A Precarious Predicament - [Iseult, Crimson, Private]

[Ci'aran Leonard]

Time Stamp: 14th Brightening of Cryaxtum, Era XIV Post Fractum

It had been a much longer day than Ci’aran had realized. Truthfully, it had been a much longer –week- than Ci’aran had realized. Bundling up much warmer than usual he cast a long sour look at the mirror in the washing room, sighing rather sadly at his haphazard appearance. Where there used to be the clean shave of an adolescent face, the unruly tumble of mahogany hair and the sharp discernment of cerulean blue eyes, now stood a much haughtier appearance.

His chin for example, had stubble, evidence of his lack of shaving… his hair though still unruly, was rather matted on one side as dark circles foreshadowed his eyes. When was the last time he had a good night’s sleep? He could not remember.

Dragging himself to his room, Ci’aran yawned loudly, stretching his arms as he flopped unceremoniously on his chair facing the window. It was not a view to be proud of; outside there was no decoration save for the practice field, empty in the early morning with the exception of the occasional sparrow that landed on the affixed equipment.

As much as he wanted to sleep he could not. Not after that event in Malvoix. The few listless hours of sleep that he could salvage for the capricious embrace of Night was interrupted by his own fears, tensions enhanced by nightmares and a strangled gasp.

“I have to get up.” Ci’aran groaned loudly, verbally wishing he could just crawl under a rock as he stood up, his muscles creaking slowly as he opened his foot locker, pulling out his usually traditional uniform. He was not going to need that today. Taking out another set of clothing, this time a more a formal attire; a black buttoned frockcoat with oversized lapels and a clean white shirt sporting a dark black tie, Ci’aran looked blankly at it before setting that aside as well. He was not going to need that until later.

Digging deeper into his locker Ci’aran gave a small grunt as he tore out his regular civilians clothes, donning his pants and shirt and casually wrapping his Le Protectorat Du Paix cloak around himself as he scanned his surroundings. Although the Everwinter in Jaedaxia had long faded, Ci’aran could not help but feel a small chill clandestinely serenade his soul as he headed for the door.

The memories of Malvoix it seemed proved too morbid for his thoughts.

He needed to get something to drink, shave perhaps, and meet Iseult at the townsquare before he began the second part of his mission.

Perhaps it’ll lay his memories to rest.

[Iseult Fluersdotter]

Iseult had needed to take off work. Explaining the why of it had been awkward. She didn't think anyone was really permitted to know about it and thus she'd had to lie and Iseult wasn't really very good at lying. In fact, she was rather horrible at it. Blunt honesty was more Iseult's thing. She found it easier to speak the truth, face the rage, than to confuse the issue with unnecessary lies. In turn, she hated when others offered her a lie. If she could be honest, why not them as well? But she lied, explaining to Master Dunnlevin that she had a family emergency to deal with, but there was little reason why she wouldn't be in the following brightening.

Because Iseult was an early riser, waking was little trouble for her and she dressed as she always did--plain pants and a shirt with a set of boots. The small squares that she'd been given were a trial to tuck away, as she desperately did not want to activate them, but she again placed them in a small purse that she could dangle at her hip and Iseult felt content enough that little damage could be done to them in the interim.

She still had her reservations about the agreement that they'd made. They'd been banned and she'd stayed away, having no reason to really go scope the place out anyway. Now they were going back and perhaps they'd been forgotten...but then how many half-breed thelyris did they have running up into their clock towers on a regular basis? Very few, she figured.

Which brought her unease in the matter to what really bothered her--the thought of something altering her appearance, be it just arcana and an illusion or not, was not something that settled her stomach in the slightest. If anything, her gut churned restlessly as she made her way to the townsquare. There she'd meet Ci'aran...and she wasn't particularly looking forward to the rest of it.

At the square, she stood there and waited until Ci'aran came into view. She fidgetted with a loose string on her shirt, brow furrowed as she wished she had a scissor to clip the damned thing off. Oh well. She tried to ignore it, but only found herself tugging absently at it in some fervent desire to be rid of it. Where was Ci'aran anyway?
Probably taking his time, smelling the roses...

When he finally came into view, Iseult straightened herself a little and quirked a slight nod in his direction. She fidgetted, feeling edgy, uncomfortable. "I still don't know about this, Aran," she admitted, adjusting the fall of her braid so that it swung behind her. "What if it goes wrong?"

[Ci'aran Leonard]

There was a thought that nagged at the recesses of Ci'aran conscious soul. Like a spider, swinging precipitously over the edge, held null only by the thinnest of strands, he felt as if his world was balancing on a single act. The fragility of the issue at hand could not be ignored; its severity not to be underestimated.

At first the thoughts were easy to dismiss. The threats after all, were unlikely, given the disguise and the plan at hand. They had escaped, or been kicked out of Malvoix before, it made much sense they could do it a second time, even without the hand of a clock wizard. But as the day progressed, and his footsteps drew closer and closer to the town square, he felt as if each attempt to get closer, was weighed down with troubles, insecurities and fear.

Like Iseult, Ci'aran had fears of his own. Unlike Iseult, none were about personal security; losing his money, his job; after all this was a mission with the Protectorat du Paix, his job security was about as secure as it -could- get, that much was certain. Rather he was more concerned with another problem entirely; Iseults safety. While her company added wisdom and wit in even the most tenuous and gravest of situations, it also added the vulnerability of him having to protect her. Was it wise for him to involve her? She would've volunteered at a hearts' murmur, but was it the right thing to do?

The greatest of ironies, Ci'aran admitted as he continued his walk, in regards to Iseult, was that at first glance she did look like she needed protection; fragile, thin, withdrawn. When you got to know her however, you realized she was better fortified that an entire garrison. Beneath that core however, she was still a woman, and feelings could remain dormant for only so long. Thus he reconsidered: Sure, the success hinged on the feasibility of a lone man entering a museum, but was it worth the risk?

When he saw Iseult, however, the figure growing larger as he approached, he could not help but feel a slight glow within himself. She represented a humanity that he knew little of, what he tried to control through impetuousness or humor, she saw through with seriousness and truth. Despite his best attempts at acting reassured and secure with his decision, the nature of her question plowed through his best defenses and reduced his brow to creases of worry.

"I... don't think that I have a choice." Ci'aran said slowly, his eyes never leaving the ground as he kicked the cobblestone absentmindedly with the heel of his boot, he should not have had Iseult involved in the first place, "But you do." Ci'aran hesitated slightly before continuing, "I think perhaps, Iseult, that this is one you ought to sit out on. I don't think I could live with myself if something happened to you. You're the one level-headed person in Jaedaxia I know, without you around for advice, I don't know if I'd be going east or west."

Humor always seemed to be Ci'aran's venue of choice when it came to pleas. While his soul for eternity was with Sabine, Iseult represented a side of family he never had. A counsel that was true regardless of the situation, and an honesty that constantly defies its situation. He could not lose her.

[Iseult Fluersdotter]

Iseult could see that Ci'aran was in a strange mood. Usually he was jovial, easy enough to joke or move through a situation with a smile. Now he brooded and seemed a trace reticient, as if something tugged at him and he was reluctant to discuss it. As he shuffled and nudged at the ground with his foot, staring at the cobblestones like they were the most fascinating things he had ever set eyes on, Iseult folded her arms across her chest and waited for him to say whatever was on his mind.

When it finally came out, she shook her head, breath hissing through her teeth. "Don't be stupid." She didn't elaborate on that, just let the three words hang in the air as she stared at him with green eyes shrouded in black. Her mouth was set firmly, her reservations seemingly evaporated as she stood there. Or perhaps stubborn persistence had managed to win out--on her part and his. She wasn't going to turn her back on him and let him walk into a lion's den with no one at his back. Even if she knew next to nothing of taking care of herself.

In that context it was probably unfair. He'd have to look out for himself and look out for her. Perhaps she should have felt a little guilty, but at the same time Iseult was accustomed to playing the part of mother hen. She didn't intend to let him walk off and continue on with it unless she was too. Even if her reservations about everything made her nervous, her stomach twisting restlessly.

"If something happens to me, you'll still survive. You've survived without knowing me up until now, no reason you can't after...whatever." She sighed, shrugged. Perhaps that was morbid. Or simply realistic. "If you're still going in there, then so am I. That's all there really is to it. I won't be the coward turning her back on a friend because it might be a little risky."

So she kept any of her other fears to herself--and there were plenty--and started walking towards where they were supposed to go. "Come on. No sense in wasting time. Better we get there before they start wondering whether or not we're actually coming."

[Ci'aran Leonard]

"I'm not being stupid." Ci'aran countered, a small waver in his voice betraying his insecurity. He opened his mouth more, to complete his protestations but Iseult had equipped a stare, so serrated, he felt as if pushing the issue further was analogous to tightening a noose around his neck. "I just care about you that's all. Telath should have you around on a permanent basis."

Shrugging the burden off his shoulders however, Ci'aran accepted the situation as it was. He ought to have nipped the problem in the bud, earlier, if Iseult did not back down from the mage in the clock tower, how could he expect her to back down now, after everything had transpired?

He disagreed, vehemently of course, that there was no difference should Iseult survive or not. That he himself, had existed –before- he ever knew an Iseult was a very morbid and naïve approach. Sure he would survive, in the definition of the word, to exist and to breathe. But how much of him would be lost? More than he would like, more than he could care to count.

He made the determination then, that he would just have to protect her. Since his inability to reason prevented her for involving herself. Truthfully, he preferred if she did come. She had logic and reasoning beyond any he knew, he just did not like putting people at risk. Particularly Iseult of all others.

“Yes. Lets get going.”

It was only a few short strides to the Siege Principal de la Protectorat du Paix, located in the nestled corner of La Quartier du Sud. Even in the rising light, it still looked rather droll and unremarkable. A clay slab building in the middle of a deserted street, no crook or miscreant would ever foster the foolish idea of gallivanting around the Protectorat.

This was familiar territory to him. It was ironic in fact, for his barracks was only a few short steps away and the walk seemed someone reminiscent to déjà vu, they had planned to meet early, for the events leading up to tonight’s dinner was not until evening, but he wanted to make sure they were mentally and physically prepared for the task ahead.

All excuses for his unabated nervousness.

Pushing the door open to enter La Protectorat du Paix, he was greeted immediately by the dwarf captain that was as iconic as his post, casting a salute, Ci’aran walked straight forward, past the entry desk, and through the hallway to Captain Alsaille’s office. He knew the captain to be a punctilious person, and as such he knocked only twice on the door.

“Recruit Ci’aran Leonard, with Mademoiselle Fluersdotter.” Ci’aran said clearly through the door, “Here as scheduled, sir.”

[Iseult Fluersdotter]

Iseult shrugged slightly with a faint, amused smile curving over her mouth. "I could think of some few who would disagree with you," she pointed out bluntly. Not that it mattered. It was comforting to know she had a friend who thought highly of her. She hadn't had that before coming to Jaedaxia. In Trysvale there were too many things to overcome, too many barriers, too many prejudices. Here it was slightly less, but still there were some. But at least she'd found a friend, a good one at that.

But on they went, striding down the avenue a few short paces to the Siege Principal de la Protectorat du Paix. It wasn't really a place Iseult generally saw herself frequenting and she felt odd as she remained near to Ci'aran, since this was a place he was accustomed to. He knew the people, the grounds, the ins and outs and what was expected of a person once they stepped in through the doorway.

She remained quiet, mouth shut firmly as she glanced around her, taking the place in. As a glassblower, she seldom had reason to be in formal offices. It made her a little uncomfortable as she did her best to refrain from fidgeting, clenching blunt fingernails into her palms idly, the sensation of it enough to keep her mind occupied as she stood there.

"I still can't believe we're doing this," she murmured quietly, almost under her breath. But they'd gone over this. She was here and that was that. They'd spoken over her accompanying him and this was the way of it. It just didn't mean that she had completely convinced herself that she was comfortable being there, however. She thought of the disguises they'd be donning and was torn between dread and amusement. A couple. Some sort of potion. Too many variables that Iseult didn't know how to feel about. Well, time was narrowing in on them. It was too late to spend all this time worrying.

[Crimson]

It was late afternoon when Ci'aran and Iseult arrived at the headquarters belonging to La Protectorat du Paix. Several tired-looking guards were walking out as they appraoched the stairs, one of them holding a door open for Iseult and Ci'aran to proceed inside. The narrow hall led to the unruly dwarf who greeted the pair with a nod followed by a gesture inside. "Captain Alsaille is waitin' fer ya", he told the eldest Leonard, "he's in the store room with Jasmine." The female, he could have been bothered less by. She was far too tall for him any brightening. And with a grunt, the dwarf sent the pair on their way.

More blue-and-gold clad warriors criss-crossed along the hallway leading to storage room. The location was situated at the very end of a series of halls, making its way past the classrooms that were used to hold briefings and meetings; including the mess hall and some conference rooms and offices belongings to the string of officers and captains that were organized into the headquarters. Finally, after some few minutes of walking they arrived at the familiar room. It smelled of burning metal and smoke, and the pinging of swords coming to life was evident even from a dozen paces away.

Should Ci'aran venture inside, he'd find Captain Alsaille in his usual uniform complete with shortsword and military boots speaking with Jasmine. She had her fury of brown hair tired in a pony tail this brightening, and she looked awfully more imtimidating while she wielded her hammer effortlessly as she conversed.

"Ah, Leonard", the Captain said with a bright smile, "bonjour. And m'lady Iseult. Serale." Alsaille gave a curt bow toward the vagran then allowed the pair to return his greeting before beginning. "Sorry for meeting you here", he nodded, "but this is the only room with a private exit." He shrugged before regarding Ci'aran then Iseult. "Are you both ready? We have a carriage set up outside, plus you should take these."

Jasmine then walked over to a table and took two scrolls, giving one to each visitor. "These are invites to the Mavloix this evening. They entail that you are foreign guests. It should get you inside, no questions asked. I suggest that you take the potions during your ride to the castle. It will help maximize the time you have undercover."

[Iseult Fluersdotter]

ooc: this is what happens when you have various windows open - you post to the wrong tab

I'll edit this later

[Iseult Fluersdotter]

Iseult was more the tag-along in this situation than really anyone useful. She proceeded where allowed, followed when led somewhere, and remained largely silent as they came into the company of Captain Alsaille and a woman Iseult did not know. She glanced towards the Captain, nodding slightly as he greeted them.

"Ready as can be, I suppose." But she was still nervous and uncertain. But she would go, because she had said she would and because she would not abandon Ci'aran to some uncertain fate. Even if it meant a carriage ride. Another one.

She took the scroll from the woman as it was proffered to her. She did not look at it, but nodded as they informed of their contents. "Names. Do we use our own? Or different ones?" she asked after a moment, then grew uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I'm not accustomed to these sorts of things. I don't know what's the right...procedure...that you follow."