Glaewron, [ Yes, she's swiping Thranduil's name for him, fight her. ] are you available, at the moment? I wanted to give you your Satinalia gift, if that's alright.
Alright, then. I know the way to the house. I’ll...see you shortly.
[ Hope Kit doesn’t mind. Beleth doesn’t take too long to get there, though she stops at the door, giving a few short knocks, and looking nervously around. If neither are there—surely he doesn’t expect her to just waltz inside. The door is probably locked. And she’s not lockpicking her subordinate’s front door. Should she just wait outside, in that case?
Arms crossed, scowling worriedly off into the distance as she tries to puzzle out the proper decorum, Beleth has put the actual purpose of the visit aside to face this conundrum. ]
['House' had been an odd choice of words for his room in the Gallows, he thought getting back to work. Until ten minutes later when he realized she had meant Kit's place. Oh dear.]
[Gathering his things, he left the Gallows and hurried to Lowtown.]
[He wasn't winded when he made it, but he was breathing a bit quicker than usual.]
My humblest apologies. I had not realized you had meant Kit's home.
[He just crashed here when he wanted to weasel out of running around Kirkwall with a constant shadow.]
[ Beleth stares, baffled, at the Medicine Seller rushing up to her, then at Kit's door, then at him again. And slowly, she closes her eyes, and pinches the bridge of her nose. ]
Creators have mercy, I am so sorry. I had heard, and assumed--So we really both walked from the Gallows to come hang out at Kit's house? Do you want to go back, then? Or--I don't know. It'd be odd hanging out here, if this isn't where you're actually staying.
[ It'd also be nicer to have privacy, without the potential of Kit waltzing in. Not that she didn't like Kit, but. Privacy. ]
[The Medicine Seller seemed more amused by the mix-up than anything. He liked Kit as much as he could generally find himself fond of another person, but he wasn't about to give up his cushy room and sort-of business in the Gallows for somewhere less pleasant in Darktown unless the curfew nonsense became utterly intolerable.]
Alas I am only a frequent albeit temporary guest for him.
[In other words, he showed up in the small hours of the morning, occasionally bloodied and bruised from a spat with a demon or three, offering liquor or tobacco (or something a bit stronger) for a place to sleep off the worst of it.]
Let us walk, at least. I have gotten somewhat used to the streets of Kirkwall. ...The main ones, at least.
[He sounded a little disgruntled about this; that even his impeccable sense of direction that had led him frequently on safe trips through even Aokigahara had been beaten by a smelly city and its strangeness.]
I was once told that when Merrill lived here, she used a ball of yarn to get around. But it's probably an exaggeration from Varric, I can't imagine it wouldn't get cut or anything...
[ She shrugs as she starts walking, sticking close to the Medicine Seller, hand reaching out to settle lightly on his arm, even as her eyes darted around. She doesn't like Darktown, and it doesn't much like her back. It's not as though she's afraid, but. Always better to stick together. ]
I suppose it's good for me to get out of the Gallows more often, anyway. I'm not a cloistered Chantry sister.
I do not think any in Kirkwall would miss the opportunity to acquire free yarn.
[And the Medicine Seller wasn't about to waste any. Winter was on it's way and he'd need that for burrowing into fifty knit scarves]
I confess, I have trouble envisioning you in the sisters' tall hats.
[They managed to navigate Darktown unharassed - a miracle given they were two elves (or at least one elf and one Unknown that looked like an elf to the casual observer). It might have been that he and Kit had a reputation for being formidable. It might have been a general wariness of the Inquisition. Either way, the worst they encountered was a haggard old woman who stopped the Medicine Seller to let him know her headache medicine was getting low.]
[ Beleth herself might have made a stop once or twice in Darktown, strictly professionally, to chat with some of the gangs, professionally, about what she would professionally do to them if they bothered the Inquisition agents in Darktown. Open communication is essential, after all.
The Medicine Seller's crack about hats earns him a loud giggle, Beleth quickly shaking her head. ]
Maybe just those veils that sweep back the hair. Mine is always getting in the way, anyway.
[ Beleth is politely silent as she watches the woman speak to him, head tilting curiously as the woman leaves. Then she glances at The Medicine Seller, expression thoughtful. ]
You help the people down here. They surely can't pay much, you'd get more in Hightown. I wonder--is it because the Hightown nobles dislike the idea of buying from a rifter elf? Or could it be, Glaewron, that you're a kind person?
[She was right - they couldn't give him much, though sometimes they tried out of a stubborn sense of pride. He passed, unless that something was a little tidbit of information.]
You must be mistaken. I am a medicine seller. If there is sickness, then that is where my skills are needed.
[A small, sly smile crossed his lips. He confessed:]
Though... Hightown is... very lucrative - they do not so much mind the shape of one's ears if they can chase the illusion of their youth in brothels.
[Not to mention all the powders and dyes and creams to smooth out wrinkles or soothe the tell-tale rashes and sores from jealous husbands and wives. He practically scalped the nobles for what mostly amounted to placebos and he didn't feel a scrap of guilt about it.]
...And the people of the Inquisition pay very well for my services as well.
[ The hand that Beleth puts over her mouth doesn't quite muffle the undignified squawk of amusement at the idea of Hightown nobles trying to acquire some...marital aids. Or not marital. Who knows, with them. ]
Fenedhis. Truly? How do you keep a straight face, when you deal with them?
[ She shakes her head, her smile not fading, but turning teasing as they change subjects. ]
Fine, then. You are a medicine seller who gives the less fortunate aid that they would otherwise be forced to go without, because being a medicine seller compels you to. You have no choice in the matter.
[ Yes, she believes that. This is her believing face. ]
I'm quite certain I don't want to know, I can't even begin to imagine.
[ Poor, poor Medicine Seller. Beleth does not envy him. She does, however, shoot him a wry look, and as they're nearing the docks, briefly considers threatening to shove him into the water. But there are probably ten different kinds of diseases waiting in there to kill some poor fool. She's not that mean.
Instead, she makes her way to where they'll have to wait for the boat to take them across, and turns towards him, opens her mouth--Then frowns. ]
Your bangs. They're always hanging in your face. You should just--
[ And she reaches up to try brushing them to the side, mouth twisting into what could be a small smile. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[crystal]
Re: [crystal]
put those fangs away bruh
[ Hope Kit doesn’t mind. Beleth doesn’t take too long to get there, though she stops at the door, giving a few short knocks, and looking nervously around. If neither are there—surely he doesn’t expect her to just waltz inside. The door is probably locked. And she’s not lockpicking her subordinate’s front door. Should she just wait outside, in that case?
Arms crossed, scowling worriedly off into the distance as she tries to puzzle out the proper decorum, Beleth has put the actual purpose of the visit aside to face this conundrum. ]
NEVER
[Gathering his things, he left the Gallows and hurried to Lowtown.]
[He wasn't winded when he made it, but he was breathing a bit quicker than usual.]
My humblest apologies. I had not realized you had meant Kit's home.
[He just crashed here when he wanted to weasel out of running around Kirkwall with a constant shadow.]
no subject
Creators have mercy, I am so sorry. I had heard, and assumed--So we really both walked from the Gallows to come hang out at Kit's house? Do you want to go back, then? Or--I don't know. It'd be odd hanging out here, if this isn't where you're actually staying.
[ It'd also be nicer to have privacy, without the potential of Kit waltzing in. Not that she didn't like Kit, but. Privacy. ]
no subject
Alas I am only a frequent albeit temporary guest for him.
[In other words, he showed up in the small hours of the morning, occasionally bloodied and bruised from a spat with a demon or three, offering liquor or tobacco (or something a bit stronger) for a place to sleep off the worst of it.]
Let us walk, at least. I have gotten somewhat used to the streets of Kirkwall. ...The main ones, at least.
[He sounded a little disgruntled about this; that even his impeccable sense of direction that had led him frequently on safe trips through even Aokigahara had been beaten by a smelly city and its strangeness.]
no subject
[ She shrugs as she starts walking, sticking close to the Medicine Seller, hand reaching out to settle lightly on his arm, even as her eyes darted around. She doesn't like Darktown, and it doesn't much like her back. It's not as though she's afraid, but. Always better to stick together. ]
I suppose it's good for me to get out of the Gallows more often, anyway. I'm not a cloistered Chantry sister.
no subject
[And the Medicine Seller wasn't about to waste any. Winter was on it's way and he'd need that for burrowing into fifty knit scarves]
I confess, I have trouble envisioning you in the sisters' tall hats.
[They managed to navigate Darktown unharassed - a miracle given they were two elves (or at least one elf and one Unknown that looked like an elf to the casual observer). It might have been that he and Kit had a reputation for being formidable. It might have been a general wariness of the Inquisition. Either way, the worst they encountered was a haggard old woman who stopped the Medicine Seller to let him know her headache medicine was getting low.]
no subject
The Medicine Seller's crack about hats earns him a loud giggle, Beleth quickly shaking her head. ]
Maybe just those veils that sweep back the hair. Mine is always getting in the way, anyway.
[ Beleth is politely silent as she watches the woman speak to him, head tilting curiously as the woman leaves. Then she glances at The Medicine Seller, expression thoughtful. ]
You help the people down here. They surely can't pay much, you'd get more in Hightown. I wonder--is it because the Hightown nobles dislike the idea of buying from a rifter elf? Or could it be, Glaewron, that you're a kind person?
no subject
You must be mistaken. I am a medicine seller. If there is sickness, then that is where my skills are needed.
[A small, sly smile crossed his lips. He confessed:]
Though... Hightown is... very lucrative - they do not so much mind the shape of one's ears if they can chase the illusion of their youth in brothels.
[Not to mention all the powders and dyes and creams to smooth out wrinkles or soothe the tell-tale rashes and sores from jealous husbands and wives. He practically scalped the nobles for what mostly amounted to placebos and he didn't feel a scrap of guilt about it.]
...And the people of the Inquisition pay very well for my services as well.
no subject
Fenedhis. Truly? How do you keep a straight face, when you deal with them?
[ She shakes her head, her smile not fading, but turning teasing as they change subjects. ]
Fine, then. You are a medicine seller who gives the less fortunate aid that they would otherwise be forced to go without, because being a medicine seller compels you to. You have no choice in the matter.
[ Yes, she believes that. This is her believing face. ]
no subject
[He's been doing this for years, Beleth. He has had people come to him with the weirdest problems. Nothing surprises him now. He has seen Some Shit.]
I am glad you understand however.
[Was he joking? Was he really compelled to treat the sick? His deadpan expression sure wasn't giving anything away.]
no subject
[ Poor, poor Medicine Seller. Beleth does not envy him. She does, however, shoot him a wry look, and as they're nearing the docks, briefly considers threatening to shove him into the water. But there are probably ten different kinds of diseases waiting in there to kill some poor fool. She's not that mean.
Instead, she makes her way to where they'll have to wait for the boat to take them across, and turns towards him, opens her mouth--Then frowns. ]
Your bangs. They're always hanging in your face. You should just--
[ And she reaches up to try brushing them to the side, mouth twisting into what could be a small smile. ]