bakerstreet | over a drink

I feel you are completely correct.

[The only thing that keeps him from asking Davrin his thoughts on the matter is the fact that if anything goes wrong, they'd be powerless to assist. He does not wish to think about how they'd have to watch and do nothing.

...unless Spite could make a bridge over. Perhaps if they include Lucanis in the planning it was possible. He'll mull it over.]

We truly live in a time of the impossible becoming possible, don't we. Imagine, griffons. A Dwarf who can hear the stone again. Manfred as my apprentice.

And now, not an impossibility but still something lovely, we're out on a beautiful, still night, looking for a drink together.

[There are still joys and marvels in this world. All is not lost, nor overshadowed, even with as large as the shadows of the gods are.]

The lights up ahead look a little cozier than most. What do you think?

( emmrich’s words draw a smile from her, small and sincere; here they are, living in interesting times. and it’s big, and terrifying, and they’d better not lose the last great hope of the griffons in a fade abyss, but— they are living in it. he’s right.

there is loveliness to be had. )

As long as you don’t ask when, I might have been there once before, ( in another life, as a student often sighed about if only she’d apply herself with as much vigor to her studies—, ) and I might happen to know the owner well enough we might even get a discount on the top shelf.

( goodwill and saving the world, and all that. imagine how far she’s come since then. )

Plush seats, too, ( she adds.

and private. )

Edited 2024-11-19 07:34 (UTC)

Once,

[he echoes, very amused,]

and through that you know the owner that well.

[There's such a story behind that and Emmrich is incredibly tempted to ask anyway. Then again, she'd only said not to ask when, not to ask no questions.

The place looks incredibly comfortable, soft seats, angled for closeness and to keep anyone from being able to watch anyone else. It seems the perfect place to hide away from the world for a time.

Emmrich leads them about midway in, picking a place that has a view of the door without being in direct line of sight and scoots in first.]

You can leave out when, but now I need to hear more.

( signaling one of the servers on the way — who absolutely, if he’s clocking it, recognises her — athénaïs is smiling as she shrugs her coat off to join him, rueful. the seats are as plush as promised and she relaxes into the cushioned booth, shirtsleeves already rolled up over mostly pale arms. )

It was one of those, last stop of a long night kind of nights.

( she assumes, clearly, that he’s familiar with the type; their fellows might imagine him as dry as the dead are dusty, but athénaïs is not convinced in the slightest, )

And I had been drinking. We were shooting this Antivan liquor straight that I half thought even at the time was just some kind of horrendous Crow poison— ( but at that point in the evening, who’s going to be a pussy and turn it down? ) I’d made several of those friends, you know, lifelong for at least a week. And the place was closing, we were just hours from sun up, but the owner was drinking with us, so,

( fuck closing time. she is not remembered exactly the same by all the servers who were there, probably. )

We get to talking, he finds out who I’m with, ( the mourn watch, specifically. )

I can't even imagine what you're describing,

[he says deadpan at her pause after the first description. Emmrich had been a student once. True, his grades and attendance had been perfect, but that left two entire nights a week to be foolish and young.

From there he listens, nodding along knowingly in a way that would likely break Harding, Bellara, and probably Taash.]

And not, I take it, your brand new sworn brethren. Had someone actually imbibed a horrendous Crow poison?

No. Well, maybe, ( hedging, ) but that wasn’t the memorable part. No, he—

( not all of the story is funny. after a moment, glancing up as a server approaches with a bottle and two glasses, snaking a glass with her fingertips and considering it for a moment before she takes over pouring herself with a careless, ) Ah, leave the bottle,

( but, her story. back to her story. )

Not everyone can afford, you know, the services of our brethren or ourselves.

( the mourn watch, a particular elite; the mortalitasi already, broadly, unique among nevarran mages. if athénaïs hadn’t come into their care as a girl, she might never have enjoyed the prospect of being interred within the necropolis at all; maker knows, she’s never looked for her family there. )

He’d lost someone. A few years back, by that point, but he’d wanted to do the thing proper. Out of his means. And he’d found someone who would, but it was...not right. On the cheap, a necromancer but not of our order— some chancer, making coin. It’d gone wrong. And I was only a— ( student, definitely, except she’s already said not to ask when, so: )

I wasn’t operating with sanction, ( she settles on, diplomatically, ) when I told him I could help. And in retrospect, mad of me to go to a strange man’s basement after that many drinks.

[The mood instantly sobers. He's very aware of how many can afford little, especially when it comes to final caretaking. There also is no work required to know the true timeline here. She's not being subtle... but she doesn't need to be.]

Generally not the wisest of choices,

[Emmrich agrees, carefully pouring himself a small amount of the drink to start. The writing isn't Antivan so at least it's probably not Crow poison either.]

But you are here to tell the story.

( his mood sobers; hers is still lingering in what had, eventually, become a warmer memory than not. she leans on an elbow, tilting her glass against the table, taking a moment to taste the vintage—

good grief. she hopes she’s getting a discount on this, it tastes expensive. )

I am. And it was — exactly what he’d said. He hadn’t known what to do, so he’d just boarded him in and hoped for the best. Which turned out to be me, absolutely plastered, full of youth and confidence. I know, I know,

( she’s young, yet. but thirty-five feels a lot different than mumblemumbleteen had, maker knows. )

It was a haunting, effectively. Like we’ve been dealing with, lately, I suppose that brought it to mind as well. I was too green to know better than to try it, and miracle of miracles... ( she spreads her hands. )

I told my professors he’d been mislaid. Got two strapping lads to come back a week later and help me ‘re-inter‘ him with due ceremony. He, ( the owner, this time, she means, ) visits when he can.

[Emmrich shakes his head. Whomever had been in charge of her introductory classes had failed her terribly by not imparting the vast array of dangers a haunting posed to the untrained. She's still here, thank the Maker, but it would have been so easy for things to go so wrong there.]

That was well and kindly done,

[Is what he says, because it's true and she's not the only one who was rash while still a student. How could he judge?

Emmrich lifts his glass toward hers.]

To the confidence of the ones who were absolutely, unquestionably adults and not still students?

[His smile is back. It's too good an opening for teasing to not take.]

( athénaïs laughs, clinking her glass against his— )

To my misspent adulthood, ( she says, warmly, before she drinks.

arguably, that continues apace. it wasn’t her caution or restraint that brought her to the notice of varric tethras, and she certainly hasn’t been wringing her hands about leaping bodily into every fray presented to her. sure, it’d be nice to have a few less fronts to this war, but.

but that’s not the deal. she exhales, not quite a sigh. )

All this, ( after a moment, ) it’s not just on my shoulders. I’m not, you know, insensible to that.

[He took a drink as well, raising an eyebrow a moment later as he realizes quite how much of an improvement this is over their last drink. Can she pay for this? Will he need to hope she steps away to use the facilities so he can pay instead? Maybe if she gets tipsy he can simply misdirect her as he covers.

But that's a thought to pursue about an hour from now, because her almost-sigh brings him right back to the current moment.]

I didn't think you were. But I do know that the focus lands on you, and that can be a heavy weight. The larger choices, as well. The rest of the team can, will, and do weigh in, but the call is not ours.

[He shakes his head.]

Which is a change that I'm not entirely used to yet. I haven't had to yield to someone else's decisions in a while, but you're clearly taking the information we get into account so I'm not complaining.

( she tilts her glass toward him— )

I didn’t know I was going to be in charge when I signed up, ( is rueful. ) I couldn’t do it without any of you, and I mean that.

( their expertise, opinions, capability, support; they’re all part of the alchemy that’s (fucking miraculously) got them this far. what kind of idiot would she be, not to take advantage of the resources at her disposal? not to listen to them, when they know more than she does? if she’d met emmrich volkarin any other way she’d be soaking up every ounce of his knowledge he proved willing to share, regardless, maker knows.

but that might not be a context in which she could share an eyewateringly expensive bottle with him, and she thinks for a moment that not every single part of this experience is as dire as all that. )

[She's never opened that particular conversational door and Emmrich wonders if he should carefully pry. Grief is a tricky, complicated thing, but she knows that as well as him.

Emmrich will let the moment pass, and hope that one day she opens the door for certain. As long as she knows he's here for her that must be enough for now.]

I am, oddly enough, glad to be here. I trust this team, I trust you, and, personally, it's nice to be part of a group that is making an active difference.

[It would be comfortable to hide in the Necropolis, or relatively safe, and to pretend that others could handle the issue. He has no doubt many feel that way. But it's important to protect what matters, and he's grateful he has the opportunity.]

It's also... interesting... to instruct people who are not from the Necropolis in matters of death and the spirits.

( I’ve never been able to leave well enough alone, she nearly says, but he carries on and — probably that’s obvious from knowing her even ten minutes, anyway. does it need saying? varric hadn’t picked her up just fucking around, after all.

(and what she’d been in the middle of, well, that’s another story. for another bottle, maybe, or never.) )

I think we’re being a bit spoiled, ( she suggests, wryly. ) I know it might not seem that way, but they’re— refreshingly willing to listen.

( accusations of corpsebothering notwithstanding. or, well, including those; he might have the edge on her here, in the necropolis and nevarra proper, but she’s spent more time outside of both than he has, she’s almost certain. and without a title like professor to assert some authority, usually preferring to keep specifically being of the mourn watch under her hat in the circumstances it most often might come up.

she takes a sip, observes: )

I think to some, there’s too much blood in our magic to trust.

( that there is not, in fact, blood in their magic— yes. but what is a corpse if not a great deal of it? it isn’t the shape of everyone’s suspicion or distaste, but it’s often there. )

[He exhales, shaking his head.]

I wish people were more willing to listen and learn. What we do is so far from blood magic!

[Yes, corpses meant blood, but they weren't using the blood. It and the flesh were extraneous once the original user was done with the body. Unfortunately, it was easy to fear what was unknown, and a vast majority of the work they do is unseen by outsiders.]

It feels like a small ask when you're in Nevarra, but outside of it and Tevinter even asking people to not be afraid of magic is a task.

[And Tevinter has its own flaws. Significant ones. Including actually using blood magic.]

On paper our group might in fact be one of the most confusing and frightening ones there are. Two necromancers, a mage from Tevinter, a famed assassin, and so on.

[A famed, possessed assassin, a fire-breathing qunari, a magical Dwarf, but some things should not be spoken of outside of the Lighthouse. Bellara and Davrin might well be the only ones in the party whose nature wouldn't be worrying to some, save for the discovery of where Elves came from.]

We are perhaps quite spoiled.

[And not just because he's here drinking a very fine wine in a comfortable seat with company he wouldn't trade for anyone else.]

Edited 2024-11-24 01:42 (UTC)

( beneath the table, athénaïs bumps her knee against emmrich’s thigh— )

And we’re all learning so much about each other, so— it’s possible. Well, maybe not you and I, ( she allows. and then: ) Well, not in the same way, ( a bit more hastily, before he can think she means she’s paid him not a bit of heed this whole time. she laughs, mostly at herself, into her glass, )

I mean, we already know not to be afraid of one another.

( it rather frees them up to be interested in other things. )

[He laughs at the bump and hasty stumbling -- not at her, but more with her because he understands how easy it is to only hear what one is saying after it's already spoken.]

I'd like to believe we're not afraid of each other.

[This tavern is far more private than most and Emmrich's feeling relaxed. They're even already rather close to each other so no time seems more fitting than now to put an arm around her shoulders.]

And I do hope we're not learning about others in the same way.

[Flirtation everywhere is perfectly understandable. The world is full of people who are fun to flirt with, and were he younger he would still be doing the same. Which truly begs the question of why she started flirting in his direction to begin with. Not that he's complaining. Or daring to ask said question.]

( if he had any reservations about his welcome, the slightly boneless way she sinks into the side of him must be reassuring; it can’t entirely be the drink. she’s holding hers quite well, all things (and sizes) being equal. her free hand, between them, settles on his knee, and the necessity of tipping her head back against his shoulder to smile at him is not unpleasant at all.

she had, it must be said, been awfully free with her flirtatious attention in the early days of gathering their companions to the lighthouse. a sly remark, a sidelong look, a raised eyebrow. playful, more play than intent, but—

that’s dropped off, increasingly, and the way she holds emmrich’s gaze longer than most hasn’t. seeks him out more regularly; occupies his time, endeavouring to occupy his mind. she can often be found nearby him, even leaving him entirely to his own devices, to the point where one might as well check his balcony first. and now she is smiling, relaxed, )

I think there are things we don’t need to share with them, ( she says, arch, ) necessarily.

[His smile changes from its usual warmth to something softer and stronger as she fits herself to him and rests her hand there. Of late there's been much more of a charge to her attention, something that he's been starting to think edges into intention and he's not averse in the least.

There's a distraction to his thoughts these days, and a near-constant awareness of where she is because he wants her company more than is platonic. Thankfully she seems to feel similarly. Thankfully, and bewilderingly.]

Mm, perhaps not.

[Obviously more than perhaps. He sets down his glass so he can rest his hand over hers on his leg and thread their fingers together.]

I feel no shame in being selfish in this one area.

[It's a delicate balance, this thing that's blooming between them. There isn't advantage to be taken, though sometimes it feels like he's at risk of doing so none the less. It makes his moves more careful and cautious.]

May I say I'm glad we chose to relocate? This is far nicer than I'd thought this evening could be.

( with his fingers threaded through hers, his rings are now all in remarkably easy reach— she slides her thumb against the nearest, loosest one, rolling it in a slow circle around his finger. it’s too automatic to be the first time it’s ever occurred to her, )

To tell you the truth, ( she says, wry, ) it’s a lot lovelier than what I was envisioning when I made the remark.

( who among them has never wanted to get blackout drunk and fuck a stranger about their problems. just her? cool, cool, cool.

well— she’s never preferred a stranger, to be fair. the night is young and she’s in a better mood than she was before. )

I’m glad, too. It almost feels— every minute that’s not chasing down the next thing feels stolen back.

[He watches with a mix of amusement and bemusement as she plays with one of his rings. There'd been not a single shred of hesitation there. Granted, he's not known for having a temper or being particularly volatile, but that takes unexpected boldness.

He is... not objecting.

Especially as she seems to be enjoying the evening the way he is.]

It does, doesn't it. There's a great deal of pressure, but there are some moments when we can do nothing and it's almost a waste to not enjoy them. We must take care of ourselves as we help take care of the world.

[He is not as bold as her. He is unsure about what she wants or how much she means her flirtation, and so his responding move is a gentle brush of her hair off her shoulder where he's holding her. It's a smaller, more subtle gesture that could as easily be ignored as responded to.]

( it must be said:

she has an absolutely absurd amount of hair. so many fine violet strands as to make up a not insignificant portion of her total weight; hair by the handful, constantly worn loose mostly because she’d never mastered anything else and never been as interested in devoting time to that as all of the other interesting things she could be doing with her time. she’s hit as many enemies in the face with her hair as with her blade or orb, but she must be doing something right for how soft it feels beneath his fingers.

it is a subtler gesture than hers, but that doesn’t mean she misses it. athénaïs is so conscious of her personal space at any given time — even as she’s making free with someone else’s — and that hyper-awareness serves her well, her gaze settling on him thoughtfully as her hand settles, linking their fingers and tucking hers beneath his palm. )

What’s that they say about pouring from an empty cup? I don’t know if they scaled for apocalypses, of course.

( probably solas will be in her ear later, yapping about focus. that was probably going to be true anyway. )

[Playing with rings could be seen as idle boldness, a shiny thing catching her eye as she fidgets. Threading their fingers together, holding hands, that says something more, something with intent. Emmrich can't ignore the greater context of this either, the comments she's made of late and the way she's looked at him.

There is a choice here.

It is not a difficult one.

Emmrich relaxes where he holds her and gives her hand a squeeze. There are several responses he could make, and he settles upon the one that is perhaps a little ridiculous, but therefore perfectly suitable for the evening.]

In case of apocalypses, perhaps one must fill their cup all the more when they've opportunity to do so. And if you need assistance in doing so...

( he is quite frankly asking for it when her smile sharpens into sly amusement and she asks— )

Did you want to pour into my cup, Emmrich?

( in a way that definitely would have got them both reprimanded if she’d ever been one of his students. )

[He'd deliberately opened the door to that and he knows it. He knows her enough to be aware that she'd never miss an opportunity quite like that, no less.

Emmrich smiles down at her with mischief and warmth.]

You do seem to have a taste for the more expensive vintages.

[Finer, older, the last one fits the best but he won't give in to his own self-doubt right in this moment. He moves his hand from her shoulder to her chin, encouraging just the right angle so he can brush his lips against hers.

How very, very good she'd never been one of his students.]

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