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[Glade 122] Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Tue May 31, 2022 2:20 pm
by Imogen
Glade 45, 122
The late Glade-wind came in from the western mountains, cutting through the warm, sleepy fog which massed around the High City. It wasn't particularly cold or biting, but it was chill, an energetic tingle against the exposed skin which the warming months had tricked the people into showing. It was a calming wind, which buffed the clouds from the sky and left nothing but the jewel-studded vault of night, the majesty of the stars fading slowly into view as the magenta sunset bled away from the horizon. It was an evening to set a poet's mind racing, a lover's heart beating; it was a night which could have calmed a raging warrior and turned them into a momentary ascetic.
Naturally, Imogen Ward was inside, cleaning.
There are only two really good times to clean a well-trafficked building; before anyone gets there, or after everyone leaves. The Theater had to be swept, mopped and de-litterfied daily, but it also required occasional deep cleanings, where every surface could be thoroughly cleansed and polished, every cushion washed and aired, and all of the hard-to-spot mold and tarnish identified and removed. Imogen preferred to do the deep cleaning in morning installments, to give herself time for Coven business in the evening, but there was no Coven business for her until she returned from her business trip to Ecith. Thus, the logic followed with happy simplicity, evening cleaning was to be preferred.
One of the intangible perks of her position was that Imogen had no direct supervisor, and could proceed as she liked. Though the janitor was famously oblivious to people, obstacles, direct conversation, fires, military coups, wars and apocalypse, Imogen was almost preternaturally attuned to the presence of grime, and could pick out a spot or stain from a hundred paces. Thus, she was left to clean as she desired; and thus, she chose to sweep the plaza directly outside of the Pfenning's great main entry as the sunset.
The Sunsinger smiled as the cool breeze worked its way through her hair, evaporating the sweat on the back of her neck and tugging at her uniform jacket. The leaves, crumpled papers and discarded tobacco products were light on the ground today, but she chose to sweep slowly anyway, enjoying the dying light playing upon the river which separated poor and powerful in the city. Well-to-do humans hustled past the plaza sporadically, wealthy traders and military officers trading searching glances.
The nobs had been like that for weeks. Imogen understood that these were men and women who lived and died on their position, but nobody seemed ready to make assumptions about how they fit in Kelgarde's new order. Each nod, each doffed hat, each furtive look- they were constantly trying to take the measure of those around them. And so, of course, they were really trying to gauge their own positions in society. After all, if Kane could simply disappear in a day, if all of his closest supporters could be killed or change their stripes so quickly, who was to say that their "family's mansion" or fancy townhouse stood on anything more than sand?
It truly seemed like an exhausting way to live.
As the stars bloomed overhead, Imogen hummed a jaunty tune which she had heard a season past, in some new master's production or another. She wasn't a professional, but her singing voice was clear and reasonably pleasant,.
"The sand slipped through the hourglass... she said softly to her broom, "And the hour of the wolves draws near at last."
It had been some tawdry ballad, a production where every piece had to be prophesy and the main couple had to die at the end, but she had liked it nonetheless because in the ending wolves killed every member of the supporting cast with absolutely no justification. It wasn't a good plot twist, of course, but the world was full of good plots. It was refreshing, to her mind, to see a story which eschewed all reason in favor of having the composer's weirdest fever dream kill every character.
"And life was good, and the sun was high..." Not terribly appropriate for sundown, but you couldn't have it all. Speaking of which, she couldn't remember how the rest of the verse went. "Ah, well. Bugger that, then."
~~~
Re: Placeholder Glade 122: Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Tue May 31, 2022 2:21 pm
by Rickter
Whistling in the Dark Glade 45th, 122nd Year, A.o.S.
One thing that the wolf needed to learn was to simply mind his own fucking business for once. In leui of his quiet arrival within the city he'd taken to discreetly poke around, practicing ways of keeping his identity here hidden for the time being. He had to admit that Naila had a very handy way of going about doing it, where as Elinora was more simple with the clever alterations. Needless to say, the green-eyed half-breed practically about blown his own cover, when he'd decided to pay a visit to the theatre here in Zaichaer.
What he'd decided to watch that late afternoon was the showing of The Black Wedding as it were, a tribute to the good Brenner Dornkirk for his Heroism in the North. Or so it had been advertised to say the least, needless to say, it was a shoddy piece of work in the wolf's own mind. Enough to merely piss him off when he watched the 'heroic capture' of the northern menace. The air might've gone a touch colder that night around the theatre, but, needless to say Rickter overcame his personal prejudices and lingered within for a time. He wanted to wait however long was necessary before he wound up alone, able to mellow out his feelings while the air cleared his thoughts. Regulatory breathing helped dull down the anger, but that still didn't mean his mind stood on a razor's edge.
It wasn't until he cleared out the theatre in a Zaichaeri trenchcoat over his shirt and suspenders, that the green-eyed fool heard whisper within the wind that greeted him. The cleaning lady looked to be busy near the front area of the main lobby, sweeping up the litter patrons prior had left in the wake of their timely exit. Seeing a few of the cigs that were lying around the wolf pulled one of his own out from the pack in his pocket, the match struck by the nail of his thumb before he lit one up on his way out. Before he could finish with a puff though a sharp ringing pierced his thoughts along the way, his mind momentarily ached by the receding pain before he exhaled.
Beyond the light purple plume of smoke he released, his attention fell back onto the cleaner that stood literally several feet away now. Listening to her song he couldn't help but wonder, and eventually realize, that he had heard that voice from somewhere else before.
And then he remembered that goddamned card from his dreams.
"The sand slipped through the hourglass... And the hour of the wolves draws near at last. "And life was good, and the sun was high..." She hummed lowly to herself and for a moment, Rickter couldn't help but feel genuinely sad in response. Mostly because it reminded him of his beloved Alpha, and her tendencies to sing when they first met a few years ago. Damn... Why did Rickter think of that now? He utterly missed that of his healer, even at such a strange timing like now, but that didn't stop him from focusing on Imogen when she seemed to trail off. "Ah, well. Bugger that, then."
"Can't remember the verse then?" The wolf lowly inquired as he looked to Imogen, the illusory enchantments that kept his identity hidden worn away entirely now. They were alone after all, and unless some other cleaner would come about, Rickter didn't feel the need to hide from Imogen of all people.
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Telion" "Hannah" "Patrick"
"Every side attacks you when you don't pick sides."
Re: [Glade 122] Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Sun Jul 10, 2022 12:55 pm
by Imogen
"It seems to have slipped my mi-" Imogen said as she turned, then paused as her mind registered the details of the man standing behind her. "Well I'll be damned. Mr. Maze, in the flesh?"
The Janitor of the Pfenning was famously bad at recognizing human (or Rathari, for that matter) faces, but that was of no moment; she could feel the connection which had been established in that strange dream a month ago, an unconscious pull which terminated in the nearby figure. It was, to be sure, the most familiar she had ever felt with someone whom she had never met.
Imogen pulled back to get a better look at the man. He looked like he was dressed to avoid suspicious eyes, which isn't exactly how you want to look while avoiding suspicious eyes, but it seemed to have worked for him so far. She'd never learned the art of reading aura, but he seemed to be hale and healthy, or as healthy as the smaller races ever looked. Given how poorly he had seemed in her dream, such a recovery was nothing short of miraculous, which she supposed was the standard when you received the direct intervention of a deity.
Looking at Rickter, however, reminded her that he was a wanted man, almost certainly subject to execution if captured. It didn't seem likely that any of the soldiers patrolling the streets would recognize his face, but they had been stopping people for random inspections in the past week or so, probably to make their officers look better in Kelgarde's eyes. No reason to take any risks, not with the servant's entry a dozen yards away.
"What an unexpected pleasure to see you here-I thought for sure that I'd have to go to Kalzasi again." Imogen slotted her broom into the Pfenning's maintenance trolley and took it with one hand, "C'mon, let's go inside for a bit. I can make you tea, if you'd like, or perhaps a brandy to warm you up?" Imogen patted the man on the shoulder, gesturing towards the Theater's side door.
"You're looking much improved, Mr. Maze. No symptoms of corruption, I take it? Sudden veins of pure shadow, scales of darkness on your skin, a desire to see the realms of light plunged into night eternal, that sort of thing?"
Re: Placeholder Glade 122: Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Thu Jul 14, 2022 1:01 am
by Rickter
Whistling in the Dark Glade 45th, 122nd Year, A.o.S.
It might've actually came as a surprise when in just a single moment, the Ork had recognized who he was just by appearance alone. She had clearly remembered that night well then, even after a couple months time had passed since. Still he nodded as she seemed to take in his appearance, appraising him for something that he hadn't quite caught on just yet. It was honestly strange enough that he didn't feel so guarded toward her, at least not as reserved as he normally would be when it came to interacting with strangers he barely knew. If anything Imogen knew more about him than he did her, and that was just from a single night spent fending off a corruptive dark force.
"Yeah, actually, it's pretty ironic... Had some business to attend to here." He remarked in regards to her potential visit to Kalzasi, all just so she'd have to find him again? He honestly didn't expect anyone, from that night much less in general, to go looking for him without good reasoning behind it. Those he left behind were likely wanting to pursue him, but he made it clear he also didn't want to be followed by them either. At the invitation to go inside for some tea or brandy, the wolf tilted his head at her still unreasonably kind approach to him even now. That was when he realized it, though, that there was actually something else to Imogen he'd never noticed before.
She carried herself in a certain way and always maintained a demeanor of herself, which to a degree fascinated him, but now that he'd had the chance to actually meet her in person... He could just tell there was more to her than what was beneath the surface. "Okay, sure, I could use a stiff drink." He agreed with a drag from the goblinweed cigarette between his lips, the purple smoke soon billowing out his nostrils as he finished what was left. In flicking the cherry onto the ground away from the cleaner's workspace, Rickter smothered it with his boot before giving the girl a mildly content stare.
It was as they approached the side door she'd waved toward she'd pointed out his health, and how he seemed to be in better spirits than when they had their first encounter. "None of that, no..." But a grave reminder of what it costed him loomed in his eyes, as those blue orbs remained laden on the floor rather than Imogen. "Just a chill in my bones that hasn't gone away. So far..." He tried to remain causal about it as possible, though, still found it difficult to mask the solemn undertone in his voice.
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Telion" "Hannah" "Patrick"
"Every side attacks you when you don't pick sides."
Re: [Glade 122] Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Thu Jul 14, 2022 1:07 pm
by Imogen
Imogen led Rickter quickly through the side door, then made an immediate right into a dark, empty lounge room. It was a small room, little more than a couple of overstuffed and upholstered chairs around a table, with a dark grate for a fire. She gestured for the man to make himself comfortable, then secured the door using the large ring of keys hanging loosely from the trolley.
"Business here, is it?"
She could hardly scoff at a wanted man racing to the heart of his enemy's dominion; in small form, that was what most of her clients did. If people were always cautious and avoided such obvious danger, she would make no more money than any honest wage.
Imogen knelt by the grate for just a moment--there was already starter and coalwood, so she only needed to open the gas for a moment and click the ignition to get a small fire going--then made her way to the little bar tucked away at the side of the room, which opened up to reveal a small mirrored stand and a platform of bottles. Not being much of a bartender herself, she poured a couple glasses of spirits; a bit of brandy, a small cup of whisky, and a spot of rum from Sangen. "Here you go, take your pleasure. Well, I'm happy to hear that there's no wicked urges or the like. Not that I'm a physician personally, you understand, but I've heard stories about possession by evil spirits and such. Such things do happen, you know."
Actually she'd spent months last year reading stories about evil ghosts, and had developed some extremely peculiar preconceptions about it, but that was of no moment in the present. She didn't even know if his affliction was actually ghost-related.
The Orkhan woman finished setting up the little lounge and sat down herself, the armchair squeaking uncomfortably beneath her weight. "Ghrmph. I'm sorry if I seem a bit over-enthusiastic, but prior to... er, Mr. Tiberius' invitation, I'd never had a client in my own dreams. It really felt like leaving the job half-done to close that file without even knowing whether you'd actually recovered."
Perhaps it was strange to worry about the health of someone you'd never met in a dream you had once which was resolved by an act of god, but Imogen prided herself as meticulous in such things.
Re: Placeholder Glade 122: Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2022 7:57 pm
by Rickter
Whistling in the Dark Glade 45th, 122nd Year, A.o.S.
Following the helpful little cleaner inside Rickter found himself surprised, having not expected to be shown into what clearly seemed to be a minor room serving for breaks. Thankfully with just Imogen here they wouldn't have to worry about anybody else waltzing in on them, which, did give Rickter some small peace of mind when he walked in and stood warily for a few minutes. His claim of business didn't seem to phase her at all really, a curiosity he noted as he gradually loosened in the shoulders a bit.
Seeing her setup the room as it were he watched as the flames clicked to life, amazed at how such technology can exist without the makeup of magic involved. Truly. Zaichaer was a marvel like that. By the time he heard her pouring out drinks, he finally allowed himself the capacity to sit down, and humbly accepted the middle drink on the tray. He could smell the smokey brew from the richly dark brown he swirled in the cup, the wolf groaning lightly as he felt the burn of the whiskey wash down his throat. "Cheers." He briefly toasted before placing the cup down on the table, admittedly intrigued by Imogen's continued show of etiquette.
"Aye, down in the Warrens you'd meet some nasty spirits. Them fuckers don't even know the meanin' of the word consent." He mused to more or less deflect from the situation itself, hoping to avoid treading too deeply on a subject still fresh as the burn on his soul. Hearing the bastard's name though caused the room to chill just a little, the fires cackling within the grate suddenly dwindling as he kept a steady breath. He bore no fault for Imogen and the outlook she had on that whole sordid affair, allowing a practical ghost to infiltrate his soul just so others could be roped into what was clearly a dangerous situation.
Nevertheless, he still gave her a soft smile, appreciative to a degree, as the air in the room didn't seem as chilly as it had been moments ago. "Rest assured, I've recovered, no short of a miracle as it were." He promised before rolling a sleeve up on his right arm, revealing what few veins would show underneath his skin to her. "See? No evil juju coursin' through my veins. No more 'ghost' tryin' to run the show either." He mused with some valiant effort at best, determined to keep what residual traces of hate his forebearer made buried deep. Yet he couldn't help but wonder, for someone as concerned and motivated as Imogen was, what exactly gave her reason to shelter him even now. He'd studied her behavior for the past few minutes, understanding there was a candor about her that he just didn't fathom.
Now he felt sure, as kind and welcoming as Imogen was, there had to be something more underneath that surface. "You're not just a cleaner, aren't you?... Imogen?" He finally inquired with the raise of his eyebrow, before raising his whiskey up to sip from the container.
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Telion" "Hannah" "Patrick"
"Every side attacks you when you don't pick sides."
Re: [Glade 122] Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Wed Aug 03, 2022 7:19 pm
by Imogen
Imogen Ward took a sip from a teacup- she hadn't made any tea, she just thought it was a fine way to drink brandy- and raised it in mock celebration at Rickter's final question.
"Perceptive!" A deadly insult coming from her, though she wouldn't have understood it as such, "But you have it exactly backwards, Mr. Maze. I'm a janitor of such high caliber that I can see messes coming before they're even made. And here, I see an enemy of the state wandering around Zaichaer without a hint of an escort, dressed like a man who doesn't want to attract suspicion- and that looks, to me, like a mess in the making."
The Orkhan woman took another sip of brandy from her teacup, then drained the cup. She returned the empty vessel to the table, softly enough that the cheap bone cup did not even rattle in its saucer. Maybe this was too much of a hard sell technique; she didn't want to make it seem as though her concerns weren't genuine, after all. Well, nothing for it.
"Sorry, makes me sound like I'm a drake-oil salesman. I've no doubt that you can handle yourself, but here in Zaichaer, we have something of a tradition to avoid unnecessary strife between visiting mages and the Order of Reconciliation."
Imogen pointed to the far wall, above the mantle and small grate of the gas fireplace, where an enormous round shield was hanging. Hanging now, at any rate; it certainly hadn't been there a minute ago when they sat down. In response to her gesture, silver fire blossomed at the bottom of the circular armament, then ran up the sides, limning the shield in argent hues. As the fire met folds in the metal, it ran inward, light moving across the surface of the weapon like circuitry, until it hit the center, where it illuminated a sigil consisting of a sunburst and stylized sword. The temperature in the room grew warmer, and the atmosphere seemed to shift as the magical fire's anentropic properties radiated softly across the small space.
"Now, I do not know what your business in the High City is, Mr. Maze, but I strongly recommend to you a consultation with the Sunsinger Order beforehand. I think you will find that whatever you're trying to do will go much more smoothly with a few professionals to hand."
Re: Placeholder Glade 122: Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2022 10:47 pm
by Rickter
Whistling in the Dark Glade 45th, 122nd Year, A.o.S.
Admiteddly the wolf couldn't hide a brief grin from the response he received, never unamused by the way Imogen answered an inquiry to say the least. He was actually a bit fond of her come to think of it, which did surprise him a little, but remained a fact he kept to himself nonetheless. For a janitor Imogen sure had a way of defining her career, although, Rickter wouldn't never honestly put much stock in such duties being a career...
Regardless, he considered her words well as he overtly nodded before sipping down more of the whiskey. Feeling a bit more amicable now thanks to good spirits, Rickter also gave a few soft grunts when he nodded in response to the Ork. She was ever the curious one but from what he could tell, she was also the sort that he needed to be aware of. Details were a thing with this woman, he noted, and that led him to wonder if her peculiarity stemmed from that in particular. Of course, he did divert his gaze for a moment when implied he might be a mess maker here, a bit of an accusation the wolf felt quite capable of living up to if given the chance. Thankfully though, the wolf looked back at her with an innocent smirk at best.
"Well shit, sorry if I ever gave the wrong impression." The smirk dwindled a smidge but the dry humor that clung to his tone lingered, eyes still curiously on Imogen as he listened to her remark on tradition here within the city. Something he would've rather upheld as of right now, honestly, as he didn't plan on getting caught by any of the bastards here anytime soon. When the cleaner pointed at the round shield used as a wall ornament over the fireplace, the wolf's eyes briefly narrowed as he suspected her up to something, before moving his shoulders to turn and gaze at the decorum itself. The wolf never actually noticed it there before, a fact that went nearly lost on him, until he furrowed his brow to glance back at the Ork.
A fire was then born around the shield before it's surface lit like a beacon in the night, the symbol seen burning on the surface a reminder of the group he'd come here to seek. Also the ones who ironically jumped him outside the city, but he hadn't had a chance to fully discuss all that with their leader just yet. "Naori's tits," He regarded with a minor grin that bordered the casual side of his nature, "you lot are everywhere in this city."
Rickter had to admit he seriously underestimated the tenacity of the mages here, thinking that they were all just hiding out somewhere in the shadows of this city. Now though he was beginning to realize just how integrated they were into the society, keeping their abilities and talents a secret while they blended in with the public. Oh, he was amused to be sure, so much that he couldn't help but lean in his chair, and rest his head on his knuckles as he chuckled a little. "Well, I have recently found access to the Market." He referred as he reflected on his trip there literally yesterday, having found one of the entrances with Lyra when he'd sought it out with her.
"If our Sunsinger friends are in that part of town, then which place should I go to if I wanted to see them?" He inquired rather humbly still with his head leaned into his hand, curious if Imogen might now something about the door that he was told to find. "And do you know anything about this 'door locked between moments'?" He added with the raise of an eyebrow, waiting to see what she would say.
| ! | Message from: Aegis |
Following this viewtopic.php?p=17529#p17529
Imogen would be able to feel something within her leave while in the presence of Rickter. As she did, she felt that deep change within her following the Call awaken. She is now aware that she carried a Piece of Hope within her and that it has now been imparted unto Rickter. In its wake, that Piece of Hope left behind something unique to Imogen, unique to her response to the Call. Imogen is now fully aware of this change. She is also no longer able to feel the direction of Talon or Rickter.
With 1 Piece of Hope each now, a Light Bond has rebuilt itself between Rickter and Talon.
Imogen has acquired the ability to transform into, and back from, a fully, functioning skeleton. This is done by momentarily meditating and focusing on skeletal things. At novice Meditation, the transformation takes approximately an hour and is uncomfortable. Increasing meditation decreases the time for transformation and the discomfort. While in this form, Imogen has all the strengths and weaknesses expected of a mobile skeleton, and has access to Calcium Communication, and is thus able to universally communicate with other skeletons. It should be noted that the Skeleton that Imogen takes on is not her own, but rather Rickter’s in his human form.
Upgrades: If Imogen ever achieves Mastery in Meditation or develops a formal Bond with Rickter, contact a moderator and direct them toward Imogen's Character Secrets thread.
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"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Telion" "Hannah" "Patrick"
"Every side attacks you when you don't pick sides."
Re: [Glade 122] Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2022 5:46 pm
by Imogen
Imogen listened to Rickter's inquiry, and tried to hear the story he hadn't quite said beyond it. Already run into a Sunsinger, but he was traipsing about the streets with no escort? Not good, not good at all. The Order would have a field day if such a powerful Kalzasian mage were caught in the heart of the High City in the midst of war.
"I can tell you precisely where to go- in fact, I'll do you one better." Imogen stood and approached the small desk in the corner, retrieving paper, pen, and a small well. "I'll write you an identification, make the introductions a bit easier on everyone."
The Sunsinger began to scratch out a short note, listening to the rest of Rickter's inquiry.
"You're best off approaching them at the Market. Just stop in through the junction and look for the sign to Coven Way. There should be someone on duty at East House you can talk to, maybe one of the Captains. Look for the big banner with the sun on it." She could have recommended he stay at the Sanctuary of Twilight, but then she'd need to charge him- and frankly, she didn't suppose the risk of a few days on his own was that significant, not given the present chaos in the Presidium's ranks.
"Door locked between moments?" She'd never heard such an expression, and she was sure that she'd remember seeing something like that. "Can't help you with that one, but you're better off asking the officers. We're not that big on spreading tales down the ranks. In fact-" Imogen looked up from her scribbling at the Pact shield shining on the wall, "Between you and me, they don't even tell us how that works." Thus reminded, Imogen reached up with her right hand and swept it across her field of view, wiping away the Pact shield and dematerializing it in one motion. The weapon hardly disquieted her as it rejoined her soul, having accumulated very little pain in the minute it had spent ornamenting the wall.
Truthfully, Imogen wasn't all that curious about the Nova fire. The important thing was seeing the jobs done, and done professionally. The captains and the sages could worry about the whys and wherefores of it all.
"Well, I hope for your sake this door didn't get blown up with the Sanctuary of the Sunstar. Okay, here's something for you."
Glade 45, 122
To whom it may concern;
The bearer of this notife is one Mr. Rickter Maze, late of Kalzasi, who has presented himself to me on the date above. I do confirm upon my word that I am convinfed of his identity, and have ruled out all illusion or artifife.
Sworn and affirmed,
Corporal Ward
Imogen had drawn a small marking or sigil at the bottom, a small starburst. As she passed the note to Rickter, however, she stopped, blinking.
"What on earth was... did you feel that?"
Re: Placeholder Glade 122: Whistling In The Dark [Rickter]
Posted: Sat Sep 03, 2022 1:58 am
by Rickter
Whistling in the Dark Glade 45th, 122nd Year, A.o.S.
Rreally, if the world were full of much more helpful people such as Imogen, why, Rickter would have honestly probably been on his merry way after Talon by now. Though he had to be honest and admit with himself, he hadn't ever expected someone like the cleaner to be as resourceful as she was. She definitely made it easy to pass off as a simple cleaner before, which led the wolf to wonder just how much practice goes into that kind of lifestyle. Daily. Such things seemed exhausting to the wolf, to say the least, but here in Zaichaer, Imogen was probably just one of the minority within the city. Dante's sympathy for them was well received, as even Rickter could only want freedom from a life filled with oppression.
Thankfully though he never had to, but Kalzasi wasn't without its own faults either. "Bloody hell, you're already doing me a solid." He remarked with a minor press of his brow, suspicious that the lady might indeed require a token of appreciation in return. All this standing in good faith couldn't likely come cheap or free, not when Rickter had his inclinations that Imogen knew more about him than she originally let on. It didn't take just a trip into his own soul to figure out the fact he was technically the enemy here, a mage modest renown within the north no less, to understand that he was quite a valuable target for the Inquisition here.
Still he took her advice to heart and consider the directions she gave, mindful of the note she had written before handing it over to him. Honestly, with just a brief glance, he was rather curious at how she wrote the message. But, however foreign mag guilds or factions worked wasn't his antics to process! "East house, big sun banner." He reiterated to show that he'd listened to the lady's instruction, the faint smile on his lips borderline friendly when he slightly tilted his head at her.
She didn't seem to know anything about the door he inquired about, which led him to believe that sharing the key in question remained pointless. For the time being at least. Someone else would clearly have the answers he sought, though from what he could tell, it would have to be one of the higher ranks from the way she expressed their discretion. "I see." At the remark of a sanctuary of some sort being blown up or apart, the wolf raised his eyebrows in response to the statement. As that would be seen as bad if such a thing did happen, considering the importance of the key when Briathor IV gave it to him.
The wolf didn't even seem to spare a second look when the shield dematerialized, he was a well-experienced Reaver to understand Pact weaponry at its fundamental core. Needless to say when he noticed that Imogen seemed caught off guard by something, a heavyweight slightly lifted in his chest as he felt a moment of warmth deep within his soul. If only for a moment. The event spurred a reaction with the element of surprise, however, such warmth did not linger long enough to thaw at the ice within his soul. "What? No I," He quickly deflected from her if only to re-evaluate the experience himself, "I didn't feel anything."
He might've lied there but deep down there rang some resonance of truth, at the surface he felt completely unchanged and therefore, totally oblivious to the truth of the matter. "Thanks for your help, Imogen," He then regarded her with yet another loose smile once he looked at her, "what do I owe ya for all of this?" He'd figured to ask genuinely as he did appreciate the fact she'd gone out of her way, when clearly the least he could do was repay her in whatever transaction she desired from him.
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Telion" "Hannah" "Patrick"
"Every side attacks you when you don't pick sides."