Hazelnuts and plaid

[Aveline Vallen]

"Isabela?" Aveline calls softly, knocking with the pads of her fingers against the side of the door to the guest room. It's not closed, just in case, but the door is blocking direct sight of the bed. She can just make out Zevran's bare feet, but that's all.

[Isabela]

Isabela slips around the corner into view, buckling her knife belt to her waist. "Ready," she says quietly. "Let's go. Brief me on the way."

[Aveline Vallen]

The paladin closes her mouth, cut off before she could start explaining things. After a moment, she just shakes her head with a sigh. Sneaks and spies, the lot of them, she thinks not unfondly. She scowls then, a real scowl, and glares (pouts) at Wylde. "Go ahead and get the damn chair," she grumbles. Can't afford to tire myself out just walking everywhere I need to be today. Can't afford the time it'd take to do it without tiring out. Stupid belly.

[Wylde]

"Yes ma'am," she says, with a grin. A few moments later and the three are walking down the street, or well, two are walking and one rolling and filling in the ex-pirate. 

[Helene Dakesh]

Meanwhile, Helene's scrying finally concludes, the bowl of water resolving into an image: Hawke, sniffing a handful of spices. Or no, not spices -- well, they're cardamom bulbs, but they're also used in alchemy, and the other ingredients on the table seem to be alchemical in nature rather than culinary, including the wicked sharp knife right beside the bowl of cardamom pods. As Helene pulls the invisible camera back, they can see clearly that she's in the Bazaar, considering a purchase. 

What?

Wait, what?

Helene stares dumbly at the bowl. "...Query," ne says flatly. "Could she have just... run away?"

[Varric]

"No," Varric says instantly, shaking his head. "Even if you disregard her oath to the Lord Hand, her promise to Aveline, her guilt and remorse about her actions and inactions, there's still the fact that she's not a moron. If she was trying to run, she'd have come up with a plan for the bracelet. Moreover, she'd not be just shopping, in the open, with her own face." He frowns, peering at the bowl. "Can you tilt so we can see her face more clearly? Something's off..."

[GamesMaster]

It takes a moment for him to spot it: a silver chain, running down under her tunic to hold some small lump there. Between that and the knowledgable way she's eyeing these ingredients, expertly testing small pieces for potency.... no. Something's wrong here. 

[Varric]

"Necklace," he murmurs, hands swiftly finalizing an infusion to allow him to see magical auras. 

[GamesMaster]

The necklace lights up like a candleabra, glowing with a strong magical light under the tunic. 

[Varric]

"Definitely magical," he grunts, squinting a little as he tries to discern the patterns of the magic in an attempt to identify at least the school, if not the type or even specific spell.

[GamesMaster]

Is it... necromancy? Hard to tell, and she turns away before he's quite certain. It's powerful, that's for damn sure. 

[Varric]

"...possession," Varric finally decides, face paling. "I-- I'm not positive, but-- Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene lets out a small, wordless mewling noise as the scry finally concludes. 

[Varric]

"We-- We need to..." He swallows thickly. "Need to find her. Sedation and containment. Bracelet still-- still on her so-- on her body, so no spells. Just need..." He notices he's trembling and tries to... "Helene?" he pleads, taking a step towards nem, arms half raised.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene throws ner arms around Varric, squeezing tightly and trembling in his arms.