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"I want you to deliver a message to Grand Enchanter Fiona. If she doesn't make a personal appearance—which I very much doubt—, you're to identify whoever is speaking for the Libertarians and the rest of the rebels in her place and deliver it to them."
The envelope is set on the desk; unlike a great deal of official Riftwatch documentation, it bears no seal or plainly identifiable stamp. It might very well be a personal letter, save for the elaborate 'lock' folded and cut into a corner of the parchment to identify any tampering.
"How much do you know about the Mage-Templar War?"
The envelope is set on the desk; unlike a great deal of official Riftwatch documentation, it bears no seal or plainly identifiable stamp. It might very well be a personal letter, save for the elaborate 'lock' folded and cut into a corner of the parchment to identify any tampering.
"How much do you know about the Mage-Templar War?"
[It doesn't take a genius to see that there's more to the story than that. What it might be is another thing entirely; his mind darts towards several explanations, but ah, what's the use in mere speculation?]
Perhaps.
[It's a gentle sort of placeholder, not dismissing that so much as setting it aside. Maybe they would have starved, but almost assuredly that's not why things didn't work out.]
What caused her to uninvite you? That seems . . . callous, especially given your world.
[Actually, two questions:]
Your friend, his girlfriend, and you. Who were the other two?
Perhaps.
[It's a gentle sort of placeholder, not dismissing that so much as setting it aside. Maybe they would have starved, but almost assuredly that's not why things didn't work out.]
What caused her to uninvite you? That seems . . . callous, especially given your world.
[Actually, two questions:]
Your friend, his girlfriend, and you. Who were the other two?
(Abby promptly gets a look on her face. Ughgh, Mel. She really doesn't want to think about Mel if she doesn't have to. Mel is complicated for several reasons, more so than what happened right at the end of their relationship. The notion of her still sits in Abby's throat from time to time as a weird knot of guilt that's too hard to swallow around.
In the interest of clearing that question quick so she can move onto the next (she would like to talk about Lev to Fenris, actually,) she explains offhandedly:) I guess she figured out I fucked her boyfriend behind her back.
In the interest of clearing that question quick so she can move onto the next (she would like to talk about Lev to Fenris, actually,) she explains offhandedly:) I guess she figured out I fucked her boyfriend behind her back.
"Okay."
She can do that. She can do that and then join the rest of Riftwatch protesting the proposal, which is where she wanted to be in the first place. How hard could it be. How disappointed would Flint be if she took the letter out, read through it, and then put it back into another envelope to make it look like she didn't do that.
Kidding...
Unless?
"I've been reading about it." In books from their collection here in the Gallows, which may only count for a certain perspective; she's been thinking about that ever since the disastrous first conversation with Sabine. "There isn't gonna be a quiz, is there?"
She can do that. She can do that and then join the rest of Riftwatch protesting the proposal, which is where she wanted to be in the first place. How hard could it be. How disappointed would Flint be if she took the letter out, read through it, and then put it back into another envelope to make it look like she didn't do that.
Kidding...
Unless?
"I've been reading about it." In books from their collection here in the Gallows, which may only count for a certain perspective; she's been thinking about that ever since the disastrous first conversation with Sabine. "There isn't gonna be a quiz, is there?"
[He blinks just once, stark surprise on his face— honestly, half for the revelation and half for the sheer bluntness with which it was said. For a long moment they stare at each other, and oh, look at how red she's gotten . . .
Honestly? He doesn't judge. He cannot say he approves, but he doesn't know Owen and Mel and he never will, and he won't be so pretentious as to be morally outraged on their behalf. Besides: they all of them have done things they aren't necessarily proud of. It happens.
But oh, that sentence, and he frowns.]
And yet you did.
[Like, duh, but his point being:]
Perhaps you wish to speak of it . . .?
I will not say there is no shame in sleeping with someone's partner, but there are worse crimes, too.
Honestly? He doesn't judge. He cannot say he approves, but he doesn't know Owen and Mel and he never will, and he won't be so pretentious as to be morally outraged on their behalf. Besides: they all of them have done things they aren't necessarily proud of. It happens.
But oh, that sentence, and he frowns.]
And yet you did.
[Like, duh, but his point being:]
Perhaps you wish to speak of it . . .?
I will not say there is no shame in sleeping with someone's partner, but there are worse crimes, too.
(Short of getting up from the table and abruptly leaving the room there isn't much else to do but sit here and squirm for a moment. Abby looks away while she gathers her composure, one hand curled protectively around the nape of her neck; eventually it drops, to tug idly at her braid. She mumbles,) You're the first person I've said that to, (just to underscore that she really, truly, did not mean to fucking say it at all. The hell has come over her?
A pause. She has no idea whether she's saying this to save face or not but-) I didn't plan on it. He... (ururughghh no she really doesn't wanna start thinking about that night, not right now! If it isn't clear, she's mortified.
Even so, she'll try again.) We used to be together. Me and him. We were arguing about leaving Seattle and it just... happened.
A pause. She has no idea whether she's saying this to save face or not but-) I didn't plan on it. He... (ururughghh no she really doesn't wanna start thinking about that night, not right now! If it isn't clear, she's mortified.
Even so, she'll try again.) We used to be together. Me and him. We were arguing about leaving Seattle and it just... happened.
Edited 2022-07-28 04:25 (UTC)
... Okay. After a moment's pause to gather her thoughts she begins, "It started after the mage rebellion voted to leave the Chantry. Mages fled Circles, and Templars tried to force them back into the towers. I know they've tried a conclave before and it didn't go so well."
Understatement, but; he knows all of this.
Abby's arms fold succinctly across her chest; she adds, "I don't blame the mages for wanting to get out, but I'm a Rifter and I know exactly where I'm headed if the proposal goes through. I don't want to go into a Circle. Wanna be under the Chantry's thumb even less." Shrug, "That's why I was already going to Cumberland."
Understatement, but; he knows all of this.
Abby's arms fold succinctly across her chest; she adds, "I don't blame the mages for wanting to get out, but I'm a Rifter and I know exactly where I'm headed if the proposal goes through. I don't want to go into a Circle. Wanna be under the Chantry's thumb even less." Shrug, "That's why I was already going to Cumberland."
From behind that ugly old formidable desk, Flint's scrutiny of her isn't so removed from the same way—weeks earlier—he'd considered that chart book laid out across big central table of this very office. There's something measuring in it, pieces in the process of being oriented on a board. Her answer, bare bones that it is, seems to satisfy some requirement.
"Good," he says with nod, some of the sharp edge in the line of his shoulder falling away. "Should the Grand Enchanter happen to request your opinion on the matter while you're briefly in her company, I would encourage you to speak freely."
Simple enough. Though, here is the part where one might ordinarily ask, 'Any questions?'—
"That's all I have for you."
"Good," he says with nod, some of the sharp edge in the line of his shoulder falling away. "Should the Grand Enchanter happen to request your opinion on the matter while you're briefly in her company, I would encourage you to speak freely."
Simple enough. Though, here is the part where one might ordinarily ask, 'Any questions?'—
"That's all I have for you."
"Okay," she replies awkwardly, transparently relieved at having said something seemingly correct. First time she's ever talked about her own opinion on this. She hasn't asked anybody about theirs, either; Flint won't be where she starts, but she still has a question for him.
Ignoring that he's obviously dismissed her, "Do you want me to contact you when it's done?"
Ignoring that he's obviously dismissed her, "Do you want me to contact you when it's done?"
"That won't be necessary. Just see it safely and securely delivered. I'm trusting you to see that no one meddles with it, and that if Fiona asks you to carry anything back that you do the same in reverse."
No, best to be as unobstrusive about this whole affair as is possible lest someone catch wind of the thing. Had it not taken so long to arrange the various parts of the envelope's contents, he might have handed this to her in the middle of the day so as to solicit even fewer questions. But better this than to be seen by the whole company chasing her (or any other likely messenger) down on the way to the eyrie, or stuffing it in some griffon's saddlebag.
He will have to survive with this modicum of suspicion and hope for the best.
No, best to be as unobstrusive about this whole affair as is possible lest someone catch wind of the thing. Had it not taken so long to arrange the various parts of the envelope's contents, he might have handed this to her in the middle of the day so as to solicit even fewer questions. But better this than to be seen by the whole company chasing her (or any other likely messenger) down on the way to the eyrie, or stuffing it in some griffon's saddlebag.
He will have to survive with this modicum of suspicion and hope for the best.
[It isn't the time nor place, but still, some part of Fenris is quietly pleased that she'd say something like that to him. You're the first person I've said that to, and he'll realize later it wasn't so much a marker of intimacy as it was forced honesty, but still.]
I have had—
[Well.]
It is not quite the same. She was not attached to anyone at the time. But I have had evenings with a woman where such things just happened. Attraction is a powerful force. So is anger. And the two combined are . . . formidable.
[And maybe Astarion is rubbing off on him a little, for he cannot help but ask (sympathetically, but still):]
Was it worth it?
I have had—
[Well.]
It is not quite the same. She was not attached to anyone at the time. But I have had evenings with a woman where such things just happened. Attraction is a powerful force. So is anger. And the two combined are . . . formidable.
[And maybe Astarion is rubbing off on him a little, for he cannot help but ask (sympathetically, but still):]
Was it worth it?
(Abby exhales in a rush and returns to fucking with her braid, fiddling idly while he talks. What he says is true, it was... definitely a combination of lingering tension and being angry and– she supposes, deep down, what she really wanted was something, anything to be normal, like it used to be, before everything around her went to pieces.
But–) Nope. (Shaking her head, now.) It really wasn't, it just... made everything weird.
(She supposes she gave him more of the exact same false hope Santa Barbara did. Owen didn't deserve that. Her cheeks are still pink when she goes to scrub at her face, giving Fenris a little look over her empty bowl.) Can you keep that between us? Please?
But–) Nope. (Shaking her head, now.) It really wasn't, it just... made everything weird.
(She supposes she gave him more of the exact same false hope Santa Barbara did. Owen didn't deserve that. Her cheeks are still pink when she goes to scrub at her face, giving Fenris a little look over her empty bowl.) Can you keep that between us? Please?
Edited (a single word) 2022-08-01 03:14 (UTC)
Ah, so he's eliminating any possibility of this information slipping into other hands... duly noted. Abby looks at him, searching, but she doesn't ask any of her questions out loud. It's none of her business (is what he'll probably tell her, which is the truth, so).
She takes the letter off the table.
Wait, one more question. "Why aren't you coming with us?"
She takes the letter off the table.
Wait, one more question. "Why aren't you coming with us?"
"Because we're not storming Cumberland at sword point, and my presence there could easily serve to suggest otherwise. Provost Stark will be traveling with you instead. We considered him the obvious choice of representation from the Division Heads."
—Is certainly one way to describe the terse disapproval Tony had met from his peers when he'd made his intention to go along to Cumberland known. But if there is a lack of consensus in the Central Tower, then it does no good whatsoever to volunteer that information.
"Riftwatch is permitted to function as it does so long as we remember who gave us the authority to do so. I suspect a number of us have one reason or another for wishing to avoid the Divine thinking that we might be put to better use if we were drawn closer to her side."
—Is certainly one way to describe the terse disapproval Tony had met from his peers when he'd made his intention to go along to Cumberland known. But if there is a lack of consensus in the Central Tower, then it does no good whatsoever to volunteer that information.
"Riftwatch is permitted to function as it does so long as we remember who gave us the authority to do so. I suspect a number of us have one reason or another for wishing to avoid the Divine thinking that we might be put to better use if we were drawn closer to her side."
They pass each other in the hallway, and Ellie has to do a double take. It can't have been all that long since Abby got back from whatever mission she was on, but she looks... out of it. Not hurt, maybe a little pale, but healthy, just.
Just-
Out of it.
It bothers her. Ellie can't say why it does, but she's seen Abby go through some of the worst things a person can go through, and still keep on trucking.
Whatever is fucking with her now can't be something small.
Ellie puts it off until she sees her again, doubting her own unsettled mood; she's got a plate for herself from the dining hall, had planned to eat in her room and go over some more of this map shit she was working on with Flint and Mobius. Abby's either heading there or heading back, and this time, Ellie watches her.
Worse, she doesn't think Abby's even realized she's there. Which is... not ego, not really; but Ellie was once the most dangerous force of nature in Abby's life, and they always have some awareness of each other. Always.
Something is deeply wrong.
Ellie stops in the hallway, dead center, where Abby will be forced to run into her or stop, if she doesn't change course.
Just-
Out of it.
It bothers her. Ellie can't say why it does, but she's seen Abby go through some of the worst things a person can go through, and still keep on trucking.
Whatever is fucking with her now can't be something small.
Ellie puts it off until she sees her again, doubting her own unsettled mood; she's got a plate for herself from the dining hall, had planned to eat in her room and go over some more of this map shit she was working on with Flint and Mobius. Abby's either heading there or heading back, and this time, Ellie watches her.
Worse, she doesn't think Abby's even realized she's there. Which is... not ego, not really; but Ellie was once the most dangerous force of nature in Abby's life, and they always have some awareness of each other. Always.
Something is deeply wrong.
Ellie stops in the hallway, dead center, where Abby will be forced to run into her or stop, if she doesn't change course.
Ellie is half-right: something was deeply wrong, but it's over now. It's fine. Everybody in their group came back alive, against every odd, and the battle has bloodstained the edges of Abby's mind anyway. Around the Gallows, she's on autopilot, walking just to walk. Eating just to do something with her hands. She's not wholly present. Has to strain her ears to hear over what feels like rushing water, sloshing about in her brain.
She does actually bump up into Ellie in the corridor, enough that she grunts, "Shit, sorry," and takes her by the shoulders to steady her. Then, blinking, she goes, "It's you." Like that makes it okay.
Ellie's got a weird look on her face. Abby frowns and says, "What," a little self-consciously. She's really not in the mood for Ellie's particular shit right now, okay. "Do you need something?"
She does actually bump up into Ellie in the corridor, enough that she grunts, "Shit, sorry," and takes her by the shoulders to steady her. Then, blinking, she goes, "It's you." Like that makes it okay.
Ellie's got a weird look on her face. Abby frowns and says, "What," a little self-consciously. She's really not in the mood for Ellie's particular shit right now, okay. "Do you need something?"
Ellie braced for it, so she doesn't even wobble when Abby bumps into her, doesn't drop her plate. Doesn't flinch when Abby takes her shoulders to steady her, because she's ready for it.
They're this close and her skin almost doesn't prickle. There's a weird expression in Abby's eyes; she's not entirely back, even if she's gotten her attention.
Ellie had half-planned to say something witty, like how she's so distracted even a runner could have taken a chomp out of her throat, but it all kind of falls out of her head in the moment.
"Something happen to you?"
They're this close and her skin almost doesn't prickle. There's a weird expression in Abby's eyes; she's not entirely back, even if she's gotten her attention.
Ellie had half-planned to say something witty, like how she's so distracted even a runner could have taken a chomp out of her throat, but it all kind of falls out of her head in the moment.
"Something happen to you?"
Maybe the fact that it's Ellie should make it worse, like seeing a vengeful ghost might. Abby barely falters, but she does realise she's still holding her at the shoulders far too late.
Releasing her, she says, "No." Which is not untrue, not really. Physically, she's fine. A healer saw to the cuts on her arms and all that remains of the blood-letting are two, nearly identical scars up behind her elbows, currently hidden by three quarter-length sleeves. It seems only natural that she'd feel a bit out of it afterwards, right. All happened so fast.
Her voice sticks in her mouth for a moment, and she works her tongue over her teeth. "Actually," it comes out abruptly. She almost startles herself, "Can I talk to you? In private."
She isn't supposed to tell anybody about it, but Ellie isn't anybody, and she'll get it. Abby knows she will.
Releasing her, she says, "No." Which is not untrue, not really. Physically, she's fine. A healer saw to the cuts on her arms and all that remains of the blood-letting are two, nearly identical scars up behind her elbows, currently hidden by three quarter-length sleeves. It seems only natural that she'd feel a bit out of it afterwards, right. All happened so fast.
Her voice sticks in her mouth for a moment, and she works her tongue over her teeth. "Actually," it comes out abruptly. She almost startles herself, "Can I talk to you? In private."
She isn't supposed to tell anybody about it, but Ellie isn't anybody, and she'll get it. Abby knows she will.
Ellie's eyes are sharp and suspicious on Abby's face, her jaw held at an angle that says she doesn't believe her, but doesn't have the leverage to push. But then something changes in Abby's face, and Ellie physically rocks back on one foot, catching herself the way she didn't have to earlier.
"Sure," she says, her eyebrows knitting together. She takes second to shift her plate, then jerks her chin towards her room.
Abby knows where it is.
Once inside, Ellie sparks up the candle in the lamp, parks herself on her bed. Gestures to her desk chair. It's wooden, sturdy. More comfortable than it looks. Spread over the desk's surface are a few works in progress, including what looks like several references for a pirate ship, and a large sea monster.
"Sure," she says, her eyebrows knitting together. She takes second to shift her plate, then jerks her chin towards her room.
Abby knows where it is.
Once inside, Ellie sparks up the candle in the lamp, parks herself on her bed. Gestures to her desk chair. It's wooden, sturdy. More comfortable than it looks. Spread over the desk's surface are a few works in progress, including what looks like several references for a pirate ship, and a large sea monster.
... It's a weird request and they know it, about as much as they know Abby wouldn't have asked at all if she could have come up with an alternative. She wonders what could be going through Ellie's head as they make their way, not speaking; her room is quiet, and small. That's good. It helps, a bit.
A distraction in the form of Ellie's drawings presents itself before she takes her seat. Abby nudges an open book out of the way to better appreciate the arching sketch of a large, double-breasted ship-sail. Ellie's really got an eye for this kind of stuff, huh. It's cool.
Frown. She looks down at her fingers on the paper, and opens her mouth.
"Got back from Starkhaven this morning. We were raiding a Venatori encampment full of researchers and–" a thick swallow, one hand gesturing to the softness of her throat, "Ellis got stabbed right through. I saw him die."
Abby has seen a lot of people die before. It always happens faster than you think, and then it sticks with you for an indeterminate amount of time. You remember it when you're least expecting it. Of everything, a gurgling, wet death-rattle is stuck in Abby's head. Her brow knits again, and she feels weightless and strange when she adds, "But– Dickerson was with us, and he brought him back to life. With my blood."
A distraction in the form of Ellie's drawings presents itself before she takes her seat. Abby nudges an open book out of the way to better appreciate the arching sketch of a large, double-breasted ship-sail. Ellie's really got an eye for this kind of stuff, huh. It's cool.
Frown. She looks down at her fingers on the paper, and opens her mouth.
"Got back from Starkhaven this morning. We were raiding a Venatori encampment full of researchers and–" a thick swallow, one hand gesturing to the softness of her throat, "Ellis got stabbed right through. I saw him die."
Abby has seen a lot of people die before. It always happens faster than you think, and then it sticks with you for an indeterminate amount of time. You remember it when you're least expecting it. Of everything, a gurgling, wet death-rattle is stuck in Abby's head. Her brow knits again, and she feels weightless and strange when she adds, "But– Dickerson was with us, and he brought him back to life. With my blood."
It's a weird request. It's weirder circumstances.
It takes long enough for Ellie to question her own judgment in bringing Abby here to talk. Each step they take seems fucking insane, when it's really a steady continuation of what's come before. They talk, now. They get each others' perspectives, now. And what's more, they value them.
No. This fits whatever weird thing they are slowly building together.
Still. Nothing prepares Ellie for what Abby says. Ellis, dead- it takes a second to slam through her brain, the shock and grief of a friend not coming home, something that they've both been through countless times-
Except that she saw him walk in with the others. She saw him alive and breathing.
The air presses out of her lungs in a rush.
"What the fuck?" she whispers. It's caught between horror and disgust and naked relief.
And then:
"Is he okay?"
It takes long enough for Ellie to question her own judgment in bringing Abby here to talk. Each step they take seems fucking insane, when it's really a steady continuation of what's come before. They talk, now. They get each others' perspectives, now. And what's more, they value them.
No. This fits whatever weird thing they are slowly building together.
Still. Nothing prepares Ellie for what Abby says. Ellis, dead- it takes a second to slam through her brain, the shock and grief of a friend not coming home, something that they've both been through countless times-
Except that she saw him walk in with the others. She saw him alive and breathing.
The air presses out of her lungs in a rush.
"What the fuck?" she whispers. It's caught between horror and disgust and naked relief.
And then:
"Is he okay?"
Abby, looking at him, grunts with no clear feeling behind it. Makes sense.
She wants to ask if a significant rifter presence at the Conclave will tug upon the Divine's curiousity– but what's the point in knowing the answer. Flint probably doesn't (realistically, how could he), and Abby is going to go no matter what that answer actually is– so she pockets the letter.
"Okay. Talk to you later," will be her parting remark instead.
She wants to ask if a significant rifter presence at the Conclave will tug upon the Divine's curiousity– but what's the point in knowing the answer. Flint probably doesn't (realistically, how could he), and Abby is going to go no matter what that answer actually is– so she pockets the letter.
"Okay. Talk to you later," will be her parting remark instead.
Hoarsely, "Yeah. He's fine."
Maybe that's what fucked her up upon closer consideration. Never got someone back from death before. No sane version of someone, anyway. Ellie's expression mingles perfectly with what Abby is feeling, and the eerie ringing in her ears. She clasps her hands tightly between her knees.
"I think he was dead for five minutes, right at the end of the whole thing. Somebody caught him up in a spell and he couldn't get out of it in time." Not before the wet shlock of a blade, plunging into skin. Abby's expression shutters, disturbed. She swallows. "I felt his heart start again."
Because he was under her hands. Because she was holding the tatters of his throat together, while Dickerson worked.
Maybe that's what fucked her up upon closer consideration. Never got someone back from death before. No sane version of someone, anyway. Ellie's expression mingles perfectly with what Abby is feeling, and the eerie ringing in her ears. She clasps her hands tightly between her knees.
"I think he was dead for five minutes, right at the end of the whole thing. Somebody caught him up in a spell and he couldn't get out of it in time." Not before the wet shlock of a blade, plunging into skin. Abby's expression shutters, disturbed. She swallows. "I felt his heart start again."
Because he was under her hands. Because she was holding the tatters of his throat together, while Dickerson worked.
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