Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Carver Amell]

"Cool." Carver sighs, then, smiling, looking up at the stars. 

"Cool."

[GamesMaster]

Over the weeks of Carver's absence, Beth and Merrill have become a regular fixture at Anders' clinic. The pair of them have proven to be solid, dependable workers -- and, it turns out, decent at fetch quests. The first time Anders mentioned needing a rare ingredient, Merrill simply took it from Varric's cabinet, earning her a scolding and a request to ask first next time. But Beth starts to get a feel for what shops are likely to have rare inventory, coming to know many vendors of magical and alchemical supplies, and the pair find themselves more and more useful for Anders' rare medicines and side projects.

Something bats at Beth's face, something unpleasantly like a large moth, only firmer, more solid -- and thus more painful. It takes her a few moments to wake enough to realize it's Chirples, trying to wake them both in a frantic tizzy; they've been sleeping in the same bed since perhaps the third night after Carver left, so it makes sense that he'd be in her room instead of Merrill's nearly unused one.

[Bethany]

You know Carver, a lesser sister wouldn't put up with cuddling your girlfriend because she gets lonely (and not seduce her because skinny or not, gods be damned I want sex). But putting up with her brother's girlfriend's daft familiar? Nope. "Chriples, if you don't stop that right the fuck now, I will roast you," she growls. The bird, no fool, does indeed break off the smacking, but also starts twittering urgently. 

"Uuugggggh," Beth groans, glaring at Merrill, blissfully sleeping through all of this without a care. "Fine, let's see what the problem is," she growls, prying the elf off of her so she can go see.

[GamesMaster]

The problem seems to be in the study: there's a faint sound of clicking as someone works the combination lock on the liquor cabinet. Someone who is about to get his hand blown off if he's not careful -- the lock is a ruse, meant to trap the unwary, as there's really a hidden keyhole around the side. And why is some cat trying to steal Varric's good liquor anyway? He's likely to be in so much trouble.

That fur pattern seems awfully familiar though, under the fine silks, illuminated by a dim sunrod covered in a reed basket. And, isn't hiding a light under a reed basket a trick she's heard of before, come to think of it?

[Bethany]

Eyes narrowing, Bethany raises her hand and snaps out a short incantation in celestial. "Bí heave agus rolladh." A beam of sickly yellow light hits the figure on the bum. 

"Nikolaos Kingfisher!" Bethany growls, the attempt good enough that Ari would be proud of her. "Have you no shame!"

[GamesMaster]

Niko jumps, whirling around, struggling to keep his nausea down as he fights to get his hand into his belt pouch. And he's kitted out fully: he's got his tool belt, ready to break and enter, but also a backpack and some vials she doesn't recognize along a bandolier. "Beth," he croaks, trying not to be sick. "Good. I need money. My life is in danger."

[Bethany]

Her hand fills with a blazing white light and she glares at him. "Are you- are you fucking serious? You vanish, abandon your friends, your family and now you just- just expect me to happily give you money? Let you steal from my dad?"

[GamesMaster]

Niko hisses. "You're just like all the rest," he growls. "I don't have time for this. Tell them there's another purge coming, they'll know what that means, but I have to go, before they find me!"

[Bethany]

"I'll thank you for the compliment! I get wanting to have your own life but that doesn't mean you should aban- purge? What are-" Bethany's face pales. "Nikolaos, what happened? What do you mean, purge?"

[GamesMaster]

"Don will know. Tell him, Huntinghawke is dead. I swear I didn't do it, but they-- well, you can imagine what they think I'll bet. I have to get out of Nyra before they start a checkpoint at the exit."

[Varric]

"Too late on that," Varric says from the doorway, Bianca in hand but not pointing at Nikolaos. Yet. "The Lord Hand would know she's dead and the wards will be on full alert already. Details, now."

[GamesMaster]

He curses in catfolk -- and not a nice one. "I'll have to make for the undercity. Sorry, there's no time to waste." He starts to move for the window, stopping when he sees Varric raise his weapon. He gulps. 

"C-come on, can't we reach an arrangement? If you turn me in I'll be killed!"

[Varric]

"Explain," Varric presses inexorably. "No details, no bargain. If you're in a hurry, then stop arguing and talk."

[GamesMaster]

His tail lashes, his ears flattening against his head. "Her carriage exploded yesterday. No warning. She was on her way to the orphanage. Today they find out the bomb was alchemical. Came around asking about the stuff in her lab, bag-and-tagging it. Wanted to ask me some questions about whether I knew how to make bombs. Of course I can make bombs, any apprentice worth his salt can make a basic alchemical bomb. It was one of the first tinctures she had me -- anyway, she doesn't have heirs, her lab is mine now. No cat gets to inherit from an elf, that's just not how Nyra works. I saw guards coming back, this time with backup, and I bolted. Barely made it out in time before they kicked down the door."

[Varric]

"Well... shit." Varric frowns, eyes closing for a moment. "Other than motive and means- which, yes, is a lot- what else points at you?"  He scowls. "Hells, did they see you run? Or are you just missing for the moment?"