Acting upon the request of a number of city's stewards, you are being dispatched to assist the Cumberland Guard in fortifying the protections of a number of the city's outlying mausoleums which have recently suffered vandalization.
While the stewards believe the discretion may be the work of discontented refugees late of Nevarra City, the request submitted to this division lacked any meaningful evidence to support that accusation. I would caution you against enabling the drawing of any undue conclusions while attached to the Guard's service. You are rather directed to support the Guard in whatever manner you deem most suitable so long as Riftwatch's good reputation among the Nevarran City refugee population and the city's officials is reasonably well protected.
You may take in your company as many as to two members of Riftwatch's service of your choosing. Should they fall outside the division, submit your personnel requests to their respective departments.
(Upon realising that she was wounded right in front of Vanya and never followed up after the fact, this early evening crystal message is humble, apologetic–) Hey. I never thanked you for (essentially,) saving my ass, out at Antiva.
In the course of their return from Starkhaven, spoils and captives and newly-acquired dracolisk secured and their companions settled down for the night, Ellis breaks the tacit understanding he and Vanya have established.
Rather than taking east and west, Ellis follows along with Vanya towards the dark at the edges of their camp.
"We should discuss what happened," cuts directly to the point.
"If you think we should," is quiet and even, less agreement than acquiescence. Still, he feels that Ellis is the person in this situation who gets to make the call, and he makes no effort to avoid him, though he doesn't stop moving out to where he'd planned to set up to take this watch. If nothing else, it's a conversation he'd rather have with only Ellis, or at least only Ellis first.
He's been relatively quiet since the battle, but it's Vanya; on its own, that doesn't signify much.
[On a stairwell, Vanya gets to experience observing the distinctly predatory gleam in a particular young lady's eye when she happens to look up and spot him from two dozen stairs off. And behold! The ominous sensation of impending doom that comes from marking Wysteria de Foncé hiking her skirts a half inch higher so she might ascend the stairs at a slightly more aggressive pace.
Worst, and most.terrifying of all:]
Ser Orlov! I've been looking for you.
congratulations on getting his official glasses debut
[Vanya, to his credit or otherwise, doesn't try to duck away or pretend he hasn't seen her. On the contrary. Once he realizes she's trying to catch up, he stops and waits for her, to one side in case someone comes down the other way.]
Madame de de Foncé, [by way of greeting, along with a small nod.] How can I be of assistance?
[It likely says more about him than her that he assumes there's some task, rather than a social motive, behind anyone looking for him with any enthusiasm.]
The next time that Vanya finds his room, Cedric's waiting in the hall.
He's a polite distance from the door: Arms crossed, knees jammed into the lock-legged slouch particular to guards, attendants, and horses world-round.
"Orlov," Cheerful. No title, of course. There were only so many Nevarran Templars in the Inquisition - fewer that took up with Venatori. His absence from the March wasn't subtle. "You got taller."
Cedric, for his part, has put on an inch. But who could even tell, all the way down there?
Edited 2024-02-05 04:47 (UTC)
love this! feels likely with the age difference they mainly knew each other in Inquisition years?
Vanya raises his eyebrows. "Carsus. When did you arrive?"
Quitting lyrium and several hard years have certainly left Vanya looking a bit older than when they last saw one another at Skyhold (something Cedric could have noted either in the Exalted Plains or not; there was a lot going on). Still, he doesn't look unwell nor out of training. Jury is out on height.
He doesn't seem unhappy to see Cedric, though his look is subtly assessing.
( Straightforward, matter-of-fact, definitely with his metaphorical Head Healer hat on today: )
Orlov, hello. I’ve a matter to discuss whenever you have a moment. Somewhat delicate and medical in nature.
( The opening message is a little stiff and stilted. Thanks to their trip to the village of Cledwyn and his chat with the seneschal, he knows Vanya was a templar; doesn’t know, yet, that the topic he’s about to broach is already moot. )
( it's coincidence and not design that gwenaëlle and vanya cross paths, after the mail run; she's a little aimless, visibly distracted—
stops beside him. she starts to say something — maybe to make stilted and ordinary conversation about the clandestine meeting he'd caught her sneaking out for in orlais — and then gives up before it becomes anything particularly decipherable or clever and very abruptly throws her arms tightly around his waist.
too tightly to be entirely comfortable. she's totally fine. )
[He freezes, initially, as if unsure how to respond. After a pause, one of his hands goes to her shoulder. He doesn't pull her closer or push her away.]
Did something happen? [he ventures after she hasn't let go for a moment or two.]
[Tav is back in the Infirmary after a long night of little rest, accompanied by a pair of guards that he encourages to step back towards the door. The elf himself slowly makes his way towards Vanya's cot with a soft smile, trying to look as calm as possible.]
You likely don't remember me, but I'm Tav. I've come back to check on you, see if you need a little more of the healing touch. [He raises his hands and the soft glow of turquoise light emanates from them.]
[Vanya looks a bit better. "Hard to look worse" aside, he's since had a chance to clean up and shave, and he's changed into a clean night shirt and soft trousers. When Tav comes in, he looks a bit guarded, propped up a bit on some pillows.]
Good day. I'm well taken care of, thank you.
[It's polite, genuinely so, but it's clear that no more magic is his first, visceral reaction. It's not so strong a reaction as to create any physical recoil, but he doesn't seem to want to be coaxed past it, either.]
I thank you, though, for your earlier attention. It was kindly offered.
[ is vanya asleep? he will be or he won't be. cedric rolls over, squinting through dim (never proper dark in these tents, not with construction on at all hours). ]
[ vanya isn't the only nevarran ness knows, but he is the only one she thinks she may spend time with without incident (she's far too likely to make a fool of herself around cedric, after all). so, here she comes, brightly over the crystal, closer to the evening than she usually calls on anyone—closer to when work tasks may have been set aside for the day. ]
Messere Orlov, may I have a moment of your time? Perhaps more than a moment, if you're amenable to a request.
Ness has never claimed to be terribly clever—not out loud, at least. She has as high an estimation of her own intelligence as any other young adult gifted with academic success at the expense of a social life, but she at least has enough of a sense of tact and dramatic irony not to go on about it. For one thing, it's terribly gauche to insist on one's own intelligence; for another, it's just an invitation to get one's comeuppance in the most humiliating way possible somewhere down the line. So: Ness knows she's clever, but she does her best not to make too much of a show of it.
It's for moments like this that she holds herself to that. This moment when she trails behind Vanya out of the library after another lesson on Nevarran, puzzling as much over his presence as the Nevarran text she's been sent back to her room with, when she'd been so sure that he'd prefer not to speak to her again after Sarrux. Moments like this, when the answer hits her, and she realizes she's been a complete fool.
"Oh," she says to the book in her arms, and then she looks up and blinks at Vanya's back. "Oh, Messere Orlov, I think—I think I owe you an apology."
Their lesson had been, as most of them were, steady and focused on his end. That said, there was no appreciable difference from the lessons she'd had before their mission to Sarrux. He'd showed up just as prepared and ready to engage with her as he ever had. (Well, after a short pause where he'd had to heal for a bit, but more or less all of them had been at least briefly in the infirmary post-Sarrux. He's aware that his battle wounds counted as getting off lightly, but they still took some healing once the adrenaline wasn't pushing him through.)
He hasn't meant to get ahead of her and now turns back when she speaks, quietly but obviously surprised. "...do you think so?" is certainly more polite than what for would be, but the sentiment isn't dissimilar. It's clear he doesn't want to contradict her, but with his mind full of their recent lesson, he's dubious of the claim.
"No," Ness wails, laughing through her horror while she stirs the pot in front of her. "I refuse to believe it. The Commander absolutely did not confuse salt for sugar and then force you to eat the resulting monstrosity anyway. No one is that cruel, not even a Knight Commander!"
She places a lid on the pot and wipes her hands off on her plain linen apron, turning from the fire to lean her hip against the butcher block counter in the middle of the kitchen. The food is simmering at the moment, no longer something she needs to watch quite so closely, and so she can move her attention to Vanya and the crust of bread she's been snacking on while cooking.
"Is that why you left the order, then?" she asks, gently teasing, hand held over her mouth to hide her chewing. This is a serious topic, but sometimes it's easier to talk about the serious things through a screen of laughter. "Torture via over-sugared stew?"
Vanya had been perhaps unexpectedly moved the first time she cooked for him, but now it has become enough of a habit for him to genuinely relax. Or at least Vanya's equivalent, leaning on the edge of the counter opposite while she cooks, once he's asked if she needs any help, as he always does. Since they've come from a study session, he's not visibly armed, dressed his version of civilian clothes (though their aggressive neatness is always going to scream soldier at a glance). He's still smiling a bit at her response to the story.
"While the Commander could be harsh, I truly believe this time was more about embarrassment. He joined us in eating it, loudly insisting it was good, in fact, and we didn't know what we were talking about." Wry, "Went back for seconds, too. I can't say he wasn't committed." He sighs lightly, shaking his head. "It was not the reason I quit, in fact, though I think one or two of the more junior templars considered it for an hour or two that evening."
crystals;
[ contemplative (a question) - he's indulged them thus far ]
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[And the lyrium addiction, but let's walk before we run.]
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orders;
Acting upon the request of a number of city's stewards, you are being dispatched to assist the Cumberland Guard in fortifying the protections of a number of the city's outlying mausoleums which have recently suffered vandalization.
While the stewards believe the discretion may be the work of discontented refugees late of Nevarra City, the request submitted to this division lacked any meaningful evidence to support that accusation. I would caution you against enabling the drawing of any undue conclusions while attached to the Guard's service. You are rather directed to support the Guard in whatever manner you deem most suitable so long as Riftwatch's good reputation among the Nevarran City refugee population and the city's officials is reasonably well protected.
You may take in your company as many as to two members of Riftwatch's service of your choosing. Should they fall outside the division, submit your personnel requests to their respective departments.
J. Flint
Forces Division
crystal, backdated to just post-antiva
Uh.
Thanks. I was lucky you were there.
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Are you healing alright?
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oh god sorry for late
you're all good
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crystal.
[ during the day, and without preamble, ]
I require a moment of your time.
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Captain Rowntree. How may I assist you?
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crystal -> action
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post-blood party.
Rather than taking east and west, Ellis follows along with Vanya towards the dark at the edges of their camp.
"We should discuss what happened," cuts directly to the point.
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He's been relatively quiet since the battle, but it's Vanya; on its own, that doesn't signify much.
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crystal / post riftmas
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action
Orlov, wondered if I might ask a favor.
[Everything is completely above board.]
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Don't believe him! He's a desperate man!
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action;
Worst, and most.terrifying of all:]
Ser Orlov! I've been looking for you.
congratulations on getting his official glasses debut
Madame de de Foncé, [by way of greeting, along with a small nod.] How can I be of assistance?
[It likely says more about him than her that he assumes there's some task, rather than a social motive, behind anyone looking for him with any enthusiasm.]
🏆
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crystal.
Ser Vanya? Are you in the Gallows right now?
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[He hasn't participated in the current conversation, but given the promptness of the answer, it sounds like he's not been ignorant of it.]
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action; im rolling with vagueness but happy to incorporate any specific past cr or knowledge
He's a polite distance from the door: Arms crossed, knees jammed into the lock-legged slouch particular to guards, attendants, and horses world-round.
"Orlov," Cheerful. No title, of course. There were only so many Nevarran Templars in the Inquisition - fewer that took up with Venatori. His absence from the March wasn't subtle. "You got taller."
Cedric, for his part, has put on an inch. But who could even tell, all the way down there?
love this! feels likely with the age difference they mainly knew each other in Inquisition years?
Quitting lyrium and several hard years have certainly left Vanya looking a bit older than when they last saw one another at Skyhold (something Cedric could have noted either in the Exalted Plains or not; there was a lot going on). Still, he doesn't look unwell nor out of training. Jury is out on height.
He doesn't seem unhappy to see Cedric, though his look is subtly assessing.
sounds good to me!
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crystal.
Orlov, hello. I’ve a matter to discuss whenever you have a moment. Somewhat delicate and medical in nature.
( The opening message is a little stiff and stilted. Thanks to their trip to the village of Cledwyn and his chat with the seneschal, he knows Vanya was a templar; doesn’t know, yet, that the topic he’s about to broach is already moot. )
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Alright. What do you need?
fantasy drug talk obvy
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the gallows.
stops beside him. she starts to say something — maybe to make stilted and ordinary conversation about the clandestine meeting he'd caught her sneaking out for in orlais — and then gives up before it becomes anything particularly decipherable or clever and very abruptly throws her arms tightly around his waist.
too tightly to be entirely comfortable. she's totally fine. )
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Did something happen? [he ventures after she hasn't let go for a moment or two.]
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infirmary
You likely don't remember me, but I'm Tav. I've come back to check on you, see if you need a little more of the healing touch. [He raises his hands and the soft glow of turquoise light emanates from them.]
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Good day. I'm well taken care of, thank you.
[It's polite, genuinely so, but it's clear that no more magic is his first, visceral reaction. It's not so strong a reaction as to create any physical recoil, but he doesn't seem to want to be coaxed past it, either.]
I thank you, though, for your earlier attention. It was kindly offered.
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crystals; vague time
[ is vanya asleep? he will be or he won't be. cedric rolls over, squinting through dim (never proper dark in these tents, not with construction on at all hours). ]
His family, I mean.
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Does he. [A small pause.] Did he elaborate as to why?
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crystals;
[ at least they've already talked funerals ]
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I don't suppose the tent in the garden will remain an option indefinitely, [speculative.]
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crystal; to start.
[ vanya isn't the only nevarran ness knows, but he is the only one she thinks she may spend time with without incident (she's far too likely to make a fool of herself around cedric, after all). so, here she comes, brightly over the crystal, closer to the evening than she usually calls on anyone—closer to when work tasks may have been set aside for the day. ]
Messere Orlov, may I have a moment of your time? Perhaps more than a moment, if you're amenable to a request.
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places a bow
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[the voice is hesitant, uneasy, a far cry from Barrow's characteristic affability:]
--wondered if I might. Borrow you, when you've got a moment. Get your perspective on something.
[now what could it possibly be]
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I am happy to make some time. Shall I meet you somewhere?
[He doesn't mind talking over sending crystal, but he suspects Barrow might prefer somewhere they can have a drink.]
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crystal > action
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action; backdated more reasonably post-sarrux
It's for moments like this that she holds herself to that. This moment when she trails behind Vanya out of the library after another lesson on Nevarran, puzzling as much over his presence as the Nevarran text she's been sent back to her room with, when she'd been so sure that he'd prefer not to speak to her again after Sarrux. Moments like this, when the answer hits her, and she realizes she's been a complete fool.
"Oh," she says to the book in her arms, and then she looks up and blinks at Vanya's back. "Oh, Messere Orlov, I think—I think I owe you an apology."
ty for your patience, woof
He hasn't meant to get ahead of her and now turns back when she speaks, quietly but obviously surprised. "...do you think so?" is certainly more polite than what for would be, but the sentiment isn't dissimilar. It's clear he doesn't want to contradict her, but with his mind full of their recent lesson, he's dubious of the claim.
right back at you, craughs
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🎀
action; it's time for templar talks, also i'm taking over your inbox.
She places a lid on the pot and wipes her hands off on her plain linen apron, turning from the fire to lean her hip against the butcher block counter in the middle of the kitchen. The food is simmering at the moment, no longer something she needs to watch quite so closely, and so she can move her attention to Vanya and the crust of bread she's been snacking on while cooking.
"Is that why you left the order, then?" she asks, gently teasing, hand held over her mouth to hide her chewing. This is a serious topic, but sometimes it's easier to talk about the serious things through a screen of laughter. "Torture via over-sugared stew?"
oh hey it's that tag I was talking about
"While the Commander could be harsh, I truly believe this time was more about embarrassment. He joined us in eating it, loudly insisting it was good, in fact, and we didn't know what we were talking about." Wry, "Went back for seconds, too. I can't say he wasn't committed." He sighs lightly, shaking his head. "It was not the reason I quit, in fact, though I think one or two of the more junior templars considered it for an hour or two that evening."
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didn’t work.
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Any word from the doctor on ... are there particular factors in play?
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