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[misdirection_hex]

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Timeframe: some time in late Solace

[ragweed]

It's a bright, sunshine-y morning some weeks after Kit's fortuitous extraction from the Deep Roads, and while his injured leg has made much progress, it still isn't fully healed. A week ago, this hadn't troubled him too much; but now, knowing that he'd committed to accompanying that weird Arcane Advisor on her quest of dubious purpose into the Kocari Wilds... maybe he's rethinking his choice to forego healing magic.

It's hard to point his finger on why, exactly, he goes looking for Vandelin to solve this particular problem for him. Might have something to do with the fact that out of all the mage healers and physickers who have seen to Kit's leg in one fashion or another, Vandelin was the only one who didn't argue with him when he said 'no' to magical healing.

A little asking around the library gets him pointed in the right general direction. Doing his best not to let his crutch clatter too loudly as he limp along, he peers into each range of stacks until he spots the elf's reedy, serious profile, and stops. He clears his throat, hoping to get his attention without having to disrupt any nearby researchers more than he already has.

[misdirection_hex]

Having finally cajoled his way back into the librarians' good graces--or least, gotten them to let him back into the room at all--Vandelin's making up for lost research time. So absorbed in he in his reading that he doesn't actually notice Kit until that ahem.

When he does, he breaks into a smile, despite the mages in the vicinity now glowering at them (through no fault of Kit's at all; Vandelin just doesn't have any leeway left at all to be on anything but his best, quietest behavior. He does not care.)

"What's new, Kit?"

Timeframe: some time in early August

[minrathousian]

Life in a prison cell is stifling and demoralizing, but at least at night as he sleeps, Atticus can escape it for a little while. In the Fade, he is free, and the entirety of it is a canvas spread out before his fingers.

He passes some time in his own dreams, making waterfalls from starlight and islands of gemstones, but the satisfaction he derives from this simple bit of alteration doesn't ease his restlessness or agitation. The need in him draws spirits closer, but the whispered offers they make him don't tempt or tantalize; he is old hat at their game, and casts them away with a spell that sends them retreating into the ether.

With a gesture, he shrouds himself, and steps through the Veil, into the dreamscape of a certain elven enchanter.

just...a general cw here for eye gore, I'm so sorry

[misdirection_hex]

Vandelin has dreamt more often about the fall of Hasmal Circle in the past two weeks than he has for the past two years.

The confusion and chaos of the battle had figured prominently in his nightmares for months after his and his fellow rebels had escaped--but there had been worse awaiting them on the long, hostile road to Redcliffe Village, and his dreams of the uprising had gradually been pushed out altogether by darker, bloodier dreams of the fallen throughout the Hinterlands. His mind, determined to torment him, had learned to do far better than reminding him of the defending templars and loyalists all collapsing in magical sleep while he'd ushered the rebels frantically out through the gates--even as he'd looked back at his cousin's prone body on the stone floor, prepared never to lay eyes on him again.

He dreams of empty, hollow eye sockets now, streaming with blood. He dreams of Myr's voice rending the air with bestial screams. Tonight, he dreams himself into a Circle tower where every door and gate is triple-locked, where none of the templars have eyes to track him with, but every one somehow holds his phylactery in hand. He has nothing but his staff and its bladed end, but he knows from experience now that a lock is easier melted off than picked.

He sets to work.

crystal, several days after Anders' AMA, late afternoon;

[faithlikeaseed]

[His tone is composed, even and cheerless.]

Van. Got a moment to talk?

[misdirection_hex]

[That isn't a tone he associates with anything good, coming from Myr. Neutral though it may sound, Van knows when it's meant to cover something that's roiling under the surface. He can only hope it's not his own fault, whatever the topic of discussion is.]

I can make time. What's going on?

note, sometime after they've both spoken to Kit;

[faithlikeaseed]

[The handwriting's not Myr's, so he must've dictated it.]

Heard there's a place in Lowtown claiming they've got authentic Hasmali food.

You interested? My treat.

--Myr

[misdirection_hex]

[He's rather nonplussed when an Inquisition courier hands him the letter--who would be writing to him? Nobody he knows beyond a passing acquaintance is even still talking to him. Maybe it's a mistake, or else just some business correspondence--

--or an olive branch, at which he stares for a long expressionless moment even though nobody's around to see him. His throat feels ever so slightly tight.

If it were anyone else, he would find a piece of paper and write back; now, with that unfamiliar handwriting sending a shiver of guilt down his spine, he knows it would be less than ideal. He reaches for the crystal instead, once he's made absolutely sure his voice sounds even.]

If this place doesn't have dormice, I'm calling the owner a liar.

the same night they reconcile;

[ragweed]

(OOC: Continued from here!)

Kit's house is, as described... more or less a hole in the wall, halfway between Lowtown and Darktown, and by the time they get there, it's definitely dark enough outside that no sensible person would dare be out on the streets in this neighbourhood unless they were sure they could handle themselves in an armed conflict. Which Kit is, naturally. (Someone attempts to mug them; Kit gives the guy a warning punch to the gut and sends him on his way.)

"Well here we are," he says after that harrowing adventure, stopping outside his hovel. "Home sweet--hang on." He approaches the door, gives it a shove, and then sighs when it smacks into someone's leg. "...nnngh--"

"Chuck, not again."

[misdirection_hex]

It is fortunate indeed for their would-be mugger that Kit manages to drive him off before Vandelin can finish working up the hex he's practiced for just such occasions, and probably fortunate as well for their evening plans--it would be a shame to put a damper on them, and Van has to concede to himself after the fact that gleefully fucking someone up with magic probably would. He does not always think of these things when he should.

Even if Kit's place is a dilapidated little hobbit hole, Van is rather enchanted by it. There's something that feels incredibly aspirational about it--having one's own house, an entire house, a sovereign kingdom that one really and truly owns and can't be forced to share with anyone else--

--well. In theory, anyway. He raises an eyebrow at the muffled groan from behind the door. "You've got company already?" he teases, lips quirking in spite of himself.

sending crystal; after the Inquisition arrives in Llomerryn

[ragweed]

[This isn't the first time he's tried to get hold of Vandelin over the past few days; ostensibly, during the worst of their sea voyage after their harrowing escape from the island's sea monsters, he'd checked in, doing his best to stifle his fear for Vandelin's safety. He's not a praying man--who can dwarves pray to but the Stone?--but he'd hoped, desperately, that they'd see land soon.

He's still hoping that when he reaches out now, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.] This a good time to check in? [he asks.]

[misdirection_hex]

[It's certainly a better time to check in than at any point when the ship was en route to Llomerryn, during which time Vandelin was too busy being violently seasick, hiding his frequent panic attacks from all and sundry, and seriously reconsidering his atheism just in case. By now, back on dry civilized land again, he can make himself sound as nonchalant as he pleases.]

It's never a bad time to hear from you, dear. We're in port now; I think we're going to be fine. Not that I had any doubt of that, really--[Possibly the most blatant lie he's ever told, and it helps that he's not saying it to Kit's face.] --but from here on out I don't think there's anything else we'd have to worry about.

Crystal

[justice_is_blond]

I overheard something on the crystals, and I'm curious. What would you say are the needs of mages that should have advocation?

[misdirection_hex]

[The question is abrupt, from a voice he recognizes but not well, but he takes that in stride. It's a subject Vandelin can speak about at length, and is almost always happy to.]

Freedom from Chantry rule, above all. Full integration into society should be the ultimate goal, and that will require winning the peoples' trust, but everything flows from our independence from the institution responsible for creating this climate of fear in the first place.

crystal

[justice_is_blond]

Vandelin. I was wondering if you'd be free tomorrow for the conversation we discussed before, with a third mage as well.

[misdirection_hex]

[It's probably for the best that Anders keeps names and details out of it, though Vandelin has been given no reason to mistrust the other occupants of the Diplomacy offices. He excuses himself quietly from them, and finds a solitary place to reply.]

I can make time, certainly. Is this third mage someone I would know?

2am on the morning after Satinalia, crystal;

[faithlikeaseed]

[It is a good bet that Myr doesn't even know what time it is--otherwise, he wouldn't be calling.

Though from the very careful way he enunciates, the odd bit of slurring, the pauses--he's drunk.]

Van-- Vandelin. 've got a--a question for you.

You don't need to answer if you don't want. It's politics.

[misdirection_hex]

[There was a time, before the war, when Vandelin was notorious for sleeping so soundly that not even a bell rung directly in his ear could wake him. No crystal summons would have had a chance at rousing him at this hour. But that was then, and this is now, after long enough months spent on the run that he can't afford not to wake instantly at the sound of his name.]

Wha?

[Not so instantly that it doesn't take several seconds for this all to register, though. He sits up, carefully processing that softly-slurred request, and then slips out of Kit's bed to avoid waking him.]

Politics at this hour? It must be serious. [It's gentle enough not to be a rebuke at all.] What happened?

Crystal

[justice_is_blond]

How would you feel about babysitting a young Tevinter mage while he reads in the library? He's unpredictable and afraid, but he could be a good test of mages keeping an eye on other mages who might make trouble.

[misdirection_hex]

The one who calls me a knife-ear when I get too close to him?

I think I'll pass, thank you. Perhaps Serah Voss would be inclined to spare her time.

a (reluctant) visit to the Northern Powers office;

[ragweed]

There's a ghost outside the office door on whatever day it is that Vandelin happens to be conducting his work for the Northern Powers office--at least, a ghost insofar as Kit has done an admirable job of ensuring he hasn't seen or been seen by Vandelin since their last conversation. (The one that changed everything.)

But he's a grown-ass adult, and he can't think of anyone else in the project better suited to the task at hand than Vandelin. So here he is, struggling not to feel a little like he's forcing himself to walk across glass when he knocks on the door.

[misdirection_hex]

Vandelin doesn't like to be blindsided by emotional situations--not ever, not even in private, but certainly never at a place where he works. He, too, has kept his path as neatly out of Kit's orbit as he could. To do anything otherwise would be to defeat the entire purpose of leaving him. If he's to stay just as vulnerable, just as attached, just as preoccupied with him, he might as well have stayed.

But some preoccupation is unavoidable. He's prepared himself for the possibility of having to speak to Kit again, or work with him, and that's the only reason why his face is so studiously neutral as he recognizes that gait outside the door. He allows himself a moment, just one, to steel himself, and calls "Come in," as he would to anyone.

The Office

[justice_is_blond]

He knocks on the door. Or rather, he bumps it a few times with his elbow because his hands are slightly occupied holding a small towel-wrapped bundle.

"Vandelin? Are you in there? I've something for you, if you are." If he's not, Anders is going to feel very silly and hope that nobody is around to hear or see this. It's not like he has any great reason to know Vandelin's schedule, but calling into an empty office can be slightly embarrassing.

[misdirection_hex]

Vandelin has been spending far more time in the office than usual, reasoning that maybe if he just makes himself look he's working especially hard, people will think his refusal to go outside is diligence and industriousness rather than just an inconvenient fear of cold.

Anders has caught him at a good time, because he is not, in fact, in the middle of anything he can't set aside--especially not with an incentive like that.

"If it's food, I'll be delighted," he calls back, on his way over, "and if it's medicine, I'll forgive you." He opens the door.

Crystal

[justice_is_blond]

Vandelin. I'm working on a project and I was wondering if you were interested. It's a support group of sorts, a community thing.

[misdirection_hex]

[He's alone, but at that, he gets up quietly and finds a place where he's even less likely to be overheard or interrupted before he responds.]

I hate to point out that we haven't historically had the best of luck with that, but it is worth another shot. Who all is involved this time?

2/2, follow-up to the Kostos thread!

[faithlikeaseed]

[Continuing from here.]

Van, I...

...d'you have a moment to talk?

[misdirection_hex]

[His own poor decision-making finished with for the night, he regards his crystal with some surprise at the shift in Myr's tone. He'd thought they were merely kidding around, but...no, that isn't what Myr sounds like when he kids.]

Always. What's wrong?

crystal, after the sickness.

[dashing]

Enchanter, are you available? I realise this is a busy time, not lead of all for those serving as seconds to Division Heads.

crystal.

[ipseite]

Vandelin!

( her voice over the crystals is pleasant as ever—

which sometimes may be worrying, but in this case, the undertone is more wry than anything else. )

It is my understanding, regarding the information that we discussed,

( where 'discussed' means 'petrana obliquely complained about her colleagues over a drink after a workday', in a plausibly deniable fashion that perhaps did not become entirely clear until voss's announcement to his fellows— )

we may be anticipating strike action on the part of yourself and relevant others. Obviously, in this eventuality, you will have my full support. I would be most grateful to you if anything genuinely pressing on your desk might be passed to me in advance.

[misdirection_hex]

The support is most appreciated, Madame. I expected no less, but rest assured I haven't taken it for granted.

[He doesn't envy the mages of the other divisions--Forces least of all, but then, he's never had cause to worry for Nell's sake before and doesn't see the need to start now.]

I'll do my best to prioritize; there's not much that's time-sensitive, but I've been keeping an eye on the Van Markhams' troop acquisitions--

[He may have to be pressed to give up whatever is pressing; the most serious objection he has to this whole business is the idea that he'll have to let other people handle his projects. And he can't even check on them, let alone micromanage. How will he cope?]