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Post by skeyti on May 18, 2014 18:22:13 GMT
| the master's hand | The mage undressed him. She was clinical and deft, pushing him back onto the chair and removing his coat, his shirt, his boots. Her hands were cold where she touched him. She gripped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. "Superficial cuts on the right cheekbone," she said to someone he couldn't see. "He had an arrow wound in his lower back that I fixed, but I don't think he even noticed it in the field."She released her grip on him and stepped back. He could still feel the cold lingering on his skin where she had touched him. This mage had handled him after many missions, for almost a year now, but he wasn't allowed to remember her. She wasn't information necessary for his retention. She was proprietary of him though. Although he was not her creation, she felt the same gleaming sense of pride and workmanship when she looked at him that a warrior might feel for a finely crafted war axe or bow. The mage laid out the arsenal of weapons she'd retrieved from his body: throwing knives, daggers, flasks of churning liquids, the items for his traps, on a table just out of his line of sight and another person arrived to begin sorting through them and putting them away. Just like him, they would wait in the armory for the next assignment. The mage came to stand behind where he still sat on the chair. He hadn't moved since she had pushed him down, not even the small unconscious movements of people when they were at rest. She put her hands on his bare shoulders, and he could feel the thrum of magic sinking into his bones. She was not looking down at him; she looked across the room at someone else. "We'll introduce you slowly," she said. "Walk to where he can see you and ask for his report."freya bellamy |
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Post by freya bellamy on May 20, 2014 15:52:18 GMT
on her way back to orlais, freya had read the previous reports and all the supplementary materials that the chantry had provided. she would not have wanted to be his enemy; that much was for certain.
except weapons do not have enemies, and a bard is no stranger to the idea of surrounding herself with people who are more powerful than she.
still, she has to admit that it is a little strange to be addressing the mage as if the man is not there. "was it due to lyrium enhancements or physical conditioning?"
she is neither an enchanter nor a doctor. what she is a convenience. that is fine. having chantry protection against orlesian politics is enough of a convenience for herself as well. freya just does not delude herself for a second into thinking that she is not expendable. she has already made those sorts of mistakes.
her voice is deceptively gentle when she addresses him (for she is not gentle, and she will never be gentle again). "you are allowed to remember me." she does not bother telling him when that time stops. the mages will take that decision away from him.
freya walks into their line of sight. "what do i need to hear?" CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE |
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Post by skeyti on May 20, 2014 18:05:58 GMT
| the master's hand | The mage dragged one hand from his shoulder to bury it in his hair. She ran her fingers against his scalp and leaned forward against him to track the woman. "Mental conditioning," she said. "His physical enhancements are an innovation, but the real beauty of the achievement lies in what was done to his mind. Do your daggers complain when you chip them in battle? Of course not. They can still cut, and so they do. He's conditioned to register wounds based only on how they harm his ability to be effective, not based on anything so trivial as his own discomfort. If an injury doesn't inhibit him, it is dismissed before he's even consciously aware."Skeyti studied the new woman. Small. Blonde. He had been told he would have a new handler. He didn't know what had happened to his old handler, or who that had been. There had been an old one, he knew. Anything beyond that was blank. "A chevalier was the target of this assignment," he said, raising his gaze level with the base of his handler's throat. He could hear her pulse from here. He knew four different ways to kill everyone in this room in under thirty seconds. He kept talking past the knowledge. "I infiltrated his estate fifteen minutes after debriefing and waited in his bedroom. He returned from a night out three hours later. He was intoxicated. I slit his throat and left his body on the bed. Is there any further information you require?"freya bellamy |
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Post by freya bellamy on May 20, 2014 19:02:26 GMT
there is obvious pride in how the mage regards her work, and freya supposes that she is probably entitled to it. after all, this assassin is nothing like what she had really encountered before. not even among the crows that she has met.
and of course, the strongest of prisons are always self-enforced. she does not know if she feels pity or envy when she looks at him. perhaps a combination of both. perhaps it is neither, and she only raises these suppositions to make these thoughts more comfortable to herself. to a man like skeyti, surely these are extraneous thoughts. merely buzzing flies in his ear.
"so he would realize when he is on the verge of bleeding out?" if she made an enemy out of the chantry - well. the nobles may be the least of her concerns. she does not fear orlesians so much in comparison, not when they are unwilling to leave the world that they are so familiar with.
freya decides that she does not like where his eyes are going, mostly because she had been trained to be less obvious about it. sloppy. "my eyes are up here." this may have been much funnier without context.
she supposes that the name and social background of the man in question may be beyond what he was required to know. "were there any guards? who saw you that night?" she pauses for a second. "did you need anyone to clean up after you?"
(did you commit my mistake?)
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Post by skeyti on May 20, 2014 19:16:20 GMT
| the master's hand | "He would," she confirmed. "And he'll take the steps necessary to keep himself alive until the mission is completed. They called me in for him a year ago, when he was on an assignment that ended up almost killing him. Three arrows in his chest, a stab wound in his gut, a fractured arm and a severed tendon in his right ankle deep in Tevinter territory and he still accomplished his objectives and was extracted two hours before deadline. He's a very sturdy piece of work."Skeyti didn't remember that. If she said it had happened, though, he knew that it had. He kept his gaze on the handler's throat. "I don't have permission to look a handler in the eye," he said, and continued. "There were a dozen guards on the estate, six in rotating patrols of two, and six stationed at various entrances. No one saw me. I was instructed to leave the chevalier's body behind to be found, so I did. Is there any further information you require?"freya bellamy |
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Post by freya bellamy on May 22, 2014 16:05:31 GMT
he may not be allowed to look her in the eye, but she is plenty capable of looking in his, even if their gazes do not line up. had skeyti been anyone else, freya might have asked him what he was afraid of. except this is not the court of val royeux - maker, the people in the chantry did not even wear masks (le horreur).
did skeyti even need a mask? is the mask even his?
(in her experience, they rarely ever were)
"...was that a condition enforced by the previous handler, or general protocol?" freya considers it very need-to-know information - to what extent was she expected to play the role of the previous man? "i was under the impression that i am here because he requires a human component." or he would see no one but mages and chantry letters all day.
she is an orlesian bard, an occupation that designates every interaction as a battleground. in skeyti, she sees a man riddled with weaknesses. at the same time, nobody is hiring him to sell cookies, and the chantry did not hire her for her opinion.
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Post by skeyti on May 22, 2014 18:07:08 GMT
| the master's hand | "General protocol," Skeyti said. The mage laughed, silvery and bright. "A human component? Please don't let yourself fooled by his appearance, miss. There's nothing human about him. We require you because someone needs to extract him from the field, assemble dossiers on each assignment and brief him on missions, imbue him with the purpose for each one. I would do it if I could--but my talents lie in other directions."The mage stroked his hair. "Don't get attached. He might look like a young man your age, but he's only a blade, and you can injure yourself on him as easily as you would any other blade. He killed his last handler because the idiot tried to treat him like a human. The effort was incompatible with what we've done to his mind. The man got what he deserved."And then she smiled at Freya, predatory and knowing. "Unless, of course, you're attracted to him? The upkeep with his appearance isn't frivolous. There have been missions of that nature in the past, and as long as he remains stable, certain indulgences can be forgiven on your part. He is very talented at everything he is assigned to do." Her hand curled around the base of Skeyti's neck. He had no reaction to anything that was said. He waited for containment. freya bellamy |
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Post by freya bellamy on May 22, 2014 18:54:40 GMT
she thinks that she is starting to see into his world a little in a way that paper reports could never convey. freya has few objections to her assignment - the role of the bard has always been to look, but not to touch any life that they encounter. her power had always been indirect.
a true weapon needs no leash. she has been away from val royeux for nearly a year, and she has learned. but she is not interested in convincing anyone, not when she already knows how to live by her own tenants (or so you say, otherwise you would not be here with ghosts at your heels).
"this is rich, receiving a lecture about attachment from you." freya's smile is probably pleasant to anyone who does not spend a lot of time playing the game. "if you are done, then maybe you could return to being unremembered." like the good little circle mage that she is. freya never did take kindly to people who assumed that she didn't know how to remain alive. how to survive.
if this is how skeyti survives, then so be it. freya has no intention to threaten him.
finally, she speaks to skeyti directly. "consider it a directive to make sure that i don't end up skewered on one of your knives." there was always the possibility that he could fail, of course, but it was always good to have goals. "speak to me if you need assistance on that front." there is no humor in her tone. she is entirely serious.
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Post by skeyti on May 26, 2014 16:43:13 GMT
| the master's hand | Her smile didn't fade. Her hand tightened on Skeyti's neck. Varying increments of pressure. He noted it, dismissed it. She was authorized to do whatever she liked. "There's no harm in attachment," she said. "Just remember he's a tool, not a pet, and you'll be fine."The handler started to say something else and Skeyti listened, but there was a roaring in his ears. The magic she'd been weaving in his bones since he sat down in the chair flared to life, spread throughout his entire body until he trembled with the exertion of keeping himself still. His jaw locked to keep himself from screaming. Screaming would destroy his cover--denote his position-- There was pain Skeyti's conditioning couldn't suppress. His eyes rolled backwards till only the whites were exposed and he thought of the one secret he had kept, if it was safe. In his mind there was a shock of red for a moment, all he could picture, and then it shattered. He slumped limp in the chair, and the mage reached for his wrist to take his pulse. "He was stressed about something, at the very end," she said. "I could feel it. Unusual. I wonder if it was your proximity. Not that it matters now. He's done. Would you like to take him back to his cell?" freya bellamy |
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