[OPEN] For people who needed to get Malicant info from Elfman.

[aenseidhe]

Characters: Iorveth and yooooou
Date: 6/6
Location: Turtle's head
Situation: Iorveth sitting around taking notes on things and trying to think, come interrupt him so he can grump at you. Also, this is for people that wanted to get their characters involved in the Malicant Investigation Super Team of People Doing Illegal Things and needed to try to pry Malicant information from Iorveth. If you want to try to set up a thread for it, hit me up on the plot post there and I'll talk it out with you. Just want to make sure you actually get the info, seeing as it's hard to get him to share secrets icly D: If you'd just like to bug him outside of getting information, feel free to hop in :3 Just let me know if you do want to get info from him on the ooc plot post so we can work it out /o/
Warnings/Rating: Uh idk like PG-13? There could be cursing.



[ There is an odd kind of peace near the head of Tu Vishan that Iorveth has not felt in a very long time, and only now does he take to believe that the boy he had dreamed of was the spirit of this creature - perhaps a grand spirit of nature all it's own. Dana does not rule in the world, but life and what sustains it still has it's own nurturing soul. Something he's much more certain of as he sits cross legged underneath a tree near the curved edge of the turtle's upper shell. He can see the ocean from here, the tranquil rolling of the waves almost mesmerizing.

But it's a lie, isn't it? Even here, with the area near the Palace looking so lush and vibrant, this land is dying - something slow but mounting rapidly, and while he can't be certain if it is that creature, Malicant, that the Emperor spoke to him of, there's a suspicion that it's not unrelated. His expression sours, and Iorveth has always hated the lull of setting that has people ignoring the things happening around them. The way men would simply walk past Aen Seidhe peasants being beaten in the streets. The way the simple city elves, no long able to call themselves Aen Seidhe, would think they were safe in their hovels if they just endured and stayed out of the way. Endured until a riot began and their district burnt to ash as they clawed at the bolted doors. He brings a hand up, a pencil held between fingers, to rub at the scarred cheekbone just under the cloth covering the empty socket that had once held his right eye. A phantom irritation.

Glancing back down, the tip of the pencil traces over the pad of paper in his lap, reading back over the notes he's taken in a language he knows no one in this realm could read - Elder Speech, his native tongue. He's read over it who knows how many times, made notes here and there, trying to find some place to start. He has some ideas, some places to search, some people to press for more information, but nothing so solid. Nothing solid enough to make him feel settled. But how possible is that? Fighting an immaterial thing that can kill with a thought? Be anyone and anything? What if it's here already? What if one of those people he's cracked to and given information to had been the creature in disguise? He knows already that it's terror began ages ago with it posing as a rebellion leader. As exactly what Iorveth has always acted as.

There is no one he can trust but at the same time, what choice does he have? He cannot do this alone. ]

Comments

[una_persson]

[It so happens that this is the first time Una has made her way out to the turtle's head since her arrival. She's walking along with her hands in her pockets, lost in thought and meditating on her dream conversation with Tu Vishan, when she sees a familiar face.]

Iorveth.

[She raises a hand in greeting.]

[fatedchaos]

[The dream Vanessa had of Asti has stuck with her the past few weeks. The sadness that accompanied the spirit, the resignation. It's one of the reasons why she makes her way up to the head, to spend some time with Tu Vishan. But it's also because she can't really sort out her thoughts. The possession, the spectres, Catty, Malicant.

Even just thinking the name sends a chill crawling down her spine. It has the same taste as the Atrox, in her mind. And that doesn't sit well with her at all.

She pauses, though, when she spots Iorveth.] Hey. [Her hand lifts in a wave.]

[gathersnomoss]

[Zelgadis wasn't normally one to be seeking peace and tranquility. On the other hand, he hadn't really explored the turtle's head all that much -- for that very reason, actually. And, there was always the chance that Asti could answer some of the questions he'd had, even while he was awake or daydreaming.

[Or that he'd just appreciate the company, even if Zelgadis suspected the turtle might not be able to focus too well on other people while awake.

[He recognized Iorverth from the post, the one hinting that something was going on. Zel's own inquiries hadn't turned up much, but he didn't exactly know where to look, and most of the books were impenetrable.]

Nice view, isn't it?

[Zelgadis really is pretty awful at small talk, but he is going to at least make the attempt before 'you know something and I want to know what's up'. That and the turtle is tempering him towards politeness, instead of being irritated about secrets.]

[traitre]

[ news travels fast, even on a such a large turtle shell, and it's not so difficult to find the source of a rumour… especially when the rumour is the hot topic on everyone's lips at the moment. war this, nameless horror that-- et cetera et cetera. and although he puts little stock in dreams, the chat he had with "asti" implied enough that the whispers of some supreme evil set his mind sparking.

qilby isn't one to be content simply not knowing. whatever the true nature of this threat, he needs to find out, and evidently one iorveth is the man to speak to. luckily, people are as easy to track as rumours are -- after grunting a gruff reply about some "pointy-eared foreigner what lives in a tree," a kedan worker points him to the turtle's head.

from then on, it's not too hard to find the elf. qilby simply looks for the nicest tree on that patch of shell and approaches… ]

Excuse me-- Iorveth, is it?

[ smiling, he carries a book in one hand; his other sleeve, empty, shifts in the sea breeze. ]

[depicted]

[Dorian likes it here. It's relaxing, and he has his suspicions about who Asti was, after listening to what others had to say on the subject. He did promise Asti his company.

He flies up on his carpet, and as he approaches, he spots Iorveth. Well, it's not Iorveth's turtle. And he wonders about something.

Dorian guides the carpet down closer to the ground. No need to break his leg in a jump. He steps off, pats the carpet once (Aloysius seems to like the encouragement) and then lets the carpet wander off. It is probably going to fly about the head a couple times; that seems to be what it likes doing there.]

Sorry to interrupt; I've got a meeting I can't miss.

[gaudy]

[ Fenris approaches quietly, the head of the turtle smooth enough that he does not make sound on it like he does in the forest, clumsily out-of-practice as he is there. His broadsword rattles against his back deliberately, because he knows what it is to be paranoid and have others sneak up.

He'd rather not find a sword in his gut for an ill-timed approach. ] Iorveth. [ He doesn't often come here. Before, the feeling of peace and contentment unsettled him. Being happy means little more than knowing it will be taken away sooner or later, to Fenris. After the dream - with the rebel leader, who he refuses to connect to Iorveth's current position with a stubborn tenacity which is neither healthy nor smart - it reminds him of the smell of grass and flowers on a hot Tevinter afternoon, a courtyard and playmates he doesn't quite remember.

The only thing that could possibly bring him here is the only other elf on the turtle. ] Are you busy?

[inseine]

[Why is it that I wander out here? muses Javert dimly to himself as he peers out to the top of Tu Vishan's head. I must quit this annoying habit. Too much time wasted!

The space near the Turtle's head is like a drug. It is only recently that Javert is beginning to consider the spot an extraneous indulgence, despite only choosing to venture out there during his free time.

Javert is a man with a troubled, miserable mind and an equally troubled soul, compounded by his struggles to cope with his afterlife, his ideals, the concept of justice, the recent battles and incidences, the impending war, and his own place in the universe. His calmness in everyday affairs is no coincidence; one could easily chalk it up to an abundance of self-control, but his willpower does need a leg up from time to time. And so he has come to spend increasingly longer chunks of time sharing Tu Vishan's company in silence at a rate of roughly once per week. Each time, he lingers just a few minutes longer, and each time he resumes his work with a renewed sense of calm, his aggravations and anxieties pushed to the back of his mind. Today happens to be his day to empty his thoughts with a lit cigarette, a rare luxury and a breath of fresh air for Javert's overactive neuroses.

If anyone were to ask him, he would be unable to explain why he takes the weekly trip to the turtle's head. And a good thing, too: were he completely aware that it was simply an escape, a 'recharge,' or a coping mechanism, he would cease immediately and allow himself to become consumed with agitation.

Some minutes ago, Javert, with a slow blink and a prickle at the rune on his forehead, had become aware of an additional presence at the turtle's head. Iorveth did not take long to seek out among the shoulder-slopes and embankments. He notices quickly that Iorveth is writing something in his native tongue, something that looks to be quite extensive. Javert hums. What the devil has Iorveth been up to all this time? Spilling state secrets to plenty of others, despite threatening Javert himself with pain of death? Javert's brow pops into a sharp arch, and he plucks his cigarette from his mouth to call out,]

So it is you! Still intact after the disaster last week. [Javert gestures vaguely to the notepad.] Tell me you were struck with genius, and that is the start of some grand plan!

sooooo sorry for the lateness!

[cmdreffingshepard]

[This place is about the only place Shepard can go to (temporarily) calm her near-constant inner turmoil. Sure, she could drink, but getting drunk enough to forget everything she's seen gets expensive these days.

Stupid cybernetics. Stupid Cerberus.

But now she has even more to think about, with dreams and the knowledge of death in her future - the knowledge of dying to save her home. On one hand, she's not surprised. On the other, it's disquieting. She thinks no one should know about their death beforehand.

When she spots Iorveth, she only sighs a little. Maybe it's the effect of this place, maybe it's the lingering effect of the dream, maybe it's just her own weariness, but she's not interested in picking any fights with him. She knows he has his reasons for suspicion - she has a few, herself - and she knows he's trying to do the same thing she is - get this place figured out, to escape.

He's writing on paper, something she's seen more often here than she ever had back home, where basically only hobbyists actually hand write things anymore. Collect actual books with pages, that kind of thing.]

I want to apologize.

[She says it almost before thinking about it, and it almost surprises her a little, but it's true.]