bakerstreet | over a drink

Well.

( her voice is soft; threaded with that rueful edge that carries her through most interactions with a wink and a nod, only tempered. hope is not a delicate thing, in her experience; hope is the stubborn inability to lie down in the face of overwhelming odds. getting up, again and again— learning from everything that knocks them down, first. it is valuable. it matters.

it isn’t what she’d like lucanis to overhear her calling treviso — a lesson — but what’s she to do except learn and get up?

know more. do more. be more. prepare. )

Failing a unilateral surrender of the Evanuris or a stiffer drink and a better night,

( two incredibly different ends of the potential comforts spectrum, )

it isn’t nothing.

( she reaches across the table to press his wrist again, her hand mostly pale where the pigment has been fading away over the years, ) And I appreciate it.

[Emmrich smiles gently over at her. This is not how he'd expected the evening to go, and if he was a wagering man he'd bet it hadn't been to her expectations either. That's not a bad thing, though.]

I can't arrange the former, unfortunately, but Manfred can make his way home by himself and we could seek out a location for the latter.

[He's not in a rush to get back.]

The offer comes with no expectations. I may be done with my tasks for the evening, but I don't know what your plans were.

( she favours manfred with a lopsided smile— )

You wouldn’t mind sparing me your dad for an evening? Bring you back a trinket.

( where exactly is she going to find manfred a souvenir? don’t worry about it, she’ll figure it out— that’s enough of a confirmation, though, before she even says, refocusing on emmrich: )

I was just going to head back to the Lighthouse and, I don’t know, rifle through Solas’s old sock drawer for inspiration. You can save me from myself. Or whatever conversation I’d have to endure with him, after.

[The possibilities for what 'trinket' entail here go from entirely harmless shiny thing to objects that will cause mischief for days on end, but he can't ask her not to do so when Manfred's already clapping delightedly and dropping off the stool. Emmrich especially can't say anything when his apprentice picks up the dirty napkin pile and takes it to a waste bin on the way out. How could he?]

Frankly I would have hoped you'd already deliberately lost one of each pair of his socks by now. That seems like it would be far more entertaining than speaking with him more.

[He stretches before finishing his drink with ease. It's weak enough stuff that it won't be a problem.]

Any prospects, or should we start to wander?

( at her size, even weak swill like this might’ve been a challenge to chug — or at least made her head swim, momentarily — but she’s also prepared to abandon half of it, so with just another mouthful before she rises to settle their bill, )

Let’s go for a walk.

( maybe it’ll clear her head a bit. not of the alcohol, but...

everything else. athénaïs is small and fast, so scooting around manfred and emmrich to get to the bar first is easy — at least the weak drinks were cheap. over her shoulder: ) On the boss.

( to be fair, probably whatever gold she just dug out of a pocket to pay the barkeep she just found somewhere in the crossroads; she had described herself, deprecatingly, as not exactly liquid. adventuring tends to sort of pay for itself, in a way, but it doesn’t tend to leave one with a lot of ready cash at hand. gold flows into her pockets and out of them again, and always has—

mostly in ways she’d be prepared to report to myrna. these days. mostly.

that settled, she links arms with emmrich partially so she can control his ability to stride twice the length she can manage and partially because it’s nice, and why not. )

It’s a mild night. We might as well make the most of it while that lasts.

[On the boss, as if he doesn't have a steady (and not insignificant) regular income still. He shakes his head, but he won't argue it. After this much time in Rook's company, he knows he'll lose.

He'll just make certain he adds more to the meal funds.]

A splendid idea. Starlight, pleasant weather, and excellent company on my arm. What else could anyone ask for?

[He's an early riser, but he loves the look of the world at night. Twinkling lights and tiny wisps shine all the more because of the encroaching dark. It's poetry. Being forced to slow down from his usual pace means he gets to take more of it in, too. Of course, it also means there's time for slightly ridiculous questions to come to mind.]

Did he leave a sock drawer?

( despite having brought up solas’s socks in the first place, the question takes her off-guard enough to startle a laugh out of her, squeezing his elbow where she’s holding him— )

Not as I’ve found, ( athénaïs admits, ) though I have a feeling the Lighthouse hasn’t given up all its secrets to me. ( yet, anyway; on sleepless nights (or what passes for nights in the crossroads of the fade), it’s as good an occupation as any to keep her busy and out of trouble. she’s paced every corridor available to her, examined every scrap of forgotten paper, rifled underneath every shelf for anything that might’ve fallen and rolled away to some nook or crevice for the past however many hundreds of years.

thousands, even. )

The wolf’s den seems more an office than personal quarters. But he must’ve slept somewhere. Whatever he began as, he’s a man with feet now.

( and all the needs and inconveniences that embodiment entail. )

Feet, truly the worst fate to befall such a being. Though I believe Pride always manifests with feet, unlike many others.

[He's gotten a genuine laugh out of her, and if anyone needs laughter, it's Rook. Emmrich is not too proud to be silly for a good cause.]

Perhaps that was not always the case, however. Perhaps as Solas changed, Pride reflected that.

[But that's potentially leading back into heavy territory, like the first nature of the others. He's of the opinion that legends are right to tie Vengeance and Elgar'nan together, but Ghilan'nain? What was she? Curiosity twisted into an unrecognizable form? This evening does not need to be spoiled with that discussion.]

No matter. Many of the rooms do seem to include sleeping options when revealing their form. Most, in fact.

[His had not chosen to do so. His also had full 'sunlight' at all hours. If not for all of the bookshelves and the way sometimes books he needed but had not previously owned showed up, he might wonder if the Lighthouse was not exactly fond of him.]

Personally I keep wondering Assan is interested in investigating the towers that are not yet connected to the base. Manfred should be light enough to assist, if he was interested too. I say if, as if he doesn't stand on the ramparts watching the towers half the day already.

( the meditation room that she’s made her own rather suits her in the way it’s provided somewhere to sleep: it’s far from the first time in her life that she’s been prone to sprawling face down on a chaise sofa and passing out. occasionally she remembers bedding. sometimes she wakes up beneath a blanket, and presumes the caretaker has been— caretaking.

putting up decorations. changing the lights. it’s all rearranging chairs on a sinking ship, maybe, but something in her shoulders still relaxes every time she steps back through the vi’revas. it’s a feeling she’ll miss when this is all over, she thinks, and then she decides not to think about that. they’re talking about solas’s stupid socks and whether or not manfred could ride a griffon, not

anything heavier than manfred, on a griffon. )

If, ( she agrees with a quiet laugh, trusting emmrich’s footing as she’s paying more mind to what they pass than where she steps, an eye out for trouble or a better class of bar. ) I think he’d jump at the chance. Onto Assan, probably.

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. )

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