Blood from Stone [AU]

[Bethany]

Bethany curls into him, trembling a little. "I... I don't know. That... without proof, that can... invite her. Warn her but be sure to be clear it''s just suspicion. Dad is still in those talks with that dwarf envoy- he said he might not be home again for a day or two. So. So... so we have to... be smart. She might..." Bethany takes a deep breath. "It might not be Cindy. It could be... it's possible that was... self-inflicted. Or that she's been getting into fights to... I don't know, prove herself or... something. But... Aveline is smart and experienced and..."

[Carver Amell]

"Yeah," he says softly. "Yeah. Okay. I'll drop by there tonight, let her know to prepare some Truthing."

[Bethany]

Beth nods a little. "Don't say anything to tuiste or Merrill. Not yet," she adds quickly. "I don't... if we spook her, she could run. And neither of them are any good at... subtle."

[Carver Amell]

Carver nods. "Alright. I... I'll try. You know me. But I should be okay for a day or so."

[Bethany]

"I know. I hate asking you to keep secrets. But just for a day or so, promise," Beth swears, kissing his cheek. "We'll figure this out. We'll help her." She doesn't say 'this time' out loud. She doesn't have to.

[Carver Amell]

"We will," he says, squeezing her hand tightly. Just don't go getting any ideas about dying like I did.

[Varric]

Later that night, Varric is not yet home. The dwarf is... displeased by this turn of events, to put it mildly. He's made it a point to be home for either breakfast or dinner with whoever is able to make it home at the very least each day. But for the second day running, he's missed both meals, barely having enough time to slip into the house and say goodnight to everyone before having to be back out before dawn. It's clear that they're curious, to say the least, about what's going on but have accepted his 'annoying ass dwarven envoy' explanation for now. Which isn't a lie. They are dwarves and they are very sodding annoying.

"Gods in tiny yet infinite planes, I did not miss Orzammar legal hieroglyphics," he mutters, not reacting to the sound of footsteps outside his office. He does have cleaners after all, some of who might still be working despite it being near midnight. He also has Bianca, just in case it's not cleaners.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Cindy never makes footsteps when there's no-one else to hear it, to be put off by her silent grace. It's become ingrained habit, from long years as the Scale: move quietly, move quickly, and above all else, do not draw attention to your presence. If your enemies (or family, or total strangers) want to discuss something when they don't realize you're behind them, so much the better. Every bit of information could mean the difference between life and death.

But she can't help but make noise. For the first time in longer than she cares to recall, Cindy is flat-out running.

She keeps tabs on where everyone in her family is meant to be. It's also out of habit; more than once, The Judge has almost caught her due to coming in late or going out earlier than she expected. She knows without having to reach for rational thought that Varric has been spending nights in his office, knows without bothering to turn her head as she passes his home that the lantern is still hanging out for him, knows that he's therefore not home despite everyone sane even in this city having long since gone to bed. Despite it being nearer to sunrise than sunset. 

She runs across town to find him, because when she's really running, really flat-out running, she can't also be thinking. Or remembering. Or gods above, feeling.

She throws the door open, drenched in sweat, and gasps, "Come quick, it's Liz."

[Varric]

Varric vaults over the desk, feet never touching the ground, though the now empty vial does shatter in his wastebasket out of long ingrained habit. Reaching her, he thrusts another at her. "Flight spell, lasts for hours, double your top speed," he rattles off rapidly. "Lets move!"

[Coquette Blacquin]

Double my speed, she thinks, with a brief instant of breathtaken wonder at the feats magic could accomplish. Then, recalling why she was after this particular feat, she swallows, straightens, and prepares to run again.

Later, when his brain had time to inform him things, Varric is able to recreate some of what happened by the attire she wears as they set off once more, this time flying. Cindy never leaves the house dressed anything less than impeccably, even in the plainer garb she's started to prefer; she's turned up tonight barefoot, wearing nothing but a thin night-shift, her fine silver hair bound loosely in a braid only to keep it from snarling while she sleeps. She wears a bright silver tie at the bottom, clearly enchanted, glittering like moonlight, but no other gear. If she'd been planning to go even next door, she'd be wearing boots, an over-skirt, and her chain shirt for safety, even if it's glamored to look like something else. She's not even wearing a breastband it could be disguised as.

He knows where they're going before they're halfway there: her home, Marian's home, their home. As they fly, as she gets enough control to draw near him without knocking him off course, she begins to explain in a low, shaky voice: "She won't wake up. She sleeps so lightly, she didn't even shift when Whiskers yowled at me, and I checked her pulse and she's not waking up, her pulse is slow, her skin is cold, I think she's been poisoned and I don't know what with but she has her alchemy kit and you can make the antidote and--"

She cuts off, then, as her voice is more panicked an shrill than she'd like for explaining a situation. "And I know you'll save her. I'll pay whatever you like, just bring her back to me."

[Varric]

"Shut the hells up," Varric growls. "I'd not take coin to save my daughter's life." Without waiting for a reply, he heads for the backdoor, fully intending to just burst through if it's locked. I have a Remove Poison potion (and a Suspend if the brew isn't strong enough for whatever it is) plus a lesser restoration, a remove disease and some simple healing ones (plus my wands). Plus my travel kit (and what Liz has). She'll be fine. I can help her (this time).

[Coquette Blacquin]

Cindy doesn't even blink as he busts through; doors can be replaced, lives not. Instead, she gestures toward the stairs, the upper bedroom, and stays back, letting him take in the scene. She hadn't dared touch anything, not once she'd realized what was happening. Better to leave it where it lay than have to recount what I suspect may have happened.

Liz isn't in the bed; she's curled up in her favorite reading spot, a pillowed nook in the large window, where she can gaze up at the stars. Cindy's found her there enough times not to have even thought to move her, except that Whiskers hadn't liked being pushed out of the warm spot when Cindy returned to bed, and Liz hadn't moved. It was only on second glance, as she was assessing the symptoms, that she'd spied the small, glass cup resting by the seat. Said glass was too small to hold much water, but it would hold a single potion's worth of liquid easily. No sense decanting into a vial if you were going to take the tincture immediately, after all. If you'd brewed it yourself. If you had willingly drank it. 

Her alchemical kit is laid out across the desk, only a few steps away. Several of the pouches are empty, and -- as is her habit -- she's laid out the whole kit across the surface, which makes it more difficult to determine what she may have brewed. The small candle under the warmer is still just a bit warm, implying it had been lit earlier, letting her heat some component or melt some solid into a liquid for her tincture. But all this he'll have to take in later, because Liz is curled up in the seat where she hasn't risen, may never rise. Her breathing is labored, her body covered in a sheen of cold sweat, her pulse sluggish, and she's not breathing. 

[Varric]

There are only all of four poisons or toxins that react negatively to a properly brewed Neutralize Poison potion- and each and every one of them are worth a hundred times their weight in diamonds. So. Without delay, Varric tips her head back and dumps the vial down her face. Even as he prays for it to start working, he's checking her for other signs of malaise, trying to piece together what happened. "When did you last see her well? How long since you noticed her like this?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"La-last night, I went to bed," I'm sorry I'm so sorry, please live, please, "she was going to sit up for a while. I often wake in the middle of the night, because she so often doesn't sleep, I was just going to tuck her in -- as soon as I saw her I ran for you, minutes, it had to have been minutes." Please, please, please don't die!

The effect is immediate: her skin warms a touch, and something small and wrinkled in her brow eases, as though a pain had passed from her. That's all. She's still unconscious, still not breathing. After her healing just a few hours ago, there are no bruises, no unexplained injuries, but there's bags under her eyes, as there often are. She looks small, helpless, childlike in his arms, but not hurt, not attacked or coerced.

[Varric]

"How... how was her... mood?" Varric asks carefully. Probably a misbrew. A bad one. Tired, distracted, it happens. (But what if it wasn't). Alright, responding to the potion (so damn small...). Tired. No, exhausted. Pushing herself.