westwhere | [closed]

Entry tags:

[closed]

WHO: Anduin & Wrathion
WHEN: Present-ish, following this conversation
WHERE: Their accommodations
WHAT: Anduin receives an assignment from the Merchant; having absolutely no idea how to handle this, he be panicking a little
WARNINGS: discussion of Wrathion's history with content including draconic slavery/experimentation/forced breeding

Anduin paces back and forth along the length of the room -- their room, he supposes he should consider it, though he is still having some trouble adjusting to that fact -- his hands clasped behind his back and a troubled expression on his face.

He supposes he might have expected a message from the Merchant sooner or later. Anduin has questioned the man's motivations in aiding the displaced otherworlders from the start, Anduin's distrust of his motivations only growing the more that he had learned about the strings the man was pulling behind the scenes of the rebellion. With the debt that is owed to the man from the way that he had rescued them from the desert, it stands to reason that he would come knocking, asking for some sort of compensation. When the message finally comes, however...

Anduin feels as though a mistake has been made. Or is it a test? Of his resolve? His dedication to the cause? Whatever the Merchant's motivations are for having chosen Anduin himself for this particular assignment, they can't be good.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Wrathion lets himself in through the door silently at close enough to the ten minute mark. His plain black coat is back on, blending him away, and the majority of his curls are tied back out of his face -- although a few escape and hang loose. He pauses by the door, closing it behind himself and tilting his head at Anduin.

"Should I be locking this?"

How paranoid should they be about the contents of this conversation? Anduin certainly implied a level of urgency and secrecy both.

Edited 2021-12-11 22:49 (UTC)

Anduin's pacing halts in place at the sound of Wrathion letting himself in the door, his paranoia getting the better of him for a moment until he sags with relief at the sight of the other man. Reaching up a hand, he pushes a lock of hair out of his face and resumes his back and forth across the room.

"Please," he replies. He can only imagine what might come of being overheard, with the things he is about to share.

He waits until Wrathion does exactly that before he turns to him, uncertainty in his wide blue eyes.

"You spoke of your initial role in the palace, under the nephew's political party," Anduin begins. "That the Merchant provided you with this cover story. Did he -- assign you this position?"

How much of a choice had he had in the matter?

Wrathion locks the door, curiosity rising now, and paces further into the room. Picking a patch of wall he leans up against it, arms folding as he settles. He considers the question, and when he answers his tone is bland and factual.

"He did. Karsa found me after I was swept up among some citizens made homeless after the siege laid to Taravast by the undead armies. I'd been waiting in the kitchens of the Palace of Doxe, which they'd repurposed to burn the large quantities of bodies. She explained the situation to me, then handed me the assignment and a change of clothing."

The context is not strictly necessary, but Wrathion thinks it helps give weight to why he'd accepted it. He was injured, had just been chased for three days and was now watching bodies being burnt. In comparison, the job seemed quite appealing.

Anduin stills again as Wrathion begins his explanation, his expression pinching as the other man continues his way through it. After a three-day flight from danger, to wind up in such a place...

It is no wonder that Wrathion would have accepted the assignment, as opposed to the alternative. Lost, injured, alone and afraid -- he had likely needed something to latch onto, and this assignment had been exactly that.

If Anduin had been another man, he might have sworn. As it is, he squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment, letting out a long, slow breath before opening them again.

"The Merchant has contacted me for an assignment," Anduin says, which he knows he has explained already but it is context for why he has asked. "What do you know of donna Rigarda?"

Rigarda? Wrathion tilts his head, considering it.

"Supposedly an associate of the Merchant in some way. High up in Taravast society, and therefore powerful. Played at being neutral during the political games. Old friend of Bonaccorso. Two other likes ourselves were tasked with taking weapons on her behalf to the undead lords as payment, a mission they did not complete. I believe she had them taken in turn."

So, ruthless and powerful noblewoman who he suspects likes games. Is that information enough?

Anduin turns away to gaze into the unlit fireplace as he considers this new information.

An associate of the Merchant. Two others were tasked with taking weapons to the undead lords on her behalf. Anduin's mind works quickly to piece these facts together. A mission...

"A mission given to them by the Merchant as well?" Anduin asks, troubled. He does not like the conclusions that he is drawing. He understands that he does owe Wrathion an explanation as to what exactly is going on, and he will. He's just trying to gather what information he can before it all gets -- convoluted.

"My impression is it came from her directly, not from the Merchant, but it was before my arrival -- you'd need to get specifics from people who were here at the time."

This is leading somewhere, though, and Wrathion feels curious and wary both -- the whole... situation seems one ready to explode any minute. Anduin has, seemingly, been drawn into that plot. There's no other reason he'd ask such specific questions about it.

Anduin nods, absently. He supposes that makes at least a little more sense, all things considered, although he will need to know.

"Yes," he agrees. "Do you know their names? I will need to speak with them. I need to know exactly what was said, everything I can about this mission of theirs." It would seem that they did not agree to its terms themselves, and he would like to understand why himself.

He turns back to Wrathion, his expression drawn tight and dark.

"If the Merchant was once close with donna Rigarda, it would seem they have had a falling out."

"I didn't say close," Wrathion corrects lightly, "I said an associate. It makes sense that he might have turned on her, though. He and Karsa are both from places that have suffered under the undead armies, and if Rigarda was arming them then she is complicit in the death and destruction they caused."

He shifts his weight, unfolds one arm to rub at his bead thoughtfully.

"What I'm uncertain of is how much he knew coming in. If he only brought us here to reach the beacons, or if he knew something of all this from the start and we've been pieces in a long play for revenge. Perhaps it was always his intention to travel here and meddle, and we simply arrived at a convenient time."

It seems quite the coincidence if the Merchant knew nothing, but that doesn't entirely rule it out as a possibly. Wrathion fishes in his pocket, and dangling the communication pendant.

"Karsa gave me this, so I'm sure you're aware of the possibility the Merchant may be able to intercept messages sent on it. That said, it is a quick way to contact everyone who shares our circumstances. The two taken by Rigarda -- I believe free now -- were called Shen Qingqiu and Eleven. I've never spoken to either of them personally. There may be others who have experience with her, and if you have a job that involves Rigarda it might not hurt to fish for information among others using this. You don't even have to tell them why, at first, if you choose not to."

He pauses, considering Anduin, then pockets the pendant again.

"Can I ask what the job is?"

Anduin considers the pendant, nodding slowly as he thinks. Shen Qingqiu and Eleven. He could just send them messages directly, but it would raise suspicions as to why he is doing so, especially if he is choosing not to reveal his motives from the start. Which he is not, because he would like to reach his own conclusions before he takes action. He understands that there might be some more foolhardy people out there who might just take his assignment and run with it himself, which is hardly ideal either.

The question, of course, is that if he does not reveal his motives, then what does he say? How does he phrase this in such a way that he does not give too much away, while also asking enough so that he finds the answers he needs? He wishes he were better at subterfuge, in this moment. Though he supposes that he does have Wrathion here, to help guide his hand.

Anduin bites his lip for a moment, hesitating not because he does not want to admit the truth to Wrathion, but because he already feels as though he is in this too deep.

"The Merchant would like for me to apprehend and kill donna Rigarda," Anduin replies. "He claims that such an act would 'restore justice'."

Interesting.

Wrathion lofts an eyebrow at the answer, but he doesn't offer much more than that. It isn't surprising, particularly, that the Merchant would feel anger at her after all that has happened.

"I'm sure for him it would."

For Anduin, however, no doubt this is more complicated. His hand drops from his beard, folding again neatly as he studies the priest.

"Apprehend at least no doubt we can agree on."

That part, surely, Anduin has no quarrel with -- she has committed war crimes here, and must answer for them. Perhaps focusing on the first step rather than the second might make this easier.

Anduin lets out a long, slow breath before turning back to Wrathion and offering him a nod.

"I spoke to Karsa," Anduin says. "I do not know if she and the Merchant are from the same place, but she told me that she was from Sa-Hareth. From what I understand, the city was under siege from two factions of the undead, one they were able to defeat, and one they were not. Karsa, at least, cannot blame Rigarda herself. She told me that she would have paid any price she could to avoid such an end."

He studies Wrathion's face for a long moment, understanding just how close this discussion may be coming to Wrathion's own past mistakes. He wants to be mindful of that in this conversation, but he also wants to be fair to the situation at hand.

"I do not agree with her actions. And I do believe she should face consequences for them. I do not believe that it is fair that others should suffer for the sake of one city's freedom. But at what cost?" Anduin frowns deeply, clearly very troubled by the choice. "Even if she is only apprehended, what should happen to the city -- to the people of Taravast?"

Edited (repetition bad) 2021-12-12 17:23 (UTC)

Wrathion studies Anduin thoughtfully, silent a long moment.

"I think," he says finally, "people have had quite enough of dragons deciding what cost should be paid for the safety of their homes."

This conversation is not... easy territory, there are too many pitfalls. Wrathion isn't certain their tentative truce can handle them, not when he doesn't even know if he's been forgiven his past indiscretions yet.

Anduin holds Wrathion's gaze for the moment of silence that passes in between them, and he opens his mouth for a second to argue -- he values Wrathion's opinion, he has brought this to Wrathion, he does want to know what he thinks.

But... He supposes he already knows, in a way, the decision that Wrathion might make. Or at least, he knows what decisions Wrathion has made in the past. It isn't fair on Wrathion to assume he might make the same mistakes again -- but. Anduin is still suffering from the after-effects of the decisions that Wrathion had made. He cannot rightly assume he would not make them again as well.

Taking in a deep breath to steady himself, Anduin crosses his arms and turns to face the unlit fireplace. Fine, that's. Fine. A decision he needs to make on his own. A decision that will doubtless have consequences that might affect the lives of innocent people, no matter which way he decides.

"It feels as though there has been some mistake," Anduin says, addressing the wall before him. "To bring such an assignment to me..."

"Admittedly, you would not be my first choice for an assassination."

Is that comforting or not? Wrathion has no idea. He hesitates, trying to search for the right thing to say.

"That is not a bad thing."

That feels important to note. Not being suitable for an assassination is not, in actual fact, a flaw. It isn't some sort of mark against Anduin's character.

The line of Anduin's shoulders tenses, relaxing slightly only when Wrathion speaks up again to specify his second point.

Not a bad thing.

Anduin turns to glance over his shoulder at him, meeting his eyes for a long moment before his expression softens slightly. He does appreciate Wrathion's support, uncertain and hesitant though it may be. This all feels -- a bit much. As if the whole scenario that he has stumbled into was not weighty enough as it is, but this...

"I am grateful that you think so," he replies. "I cannot say for certain how this will play out, in the end. If I should fail..."

"And what do you term a failure?"

A leading question. He gives Anduin a moment to consider that before continuing:

"If you actively try to kill her and she escapes, that would be a failure. If you choose to apprehend her and then do something else, that is making a choice to not follow someone else's plan. You could call it a failure to do as you were told, and in that case we both know you are no stranger to disobedience."

So really, is that so terrible in the end?

Anduin thinks they both know there is a very slim chance he will wind up with the intention of murdering her himself. The other scenario that Wrathion lays out, however...

He flicks his eyes away for a moment, somewhat self-conscious at how Wrathion has called him out in such a way. Although -- he isn't wrong. If Anduin should determine that this is the right course of action, no matter what the Merchant should want...

"What will he do?" Anduin asks. "If he finds out that I have not done as he asked?"

"I'm afraid I'm quite done dabbling in the timeways. The future was never my flight's burden to begin with, and it seems better it stay that way."

So whatever the consequences of Anduin's actions, they are hidden to Wrathion. He cannot particularly guess, either. The Merchant is not someone Anduin knows personally. He is restrained, mysterious, all personality traits Wrathion quite respects but which do make him difficult to get a read on.

Anduin turns back towards the wall before him. He supposes that it had been a foolish dream to assume he would not fall into some burden of responsibility here in this place. It seems to follow him wherever he travels, no matter where he goes. To assume he might be free of such things in such a place as this...

He cannot blame Wrathion for his hesitation and unwillingness to reassure what he cannot say for certain. All the same, Anduin can feel the weight of the world settling down around his shoulders, even here. One woman's life... At what cost?

"I will pose the question of Rigarda's character to the network," he decides aloud. "There are those among us who have been here longer than you and I. Perhaps they will have more to say on the matter."

Well, that is a start he supposes.

"And what will you do if they declare her character without fault? What will you do, in turn, if they declare it corrupt and beyond saving? What will you do if the result is evenly split?"

Just something to consider. Gathering more information is wise, and something he would encourage, but knowing what you intend to do with it is worthwhile too. Otherwise it can just be an endless stalling tactic -- continuing to research more until you run out of time.

Anduin turns once again to frown at Wrathion over his shoulder.

"I am capable of receiving advice and devising my own opinion from it," he replies, his words coming a little harder than they might otherwise have done, but he doesn't necessarily appreciate the implication otherwise.

Forcing himself to take in a breath, he turns away again. It isn't fair to take his stress out on Wrathion, he just wishes... He wishes he knew more about what to do. That there were more of a clear path to follow, instead of muddy water all around him.

"Someone will suffer no matter what choice is made," he says, at last. "The people of Taravast. Rigarda. Myself. It is not an easy decision."

Wrathion meets Anduin's gaze easily, lets him move himself past the outburst. It matters little, in the end.

"I only meant to suggest," he says finally, "that you also need a plan for how you'd do any of this at all. That way you can also gather the information you need to enact it."

Disguise? Force? Sneaking in? Luring her out? If he had one in mind, he could also ask questions to help him form that plan. Wrathion is trying to help, not pass judgment on the choice.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Anduin feels a bone-deep weariness settle around himself. Wrathion is right, of course. He does need a plan... Is there even really a choice in the matter? He cannot blindly act on the Merchant's whims. What would he have done, in Rigarda's place? Perhaps not the exact same actions, to be certain. He would not have been able to live with himself knowing what he had done, the price he had paid. Yet he cannot fault her himself for wanting to spare her people suffering.

"I am told she is holding herself up in one of the smaller palaces of the gentry, with eight men at her guard," he says. He takes a few steps forward, pacing the length of the wall as he continues, "If I wish to take any action at all, then I must know whether I will have anyone at my back."

Eight men. Wrathion lets out a little hum of thought.

"If they're not magic users, we could handle that easily."

Since, of course, Wrathion has his back. It feels as if that should be obvious, without question, but the way Anduin says 'anyone' throws doubt on that. Better, he thinks, to gently draw attention to his position. There's no need to make a production out of it, but Anduin needs to understand he will support him. Just because he's not offering his opinion on the better choice here doesn't mean he won't help.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 10

[closed]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject