"Cumberland," Kostos says, and, "I have," reluctantly, "friends. Loyalists"
From his years as one of them. They weren't all snakes. Cowards, maybe, for not keeping their end of the bargain to act as one people, but not—
"Here."
Better than any attempt he might make to convey it out loud, he passes her the letter. It's in need of smoothing-out to be legible, after the way he had it clenched in his fist. It's terse. The date, the location. The fact that they intend to propose resuming Circle operations. The fact that the Grand Enchanter and her ilk have been left out of this planning. Initials for the signature, S.L., and a P.S., You're still an asshole.
On a second, equally crumpled sheet is a list of proposals. Someone's notes from a discussion, full of abbreviations, shorthand, and arrows to insert new words. Illegible, in a few people, but the gist is clear.
Edited (I forgot my own plan) 2022-07-06 16:31 (UTC)
In the exchange, Derrica takes hold of Kostos' hand and keeps it. If permitted. The intention of holding on is very much there, even as her attention turns to the crumpled sheets of parchment.
Anger is still quiet, muted beneath the more immediate thrum of dread. Both grow stronger as she reads.
"We have to go," she says, thinking of Flint in a boat in the dark advising Make good use of that margin. Of course they must go. This is everything she had worried about, everything she had tried to warn Holden to watch for. But this is followed swiftly by, "We have to send someone to Fiona."
Two things, accompanied by the strange consideration that it is within her power to order them.
He hasn't pulled his hand away. It hangs loose in hers; his fist-clenching tension has migrated into his upper arm, where it won't bruise her fingers. But it's bleeding out, incrementally, as she proposes action.
"To the front," he clarifies, where Fiona and her forces are. "Mouse is fast. But by the time they get there—"
That's alright. Derrica is holding on tightly enough for them both. Not enough to crush, but hard, uncharacteristically so. The sharp sideways look stands in for the flicker of worry, an awareness of all that can happen approaching the front, even on griffon-back, but—
"We'll have to stall them. We can do that."
If there is anything Riftwatch can do, it is disrupt.
"We know where they're meeting. I can take a group, make ourselves heard until you can bring Fiona and the others."
Looking askance as she speaks, testing this plan against Kostos' pragmatism.
He nods. And he takes his hand back, but not with any particular haste to be free of her grip; it's to straighten the clothes that went crooked in his rush up the stairs, to fix his hair, to transform into a man who is part of a plan instead of in a panic.
"You will need enough people that they cannot talk over you," he says, "or lock you out. We don't have that many mages here. The rifters—"
—are not his favorites, as a group. Disorganized, scattered, confused, so full of outrage at basic facts of Thedosian life that they cannot always see past it into what can, realistically, be done. But there are enough of them to double their numbers.
He sighs. It's close to a growl, but a growl of acceptance.
You'll have to tell them is a little startling, as the full weight of her position catches up to her all over again.
Yes, she will have to tell them for more reasons than she is patient where Kostos is not. It draws Derrica's attention back to the wrinkled papers in her hand, looking at them over again though the words there have been seared into her mind.
"I want Madame de Cedoux with us. And Julius."
Two people who could answer questions where Derrica could not. She is not as diplomatically minded as Petrana. And she did not negotiate with the Chantry, as Julius had in the past. It will help, if they are there and prepared from the very start.
"We should speak with them before we start gathering the others."
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no subject
From his years as one of them. They weren't all snakes. Cowards, maybe, for not keeping their end of the bargain to act as one people, but not—
"Here."
Better than any attempt he might make to convey it out loud, he passes her the letter. It's in need of smoothing-out to be legible, after the way he had it clenched in his fist. It's terse. The date, the location. The fact that they intend to propose resuming Circle operations. The fact that the Grand Enchanter and her ilk have been left out of this planning. Initials for the signature, S.L., and a P.S., You're still an asshole.
On a second, equally crumpled sheet is a list of proposals. Someone's notes from a discussion, full of abbreviations, shorthand, and arrows to insert new words. Illegible, in a few people, but the gist is clear.
no subject
Anger is still quiet, muted beneath the more immediate thrum of dread. Both grow stronger as she reads.
"We have to go," she says, thinking of Flint in a boat in the dark advising Make good use of that margin. Of course they must go. This is everything she had worried about, everything she had tried to warn Holden to watch for. But this is followed swiftly by, "We have to send someone to Fiona."
Two things, accompanied by the strange consideration that it is within her power to order them.
no subject
He hasn't pulled his hand away. It hangs loose in hers; his fist-clenching tension has migrated into his upper arm, where it won't bruise her fingers. But it's bleeding out, incrementally, as she proposes action.
"To the front," he clarifies, where Fiona and her forces are. "Mouse is fast. But by the time they get there—"
no subject
"We'll have to stall them. We can do that."
If there is anything Riftwatch can do, it is disrupt.
"We know where they're meeting. I can take a group, make ourselves heard until you can bring Fiona and the others."
Looking askance as she speaks, testing this plan against Kostos' pragmatism.
no subject
"You will need enough people that they cannot talk over you," he says, "or lock you out. We don't have that many mages here. The rifters—"
—are not his favorites, as a group. Disorganized, scattered, confused, so full of outrage at basic facts of Thedosian life that they cannot always see past it into what can, realistically, be done. But there are enough of them to double their numbers.
He sighs. It's close to a growl, but a growl of acceptance.
"You'll have to tell them."
no subject
Yes, she will have to tell them for more reasons than she is patient where Kostos is not. It draws Derrica's attention back to the wrinkled papers in her hand, looking at them over again though the words there have been seared into her mind.
"I want Madame de Cedoux with us. And Julius."
Two people who could answer questions where Derrica could not. She is not as diplomatically minded as Petrana. And she did not negotiate with the Chantry, as Julius had in the past. It will help, if they are there and prepared from the very start.
"We should speak with them before we start gathering the others."