Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Blade

Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Carnath-Emory » Sun Jun 17, 2012 10:05 am

As well, for the swordswoman is many things - but no tracker at all. That had been Thorn's work, a lifetime and years ago; Quincy's later. Having no talent for the art she'd ignored it. But this is sufficiently straightforward to suit even blunt-minded swordswomen: a glimpse of his general direction, a pattern of dampness upon stone not much trod in hours.

"Pizdoi nakryt'sja," hissed soft beneath the breath, but this is her only deference to the concept of stealth; the legs still aren't all they should be, and she's made no attempt to move quietly. "It said he was to die. It said he was a - "

No more than that. There are things which she cannot comfortably say, and the high possibility besides that in her haste and ignorance, she'd simply misread. But there's that question for Lentham regardless - who clearly follows - and a single divergence from her pursuit; it requires time enough to catch a passerby's elbow and interrupt her business with quick, quiet instructions regarding gates, two chambers, and the securing of Below.

Only feet away, a very drenched coat is doing terrible things to a side-table.

"There." A narrow antechamber, damp footprints at its threshold. What enters bears no weapon at all, but its entrance is announced by the subtle thss-click of arcane metals, and its flesh glitters beneath torchflame. Its very brief entrance, for she's managed two steps past that doorframe and nothing else at all; the grey eyes stare.
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Glenn » Sun Jun 17, 2012 10:28 am

Kurt Lentham was a stalwart ally in many ways. He had seen all the strange Myrken had to offer. He was unyielding and determined. He could walk for the better part of a day without stopping, or even saying a word. He had murky but keen eyes that could observe his surroundings with expert precision. He answered questions when asked, generally. "Hooey." was his answer here.

Most of all, though, he had a flask, and as he fell in beside her, best he could, it was that very object that was placed upon her hand, probably killing the entirety of the mood. She needed it more than he did.
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Vanidor » Sun Jun 17, 2012 11:18 am

"Your stare is, as always, something to behold." His voice is low here, still busy as he is with the pipe and his weed. If there is nothing else from the other two, aside from this talk of 'hooey', he will continue the task until satisfied with the filling. Though he still does not have a light in order to smoke the thing. Which does make him sigh and return his gaze to the duo. Or more, if Ariane's warning had brought any guards or servant-folk along.

in any case.

He stands slowly, and for their benefit makes a small turn as if in order to show that it was, indeed, truly Jons the man. There is no sign of injury to the throat. Or injury at all, for that matter, other than the weathering of time and, well, weather. "So then. There is that rumor dispelled, eh? Fucking demon's and their ways. I like my head where it is, as well, so please leave it so. I'd hate to have to murder you both for the conceit. And before a soothing pipe at that." And that last, really, was said with a light smile. He was capable, but not serious.

"So. You have been looking, and now I am found. There is news as well. And for you, Constable, if you are STILL on that hunt... Mah. I would join you, but I know how you people are when mine are involved."
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Carnath-Emory » Sun Jun 17, 2012 11:42 am

She doesn't laugh when Lentham speaks; if the temptation's there, it's restrained behind a mouth drawn tight 'til it slightly trembles. There's a flask in her hand instead of a sword - see how mercurial steel draws back from its touch, how within moments it's receded completely? A flask instead of a sword, a man instead of a corpse instead of a head -

And when Feul next speaks, that's when she's laughing after all, abrupt and delighted, and a hundred different tensions are easing from her narrow lines.

"Times change - but us? Mm. Not always so much." And she's backstepping a pace or two then, just past the chamber's threshold and returning with another of the pretty lanterns. The best that can be managed without summoning extra bodies to the scene, perhaps - a thing which she is surely not willing to do. She'll lean to hand it to Feul, however - and see? How easy it is to fold back one of the little hinged panes.

All because it's better this way. Feul with his pipe, Lentham with his flask - although she'll have a good swallow taken from that and on second thoughts another, before returning it to his grasp.

"Pososi moyu konfetku," she's retorting then. "Across more miles than I can count and past oceans I cannot name - that far, the news of your death has traveled. And something of - fires, or buildings fallen, but this is Myrken; a fire is not news. And now here you sit in my home; yes, Jons Feul, I stare." And grins, too. "if there's a story to be told, I would hear it; if there's news, I'd have that as well."

But 'you people', he's added then, and 'mine', and the mouth slightly flattens; the voice quietens to see what will come of it.
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Glenn » Sun Jun 17, 2012 11:53 am

Flask is given freely and returned. Two drinks of it, Duchess? Cheeky, but then the situation warranted cheek, apparently. Feul, alive, breathing, talking calmly, fixing up his pipe. Really, now? Well and good, but he'd be taking a sip from that flask upon its return, thank you very much. "News is news." He finally says. Why not, anyway? So far as accomplices went, the Committee Chairwoman was more of one to Lentham than Jons. He had not been there for the specific crime. Did he help hide the fugitive later? Probably, but so did the elves and there was no hunting them.

"Out with it." Worst case? A wild goose chase, a trap? Just had to survive it and then move on. One more lead followed. When that was your life, there was no point in denying it.
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Vanidor » Sun Jun 17, 2012 3:47 pm

"Nan. It is troubling. Lamai has had her child, but she is... How do you say. Still not awake. Perhaps she is now, now that I have been gone from the city for some time now. She was not awake, and the Baron is... Ignoring things he should not. When this happened last? Burel invaded Derry. He means to clean up now, and finish what he started there. Christoph. He is the one that helps restrain the Duke's more, how do you say. More violent urges." So much said and all in so little a space. But then, this was Jons. He usually did prefer to use the edge of a blade to do his talking, if he did any at all.

But there it is. He is giving a warning that he utterly should NOT be giving. All with the ease of a man lighting his pipe with a taper and taking a good pull. The smoke is sweet. Pungent. It billows like a miniature cloud around his face.

"Coran is back also. I think. At the least, there is a new... School. By Orvere. They welcomed it, despite what happened at Golben. Perhaps in spite of it. Odd people, those. I am not sure if it IS the Count, but who else would do so?" Jons didn't much care for magic. He remembered a time that Burel didn't either. How things changed.

"Aeryn is a fucking bastard. Last I saw him, I put a knife in his leg and told him to just fade away. Or turn himself in. Should have just corrected him myself, but. Not my say, that one. He likes the forest though. Always did. He always managed to hide in it quicker than I could." And this. This was saying a lot coming from this particular man. "I stole this from Christoph's office though. Figured you could use it. Just... You didn't get it from me." And here is a slender knife. It is sharpened on one edge and inscribed with runes along the spine of it.

"It needs to be blessed. I'm sure you can find someone to do that here. It is Myrken after all."
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Carnath-Emory » Mon Jun 18, 2012 8:52 am

So much said; so much to digest, a fitting accompaniment to the sheaf of filthy pages still folded into her hand. Some sort of comment is required of her, but she'll sit before she says anything at all, seizing another of the chamber's small chairs for her use and with a moment yet to arrange legs which ache. The Rememdium for her; tomorrow. This has become unacceptable.

"Who else knows of this?"

Of the Duke's intentions, word of which has left the mouth slightly thinned and the throat in want of what Lentham's clutching all over again. The night warrants it; the moment, though, demands her unsullied attention. It was not so far from this room that the Duke had stood - years ago, with his precious Lenore - to present to her young Vara, a well-loved face, and newborn 'Rhys, who was.. something else altogether; whose quiet, dark eyes had wholly stunned her. Darkenhold stone had echoed with the sound of his roars the next morning - ravenous, they'd said - and how she'd laughed to hear it; so young and already demonstrating an excellent personality! So that the two moments are juxtaposed in her thoughts - the father, the warlord - and she is slow with her nod, with her reluctant acceptance of news which pains. "And the child - does it thrive?" Even as its mother weakens, perhaps.

This. This, she would not have wished upon Lamai.

"Orvere - burned under Jorn. is this insurrection again? How does Burel tolerate this?" The city had burned; at its worst it had seemed to her that even the ocean was aflame, that all the world was one seething gasp of hurt. Her sword hadn't much hesitated in dispatching those she reckoned most responsible. It had been with a fierce and silent pleasure that she'd cut through - "Coran begins again with schools; do you know anything else of this?" The tone concedes that she finds it unlikely; Feul's business has always laid elsewhere, much as her own ought to have.

But it is his flat condemnation of Karolinger which quiets her. This is for Lentham; her only answer is a flattening of the mouth and a small, terse nod. How do you slaughter a man who Jons Feul sometimes reckons his better?

Damned thoroughly. That's how.

And is this a weapon? Slender and lovely and keen, and though the soldier in her covets, a tilt of the chin is already indicating Lentham.

"Yours."
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Glenn » Mon Jun 18, 2012 11:18 am

Such things Ariane Emory offered. For such an offer she should surely be allowed another grasp of that flask.It was filled from her bottle after all. All her bottles, but that had been more than most. Still, part of a deal, and right now, he needed it more than she did. And if she said otherwise, she was welcome to take it. It would take iron to pry open his grip.

Here, in the face of this. A dead man. A dead woman. A dead man.

Speaking of such things.

"Hn." So accepting. What she WANTED to see, and nothing that she wanted to see at all. Still, he reckoned it stacked up pretty well for her side. Cards landed in a way that weren't all that bad given why she was back. He wasn't so sure. "Well and good, all of it, that most of all." The knife. He could read many a book, but understanding? Well, that was best at the end of a blade.

"Just one thing. You were killed by a dead man. Head scurried. Chased it down. Little bit unnerving, if you ask me. The whole business. Me and the duchess here, no matter what you say about us, well.. neither of us lost our head." Then a pause. "Cept, of course, I did." Then a sideways look to Ariane, quizzical, wondering, before brandishing the flask to drive his point home. "Didn't scurry away, though! So there's that."

Then, finally, looking across at him with a crooked nose and twisted grimace. "So just what the hell, man!"
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Vanidor » Mon Jun 18, 2012 12:45 pm

"Countess. At least, if she ever accepts." Jons made a sarcastic smile towards Ariane. It was possible that Jons held a similar title, if he would ever accept himself. Which he never would. There would be no one to pass it along too. There was no need for medals or awards for his service. Feul and Ariane were quite similar in that regard. However, it is to Lentham then that the assassin offers the blade, though he is sure to slide it back into the scabbard he carried it here with.

"The Marshals of course. The old Thane, but he's too tired to stall the Duke either. Bad heart, and his wife... Well. I'd rather face a dragon, personally." Mostly because he didn't care about the personal aspect of things, to be honest. He'd kill either if he was ordered to. "Dross has been looking forward to this. Solidifying the claim on Derry anyway. They want to make it a Duchy of a greater Kingdom. Amasynia reborn or Thessilane in ascendance. Either way, I get paid." A breath. A thought. "I'm sure its D'Zir. And if he's doing it, then you know Burel wishes it well. You know how he can be with his friends."

Again that half-smile, and on to another topic. "The child was well, last I saw. Don't remember if it's male or female though. I left the chamber before that part. I may enjoy death and fighting more than a man should, but no woman should ever scream like that. If Pasi hadn't been there... The outcome would be worse. And then I'd REALLY worry for the region." There was just something wrong with Thesil men loosing their wives and lovers. Bad things tended to happen. One invades. One burns a meetinghouse. One becomes a daemon?

"I... heard. About my death. That's what brought me here, amongst other things. I can assure you, it wasn't me." He pulls from the pipe. The man has said a lot and it's more than he's used too. But... Well. Ariane was a friend, if a man like him truly counted any. And Lentham. Well. He deserved the respect. Unlike others, he'd kept his nose to the ground where it belonged. "I never put much stock in the old tales though. Daemons and Angels and whatever other catfuckery is out there. Seems I was wrong." A pause. A consideration. "I must make sure to not die here in Myrken then, there must be something in the water here that brings back all the ills we'd rather forget about."
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Carnath-Emory » Mon Jun 18, 2012 1:43 pm

There are things which the swordswoman has accepted - immediately and without question. That she is incapable of determining whether or not this is actually Jons Feul; that distinguishing lies from truth is likewise impossible. The weapon is a weapon, after all, but it is also very simply human; in the end, it's not even a detective constable. It's possible, of course, to challenge the man's veracity - in this room, in this moment. Eminently possible to have a sword in her hand and immediately at his throat; to provoke the confrontation between them of which she'd been cautious for years - with no guarantee of its outcome and nothing much to be gained from it than a corpse.

For years. If theirs is a friendship, it has been riddled with strife - but it has also been long. That it is a thing of particular and unlikely value is nothing she will ever confess.

Why provoke the unnecessary in search of the unknowable? No: she has her seat and she will keep it; she will take the man at his word, because future days will identify deceit if any exists, and because Jons Feul is many things, but political is not one, and deceptive is not another. And she will let her questions roam far across the many things which he has described - until Kurt Lentham speaks some of them for her, and fills the woman with more joy than he could possibly care for.

It should always be someone else who does the talking. And see? That he's done it so well.

So: "Countess," a swordswoman has echoed - for Lentham. "Because that is how Burel can be with friends. And she won't," back towards Feul now, with some very small, grave smile. "This is enough for me." A tilt of her chin indicates: Darkenhold, countless walls of dark stone and the lush land which surrounds. Enough. Far more than enough. "Dross," she's murmured, though. "A fitting name for him - " but a hand's tilting to set that aside; a small nod acknowledges that this is very much his business and scarcely hers at all. 'Paid', after all. And that makes infinitely more sense to her than anything else said this evening at all.

And: "i must be glad of Pasi then - and not for the first time, mn?" But this is where she will quieten; this is where Lentham will speak for her and the swordswoman will ease into the role which suits her best. A silent thing of steel and blood and bone, one which attends to this matter with frowning eyes.
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Glenn » Mon Jun 18, 2012 2:14 pm

Very suddenly, Kurt Lentham has a lot on his mind. That is never, ever a good thing, and it is a RARE thing, indeed. A lonely, dusty path, but one that ever moves forward, with so few branching paths. The weight of a particularly gruesome Myrken lifetime behind him, driving him ever onward. So while Ariane Emory saw such value in his speaking up before, now he would be quiet, thoughtful.

It was one thing to chase Karolinger, chase him to the end of the world if that's what it would take. That was personal. Necessary. This, though, this was his job, and he hated every moment of it. The greater good. He couldn't deny it though. "Duchess." At least he could be willfully oblivious through it. The weapon they had pointed him at. Now he had just accepted another blade, one not nearly as fine. He would have to sacrifice now perhaps. "We can't go around distrusting everyone. Can't cause a big stink. CAN'T. Won't end well. It won't." Why, it wouldn't, he didn't say, but she could guess well enough. Paranoia, chaos, and what sort of order could someone with enemies force down upon everyone in that sort of atmosphere. "Thessholes, mainly. I go after Karolinger, get this blessed, hunt him down. You go see al Nerun. Make sure it's him. He came back to life too. See? If you want to catch up with me after that," almost sheepish after basically ordering her about, "I'll leave a trail. But first things first."
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Vanidor » Mon Jun 18, 2012 4:51 pm

"Thessholes. It has an amusing ring to it, that. Always made me laugh." He wondered if he'd actually fit into that mold. Perhaps. At least by this point he'd learned not to take offense to things. Otherwise he'd leave a trail of bodies behind, and that was never good for business. Still. He makes a breath, then slips from the perch he's placed himself upon. Another puff of the pipe, and a circle of smoke blown into the space about his head.

"If you want to be sure of me, Ariane. Ask Kerrak about the first time at Orvere, and the little gate. I went over the wall, put a knife in some Baron's son, and let him in. Wallbreaker. We let that stand to give him a proper reputation. Wouldn't be as frightening with him coming to let others know it was subterfuge that brought the wall down, not straight fierceness. Only he, Gerhard, and I knew it." Gerhard. He was the reason Aeryn was brought to Orvere the second time. All three times that the town had fallen, there was a Karolinger present. It was history.

"I should go. There are a few others that need to know about Lamai. And it's a damned long ride to Amasynia proper. I promise not to kill anyone along the way." This to either, and he'd make to leave if they'd let him. He obviously knew the way out, if he'd managed to get in.
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Carnath-Emory » Tue Jun 19, 2012 2:56 am

"What I lost... was something more than my head."

That, after moments of quiet reflection, from a woman who'd wondered if she'd speak the words until the moment she actually did. That, beneath a hundred other words, Feul's and Lentham's both, but in the midst of those the Constable addresses a matter of trust and her response is this sharp, fleeting smile. A nod will be her gratitude for this very uncommon demonstration of good sense, and not a word for the instructions which follow; a tilt of the hand sets those aside, defines these things as matters that are no longer Kurt Lentham's concern. He'd said as much himself, hadn't he? Commandingly.

"I like 'catfuckery' better," she's answered Feul meantime, quite solemn except that the twitch of her mouth confesses silent laughter. "I'll ask him. It's my business to be sure, mn? You'd do the same. I hope you would." And the mouth hesitates upon the shaping of things: something like relief, something like gladness, the hundred things which a woman might say who'd flown miles to Myrken in the space of a day, all sparked by the news of this man's death. But in the end it comes to no words at all, but this slow nod of her head instead, this soft chuckle of sound. And: "You know our kitchens?" He'd found the rest, after all. "Fetch something for the journey before you leave." And it is enough. It really is.

"More weapon than you'd expected, mn?" With a glance sidelong towards the Constable, even as she's unfolding from her seat; the legs protest, but the rest of her is eager for other things. That, and a nod down towards what his hand still holds, but: "When you find him - "

When.

"Don't you hesitate. Not for one moment."
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Re: Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Busywork at the End of a Bla

Postby Glenn » Tue Jun 19, 2012 6:30 am

Did she offer Feul food and rest and not Lentham? Sounded that way. Like an oversight. Probably was. Had offered a room before, but that had been dismissive. Still, Ariane Emory wasn't the sort of lady to make a distinction. Offer was an offer, context be damned, lots of things be damned.

"Hnn." More of a weapon. "Maybe, maybe not. You're bigger." A deadpan drawl, and with no chance for elaboration. No, no, he wouldn't be staying. Just a last refill of the flask. Just a turn back into the training room to whatever was left in her bottle. As he turned however, he'd offer nothing to Jons and for the Duchess of stone and iron, only this for her last words. "You saw me not hesitate even when it meant the life of a good man. Means a lot of different things now and not a one of them would make me think of it." A final pause. "Don't do a whole lot of thinking," and then, without further hesitation he had retreated back into the training room. The sound of liquor pouring might be heard a few moments later.
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