[No, it doesn't count, but Kit's still had a damned sight more experience with rough lawless places--with any places beyond a locked tower and a ragged trail in the wake of the rebellion. It would take intense and prolonged duress for Vandelin to admit that a city like this makes him feel lost and naive and very small.]
So you're saying I probably shouldn't walk into a pub and try that Diamondback trick you taught me. [He wouldn't; it's not the sort of trouble Van looks for, but Kit probably knows by now that he can find himself more than enough trouble elsewhere.]
Maker only knows. The ships are-- ['Torn up all to shit,' he's about to say, but there's the faintest pause as he reflects on the worry in Kit's voice and quickly recalibrates the amount of candor that feels appropriate. Kit doesn't need to know how narrow their escape may or may not have been.] --being worked on now, and I don't know from ship repairs. It could be done tomorrow, for all I know. But probably another week or so at least.
[A week is an awful long amount of time for Vandelin to find trouble, and Kit knows well enough how good he is at finding it. A charming personality quirk in the safety of the Gallows; but in Llomerryn?]
...yeah, [he says, mustering up a small chuckle,] best not to try that trick out on anyone else, at least not without some backup. I got my own nose broke doing that once, but I lucked out. The sod broke my nose back into the right shape.
[A little bit of black humour, but he can't keep it up for long. He grimaces.] I wish I was there with you.
[He'd rather be able to joke about this, to ease his own feeling of foreboding with defiant nonchalance, but Kit has reason to worry. Vandelin knows he does. And it's been a long, long while since he had anyone but his cousin to worry about his safety--and that, as far as he knows, intermittently at best.]
I keep wishing you were here, too. If I had you around, it'd be a vacation, not a shipwreck. [This is the least significant of many reasons he wishes Kit were here, and he suspects that Kit knows that, but it's the one he'll admit aloud.]
Maybe we'll get a chance to come back on purpose someday. I'll be all the card-sharking backup you'd ever need. We'll kick some pirate ass and celebrate with brandy.
...Wait, no, that's Antiva. Imported brandy, then.
I can just see how that'll go down. Let's just stick with the brandy and a little friendly gambling. [This said with a smile that can be heard, even if it can't be seen. Kit leans back in his seat, twisting the sending crystal in his grasp and looking past it out his office window; it's raining, the first real chill of autumn in the air.
He knows he should let Vandelin go, should let him see to his tasks. Instead,] What's the weather like out there?
[Kit's smile, even if it's only audible, salves the ragged ends of his nerves, and he lets go of tension he hadn't even realized his shoulders were holding. What tasks? Anything he ought to be attending to can go fuck itself for a little while longer.]
Hot. Which you wouldn't think would be a bad thing; you know how cold Myr and I get down south, but it's the damp kind of hot. It feels like the inside of a gurgut. I'd rather be freezing in Kirkwall and have you keeping the bed warm.
[He has no idea, but there's one way to check. The sound of a chair scuffing across stone follows, along with Kit's footsteps, and the creak of a window opening; gulls call, audible now as Kit leans against the window, looking out from the Gallows towards the rest of the city. No one could ever accuse the view of being a pleasant one, but there's still something kind of arresting about it.]
...I'd call it a little chilly, sure. [This, followed by the sound of Kit taking a drag off a cigarette, and exhaling the smoke out.] Y'know, from this vantage point, Kirkwall doesn't look so bad.
[There's a hint of pride in Van's voice, warm and pleased on Kit's behalf, even if he promptly tempers it with more levity.]
It must be a hell of an office, if it can make Kirkwall look good. I take it nothing's gone tits-up yet? [He grins, almost audibly.] You're doing well for yourself.
[A warm smile and a chuckle.] Yeah, I'm doing all right, [he agrees after a moment, then edges the window closed some so the rain doesn't come indoors and create dampness.]
...also, before I forget, [he begins again, and Vandelin should be able to tell by the tone of his voice that what follows isn't going to be the greatest news.] ...I think I'll be out of Kirkwall, once you finally get back into town. Yngvi needs some help looking into something--we're going to Orzammar.
[And into Dust Town. You know, the last place in the world Kit would ever voluntarily return to unless it weren't a Very Big Deal. He tries to sound chill about it, but doesn't quite succeed.]
[Vandelin has learned his lesson about masking disappointment or concern with anger. He doesn't ever intend to give Kit another reason to turn that 'I don't owe you shit' look on him again, or its verbal equivalent. His tone now is genuinely noncommittal, his words measured and deliberate.]
I thought you weren't allowed back into Orzammar now that you've been to the surface. [It's not a question, not on its face, but the underlying implication is does this involve sneaking in, and how dangerous is that?]
...yeah, you thought right. [Which means, inevitably, there is going to involve a bit of sneaking. Where there's sneaking, there's invariably danger, though of what variety, he's not sure yet.] The details on the when and how are a little fuzzy just yet, and I need to get clearance to go from Beleth but, [he shrugs, takes a drag off the cigarette, and breathes it out again]. Yngvi wouldn't ask for help if he didn't need it.
[Another lingering pause, and then a small sigh.] I wish I could be here to see you when you finally get home. I'm sorry.
[And I wish I didn't have to contend again with the not-insignificant chance that you're going to get killed, but it is what it is, he doesn't retort, though it's on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't comment for another lingering moment.]
Sounds like the details of the 'why' are a little fuzzy too. Is there anything else you do know, other than that it's dangerously illegal and Yngvi wants you there?
[He knows that tone. In response, Kit says nothing for a long moment; he just leaves the sound of the wind through the open window to fill the space. He stares at the burning end of his cigarette, then puts it out.]
It has to do with the Carta, [he says quietly,] and if I knew more than that, and that it was important I be there for my friend, I would tell you.
[Another spell of silence. Then, sounding tired and weary,] I should probably finish up my work and head home. [This is not the note he wanted to end their call on, but on this topic, he doesn't have the emotional energy to stand behind his choice and fight for it. He's still processing what it all could even mean. ...still.] I miss you, Vandelin.
[The Carta. Fantastic. Even fucking better. Vandelin's no stranger to parting on sour notes--he honestly can't recall a single relationship he's ever had, familial or platonic or otherwise, that hadn't gone that way--but it does soothe just a few of his angrily ruffled edges that Kit isn't simply withholding information from him because he doesn't think Van merits it. It's not a net positive, when it only makes him feel all the more sick to think of Kit going into this half-blind and ill-prepared.]
Yeah, I miss you too. I'd rather it not be a permanent state of being.
Just...find out more before you go, all right? Anything you can. Even I know what kind of reach the Carta has.
I'll tell you whatever it's safe for me to share. [It's the closest compromise he can come up with; Yngvi's secrets aren't his to spread around, even to Vandelin--even to soothe his fears. This may remain a point of contention between them indefinitely, but for now, there's nothing more to be done about it. Kit closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath.]
I meant for you. [As little as he wants to be left out of the loop, as much as he hates the idea of having to worry for Kit without knowing what he's up against, he'll survive it.] I don't want you going into this with so little information. It doesn't matter if you tell me. I just want you to have all the precautions you can.
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So you're saying I probably shouldn't walk into a pub and try that Diamondback trick you taught me. [He wouldn't; it's not the sort of trouble Van looks for, but Kit probably knows by now that he can find himself more than enough trouble elsewhere.]
Maker only knows. The ships are-- ['Torn up all to shit,' he's about to say, but there's the faintest pause as he reflects on the worry in Kit's voice and quickly recalibrates the amount of candor that feels appropriate. Kit doesn't need to know how narrow their escape may or may not have been.] --being worked on now, and I don't know from ship repairs. It could be done tomorrow, for all I know. But probably another week or so at least.
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...yeah, [he says, mustering up a small chuckle,] best not to try that trick out on anyone else, at least not without some backup. I got my own nose broke doing that once, but I lucked out. The sod broke my nose back into the right shape.
[A little bit of black humour, but he can't keep it up for long. He grimaces.] I wish I was there with you.
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[He'd rather be able to joke about this, to ease his own feeling of foreboding with defiant nonchalance, but Kit has reason to worry. Vandelin knows he does. And it's been a long, long while since he had anyone but his cousin to worry about his safety--and that, as far as he knows, intermittently at best.]
I keep wishing you were here, too. If I had you around, it'd be a vacation, not a shipwreck. [This is the least significant of many reasons he wishes Kit were here, and he suspects that Kit knows that, but it's the one he'll admit aloud.]
Maybe we'll get a chance to come back on purpose someday. I'll be all the card-sharking backup you'd ever need. We'll kick some pirate ass and celebrate with brandy.
...Wait, no, that's Antiva. Imported brandy, then.
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He knows he should let Vandelin go, should let him see to his tasks. Instead,] What's the weather like out there?
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Hot. Which you wouldn't think would be a bad thing; you know how cold Myr and I get down south, but it's the damp kind of hot. It feels like the inside of a gurgut. I'd rather be freezing in Kirkwall and have you keeping the bed warm.
Is it freezing in Kirkwall?
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...I'd call it a little chilly, sure. [This, followed by the sound of Kit taking a drag off a cigarette, and exhaling the smoke out.] Y'know, from this vantage point, Kirkwall doesn't look so bad.
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[There's a hint of pride in Van's voice, warm and pleased on Kit's behalf, even if he promptly tempers it with more levity.]
It must be a hell of an office, if it can make Kirkwall look good. I take it nothing's gone tits-up yet? [He grins, almost audibly.] You're doing well for yourself.
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...also, before I forget, [he begins again, and Vandelin should be able to tell by the tone of his voice that what follows isn't going to be the greatest news.] ...I think I'll be out of Kirkwall, once you finally get back into town. Yngvi needs some help looking into something--we're going to Orzammar.
[And into Dust Town. You know, the last place in the world Kit would ever voluntarily return to unless it weren't a Very Big Deal. He tries to sound chill about it, but doesn't quite succeed.]
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[Vandelin has learned his lesson about masking disappointment or concern with anger. He doesn't ever intend to give Kit another reason to turn that 'I don't owe you shit' look on him again, or its verbal equivalent. His tone now is genuinely noncommittal, his words measured and deliberate.]
I thought you weren't allowed back into Orzammar now that you've been to the surface. [It's not a question, not on its face, but the underlying implication is does this involve sneaking in, and how dangerous is that?]
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[Another lingering pause, and then a small sigh.] I wish I could be here to see you when you finally get home. I'm sorry.
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Sounds like the details of the 'why' are a little fuzzy too. Is there anything else you do know, other than that it's dangerously illegal and Yngvi wants you there?
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It has to do with the Carta, [he says quietly,] and if I knew more than that, and that it was important I be there for my friend, I would tell you.
[Another spell of silence. Then, sounding tired and weary,] I should probably finish up my work and head home. [This is not the note he wanted to end their call on, but on this topic, he doesn't have the emotional energy to stand behind his choice and fight for it. He's still processing what it all could even mean. ...still.] I miss you, Vandelin.
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Yeah, I miss you too. I'd rather it not be a permanent state of being.
Just...find out more before you go, all right? Anything you can. Even I know what kind of reach the Carta has.
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...all right. Take care out there, you hear?
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I'll be fine. You know me.
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[When, not if. He has confidence enough in his ability to survive whatever Orzammar might throw at him. That's an old, familiar fight.]