so it would probably be excusable for Flint's hand to float toward the heavy knife in his belt. But he either doesn't get that far or the smell of Nikos is enough to convince him he could probably outwit the man's arm given the need. He draws up in the alley, casts a glance behind him to make sure there isn't some second, less rum-soaked accomplice at his flank, and only belated recognizes the man's face.
And promptly links the pieces together: Right. The shit heel.
(He and John Silver share notes, you see. Which is probably for the best as otherwise there's no guarantee Flint would have bothered to fix Nikos's face in even the narrowest corner of his memory.)]
Yeah?
[Said like 'Well, what the fuck is it?']
And promptly links the pieces together: Right. The shit heel.
(He and John Silver share notes, you see. Which is probably for the best as otherwise there's no guarantee Flint would have bothered to fix Nikos's face in even the narrowest corner of his memory.)]
Yeah?
[Said like 'Well, what the fuck is it?']
guess who lost the notif for this. sorry for being a monster
katabasis
- 2018-10-16 19:54 (UTC) - Expandtagging back is the start of your redemption arc congrats
exsecutus
- 2018-10-17 19:01 (UTC) - Expand[Oh for-- he'd outsourced this for a reason. The slightest tinge of weary irritation reaches his voice, but no more:]
You're mistaken. We're looking for an accountant - someone strictly to do the book keeping. You're the woman with the glaive; is that right?
[To say he'd been listening in to Silver's attempts at recruiting is an understatement.]
You're mistaken. We're looking for an accountant - someone strictly to do the book keeping. You're the woman with the glaive; is that right?
[To say he'd been listening in to Silver's attempts at recruiting is an understatement.]
Araceli's asked me to accompany her to Antiva to negotiate the release of one of their contacts.
[ however... ]
The point of it all is to come out with stronger to ties to the Qunari. [ lol ] But I'd like to bring at least one of the men to send back if I come up with anything more interesting.
[ however... ]
The point of it all is to come out with stronger to ties to the Qunari. [ lol ] But I'd like to bring at least one of the men to send back if I come up with anything more interesting.
I was under the impression providing assistance is what I was there for, Ambassador.
[Which is a dick way to say 'No thanks necessary,' but you can't have everything.]
How was the Lady Pentaghast when you last saw her?
[Not pleased with being blackmailed, would be his guess.]
[Which is a dick way to say 'No thanks necessary,' but you can't have everything.]
How was the Lady Pentaghast when you last saw her?
[Not pleased with being blackmailed, would be his guess.]
Edited 2018-11-12 23:51 (UTC)
Captain Flint. I was referred to you by John Silver, for the work of accounts, if you still have need. He said to speak with you.
Ah. [That 'ah' speaks volumes. Ah, she's caught him in the middle of something. Ah, he nearly forgot about this matter entirely given the drama of the recent weeks. Ah, he's trying to remember her name. Did she ever say it? Fuck if he can recall.]
I take it you're still interested in the work?
I take it you're still interested in the work?
[ When Flint wakes, he'll find that he's received a terribly mysterious invitation to an exclusive card game. Unknown to him, a stranger (terrible, mysterious) will also attend.
Flint doesn't have to actually accept the invitation. Not intentionally. Should he ignore or otherwise attempt to circumvent its summons, a chain of coincidences (terrible, mysterious, you get it by now) and well-timed accidents will conspire to see him there.
The invitation is beautifully calligraphed, and includes a small gold-wax candle to present at the door. The game takes place in the basement of one of the cheaper Hightown houses, and already hosts a smattering of gamblers lounging before the main event. Each of them has brought a candle of their own, lit and scattered about the room.
Then everyone leaves — except for the bartender. And a violinist. Both regretfully explain that the door is locked from the outside, and that the four of them have no choice but to have a lovely dinner.
In exchange, the bartender (an enormous vashoth) will not break Kostos' legs. Flint's legs are, of course, Flint's own responsibility.
OOC Note: Kostos is played by MJ. Feel free to play out a thread, handwave things, or ignore it entirely, but check with each other first! ❤ ]
Flint doesn't have to actually accept the invitation. Not intentionally. Should he ignore or otherwise attempt to circumvent its summons, a chain of coincidences (terrible, mysterious, you get it by now) and well-timed accidents will conspire to see him there.
The invitation is beautifully calligraphed, and includes a small gold-wax candle to present at the door. The game takes place in the basement of one of the cheaper Hightown houses, and already hosts a smattering of gamblers lounging before the main event. Each of them has brought a candle of their own, lit and scattered about the room.
Then everyone leaves — except for the bartender. And a violinist. Both regretfully explain that the door is locked from the outside, and that the four of them have no choice but to have a lovely dinner.
In exchange, the bartender (an enormous vashoth) will not break Kostos' legs. Flint's legs are, of course, Flint's own responsibility.
OOC Note: Kostos is played by MJ. Feel free to play out a thread, handwave things, or ignore it entirely, but check with each other first! ❤ ]
Edited 2019-02-13 06:50 (UTC)
[ Kitty sounds very irritable. ]
Thought you ought to know - Benedict Artimaeus has decided to stay in Tevinter so he can kiss his lousy mother's Corypheus-loving -
[ She stops herself, because, well, technically this is a report to a department head and all that. So, more properly: ]
Benedict's family's allied with Corypheus. And he's back with them.
Thought you ought to know - Benedict Artimaeus has decided to stay in Tevinter so he can kiss his lousy mother's Corypheus-loving -
[ She stops herself, because, well, technically this is a report to a department head and all that. So, more properly: ]
Benedict's family's allied with Corypheus. And he's back with them.
Commander. If I might have a moment.
[ Assuming the cacophony of an ongoing naval battle doesn't greet him— ]
There has been some discussion of late, given the recent change in our relationship with the Chantry, of our continued employment of magebane among our forces. I wondered if I might ask your thoughts on the subject.
[ Assuming the cacophony of an ongoing naval battle doesn't greet him— ]
There has been some discussion of late, given the recent change in our relationship with the Chantry, of our continued employment of magebane among our forces. I wondered if I might ask your thoughts on the subject.
Did I send the son of a Tevinter magister under the supervision of a sixteen year old with a bleeding heart, both of whom carry rift shards, off to go purchase his favorite slave?
[A short, sharp noise that falls somewhere between Excuse me? and Good joke.]
[A short, sharp noise that falls somewhere between Excuse me? and Good joke.]
"Right where I left you, I see," says John, in lieu of a proper greeting.
Stood in the doorway of Flint's office, John observes the tableau (papers, ink, books, cracked window, Flint) and feels some of the lingering discomfort he'd carried back with him dissipate. The ballroom, masks and strains of Merry Widow of Wycome are blessedly far removed from this setting.
"Anything exciting occur in my absence?"
Stood in the doorway of Flint's office, John observes the tableau (papers, ink, books, cracked window, Flint) and feels some of the lingering discomfort he'd carried back with him dissipate. The ballroom, masks and strains of Merry Widow of Wycome are blessedly far removed from this setting.
"Anything exciting occur in my absence?"
The work - namely, making notes in reference to a certain book of maps opened to a particular cross section of Nevarra - pauses. Flint's attention rises from it. You, he thinks and doesn't say, look as if you were dragged behind a cart back from Ostwick.
"Is Hounsford dead?"
"Is Hounsford dead?"
[Somewhere in the background, the sound of shouting. A ship is being refit - cabling tarred, seams resealed, sails worn thin under summer heat reinforced. Winter in the Waking Sea, even cut by the shelter of a harbor, is hard on things.]
If you like. I assume you're supplying the bottle.
If you like. I assume you're supplying the bottle.
[ They haven't been formally introduced beyond Flint being the one to pass down the order that sent Lino and Thor to deal with a certain amphibious geyser in High Town, and now seems as good a time as any to rectify that.
Even if the door is open, even if it's a superfluous display, the Antivan raps his knuckle twice on the heavy wooden door. ]
Even if the door is open, even if it's a superfluous display, the Antivan raps his knuckle twice on the heavy wooden door. ]
[The door is not open. Regardless, the call of 'Enter' manages to be loud enough to hear through it.
The man in question is standing over a large table at the center of the room. He is pouring over a series of maps, and clearly is expecting someone else as he begins to say--]
You were right. It would be better to take the route through--
[And then stops, when he looks up and sees someone considerably larger in every direction from who he'd anticipated. Flint's open expression narrows.]
Can I help you?
The man in question is standing over a large table at the center of the room. He is pouring over a series of maps, and clearly is expecting someone else as he begins to say--]
You were right. It would be better to take the route through--
[And then stops, when he looks up and sees someone considerably larger in every direction from who he'd anticipated. Flint's open expression narrows.]
Can I help you?
It's open. [It's a strangely muffled sound, explained away by the fact that the office beyond is empty (of people, anyway) and the doorway to the adjoining room is standing open.]
In here.
['In here' is a strangely barren room, furnished with a bed that clearly seen more use as a bookshelf and a chair near one of the windows and very little else. Flint is in the chair, one foot up on the edge of an open trunk and a book open in his lap.]
In here.
['In here' is a strangely barren room, furnished with a bed that clearly seen more use as a bookshelf and a chair near one of the windows and very little else. Flint is in the chair, one foot up on the edge of an open trunk and a book open in his lap.]
[ Sounding very aggrieved: ]
Did you send that woman my way? Eshal?
Did you send that woman my way? Eshal?
[ The hall is empty. The floor, near to it. The tower. Absence is what caught in his mind to begin with, an empty room to put this question that keeps rocking to and fro across old floorboards, that he won't hang on Isaac's bloodied head, nor drop into Leander's waiting void. That he can't seem to quiet.
It's empty, but he checks first, before he finds his way into Flint's office, lets the heavy door close silent at his back, and asks, ]
Do you think-- [ There's no hello. ] that it would attract more suspicion if I went back, or if I didn't?
It's empty, but he checks first, before he finds his way into Flint's office, lets the heavy door close silent at his back, and asks, ]
Do you think-- [ There's no hello. ] that it would attract more suspicion if I went back, or if I didn't?
[There is a wide table at the center of the room - the dumping ground for reports in the midst of being processed, for annotated maps, and for stacks of chart books in such perpetual consultation that they're never return to their shelves. Today, the maps of Nevarra (which have been there for weeks, tucked under campaign notes on Orlais and intelligence on the trade bound for Val Chevin) lay on top of everything, weighted down with whatever is capable and easy to hand: a book, a candle burning and melting onto the plate beneath it, a paperweight in the shape of a dog.
Flint looks up from his war table in miniature. If he's surprised by the intrusion, he doesn't show it.]
Lock the door behind you. [With that clarified--] I imagine it would depend on what you intended to do when you got there.
Flint looks up from his war table in miniature. If he's surprised by the intrusion, he doesn't show it.]
Lock the door behind you. [With that clarified--] I imagine it would depend on what you intended to do when you got there.
Page 1 of 4