Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Varric]

"Sex workers fall under Ciren," Varric says, seeing their momentary look of puzzlement. "Alright, I'll get papers made up for you, then you can see your healer and feel him out for whether he'll do your check up properly or if he's willing to skip certain steps."

[GamesMaster]

Brianne nods. "Great. Perfect. Thanks." She gets up, clearly done with this conversation.

[Varric]

"Oh, Brianne?" He waited until she was at the door. "I'll ask you kindly to get my daughter involved in that side of things... more than she already is. I can tolerate the devilweed but that's far enough." He smiles, the expression cold and unforgiving. "Thanks. You can send the next person in."

[GamesMaster]

His next guest is also a cat: this one's a tabby, with warm gold undertones to her striped fur, and no hair, marking her as a pureblood rather than a merikos like Brianne. She sizes him up, then, chewing some gum, introduces herself: "Arius Noaidi," she says, holding out a paw to shake. "Red bandanna lieutenant."

[Varric]

Varric takes the hand without hesitation, his shake firm, professional and unhurried. "Varric Tethras, Bethany's factor. Pleasure to meet you." Well, at least this one doesn't seem to be an addict (at least not at first sight).

[GamesMaster]

What's a factor? Must be some dwarf thing. "Cool," she says, chewing her gum. "Good for you. So like, the thing is, we're not like, a big gang," she adds, her tone carefree. "We do other stuff besides this."

[Varric]

"Understandable. I've already figured that, given the increased business, it might be good to shift the Bandanas to a supervising role in security. Beth and Carver both speak well of Don- your brother, I think?- so I was going to work with him to figure out who of his would runs things. Need at least two people each night, maybe three on busy ones. One to play host, organize things, one to oversee the two bouncers I'd locate. I own some warehouses, some carters- a big, hulking bruise sort can often end fights before they start just by looming, but it'd be good to have someone with... some street savvy to watch them, if ya ken. Thoughts on that?"

[GamesMaster]

"Adonis," she tosses in, shifting a little as she leans against the wall. "yah, I can maybe do that. Depends on the bouncers. Gotta be able to take direction."

[Varric]

"Sorry, Adonis." Right, catfolk don't like nicknames from strangers (sloppy). "Eh, they'll be solid. Looks like my tonight will be explaining the new reality to a series of pimps and I was going to tag two I know for sure would be up for a change of career. Care to tag along to see how they work?" And how I work?

[GamesMaster]

"yah," she says, chewing her gum a bit. "I can do that. When and where?"

[Varric]

"Start out here, sometime after dark. Say eight or so," Varric replies after a moment.

[GamesMaster]

"Sure. Sounds great." She pushes off the wall, tossing her head slightly. "Gonna have a nap before, then. See ya."

[Carver Amell]

'Defective'. 

Carver slams his fist into the wall to avoid burying it in Seeker Helene's face -- and Helene seems to notice, their face crumpling, as they turn to flee the room. All he can see is Beth, with the same expression; nevermind that she's at the temple, he's dangerous, he might hurt someone, and he just can't, he can't keep hold of his temper, and maybe that's why he's defective, maybe that's part of why he can't learn things, why he's stupid and clumsy and can't figure people out and--

He stumbles his way out to the front step, collapsing onto it, burying his face against his knees, sobbing quietly until the coldness in him takes over, cooling his heart with a frozen numbness. The tears dry, but he doesn't lift his head, not yet. 

[Tethras Clan]

There'a a soft creaking noise, a gentle rattle of metal, and then a shadow falls over him. "I'm no good with clever words or soft words. All I can do is offer honest ones, and perhaps an ear to listen to your words," a hesitant but kind voice says hesitantly. 

[Carver Amell]

Carver's shoulders tense, and he lifts his head slowly, looking up at the guardswoman. His face is a picture of misery and guilt, the dried tracks of unwiped tears standing out against his tanned skin.