Eshal is, indeed, the tallest person crowded around the fire. There are a few others, minding their own business, mostly playing cards or dice or discussing their work as they eat. Eshal herself is nursing a mug of something alcoholic, a jug of the stuff sitting before her on the table.
The thing is, she hasn't a clue who 'Miss Jones' is or looks like. Flint just motioned her, and so Eshal figured she'd follow up. 'Joooones?' whispered into the crystal was less a joke, and more joking to cover for the fact that she had no idea if a single syllable would activate the damn thing.
So she keeps drinking, peering over some maps of Tevinter's territory, waiting for the illustrious Miss Jones to arrive.
It might have been a bit easier if the woman looked like she was looking for someone. Kitty eyes someone unfamiliar, who's definitely tall, but who also looks pretty engaged with other stuff. And it's not like she feels shy or anything, but the thought of approaching someone and asking them hey are you the person who called me is so embarrassing, even anticipating what's to come, that she feels preemptively anxious and sort of wants to slink back to her room. Besides, she doesn't know this woman, doesn't know what to expect from her, even what she wants...
So she quietly goes over and gets herself a cup of...Well, not tea, whatever they're passing off for tea these days. And a little bit of shortbread, more flour than sweetness.
Luckily, or unluckily, Eshal has little in the spirit of shyness. She doesn't know who Miss Jones is or what she looks like, but 'Miss' means woman usually, and usually women outside the Qun look the way they were born. When someone fitting that description ambles over with drink and food. Eshal looks up, picks up another cup on the table, and pours some of her questionable alcohol in it.
The woman being offered alcohol is not Miss Jones. Kitty, however, is just behind that woman, so that when the soldier that Eshal had addressed shakes her head (and grabs the alcohol she was poured; she's not giving that up), Kitty hesitates, then says, "I am."
She is just a girl; no question of that. She's almost to the end of her teenagerly gawkiness, but it's still there, as is a softness in her cheeks that doesn't quite match the hardness of her jaw or the watchfulness of her eyes. She sits, tea in hand, gaze trained on Eshal, and asks -
Eshal lets out a breath of laughter. "Well, good luck with that shit."
She refills her own mug, drinking it calmly. "Knocks most humans flat."
And then, up at Jones. "Since you wanna cut to the chase, I just wanna pick your brains, nothing big. I talked to Benedice-" whatever his name is- "about how things are in Minrathous. Seeing as he's in a cage and you're not, I figure your word's probably better."
The thing is, Kitty knows that this woman got named head of diplomacy. And Kitty knows that there ought to be something coming down from the leadership over her involvement with Benedict and his stupidity. It hasn't come yet, but - it ought to be. And who better to deliver it than the head of diplomacy? No - she's not going to let her guard down.
So she wraps her hands around her cup, and lifts her chin, and says, "Go ahead, then. Ask away."
And Eshal sees a woman in front of Ben-Hissrath, desperately trying to say the right thing to avoid reeducation. You're not going to get any useful answers out of that.
...But what choice does she have? Jones isn't like the kid in the cage, desperate for scraps. What she's staring down is resolve, not terror. You can only win over resolve by working with it, and Eshal has no clue what Jones' goals are, or if she even has any.
When push comes to shove, Eshal defaults to her favorite tactic: scouring honesty.
"I'm gonna be flat with you," the term in Trade is be straight, but whatever. "I have... maybe two thirds of three plans. All of them need more information to move forward. I'm ex-Qun; what I know about Tevinter could fit in this mug."
She holds it up for emphasis.
"So tell me what you saw in Minrathous. Were the people happy? Scared? What kind of people did you see? How easy was it to get in and out?"
But Kitty shakes her head. Here, at least, she can be honest.
"We weren't in Minrathous." She wraps her hands around her cup of tea, looking steadily at Eshal. "We only traveled to two estates. And in between, I kept hidden. So the intelligence I can give you is - " A shrug. "Well, what I know is about as much as what you know, really."
"Huh," she says, and then, "well, I can work with that. Not every lead goes there."
A shrug, but she doesn't get up to leave, just sits, thinking something through.
"One thing, though. I talked to the kid, he mentioned... he got cagey where blood magic came up. Seemed odd to me, being a Vint and all. They doing anything weird with that shit that you saw?"
Wrong move, but Eshal isn't sure the girl actually has the information she needs anyway. She slides the jug forward. "This is Maraas-lok," she says. "Strongest drink there is. Take it in sips. Or sell it; some folk will pay high for it."
And to think the last one was a bad move; it has nothing on this. Kitty's head rears back, and her dark eyes flash with an unadulterated and dangerous rage.
"Sorry," she says, voice high and incredulous, "is it that I look like a drunkard, a beggar, or a drunken beggar, that you pay for my time with alcohol for me to peddle? Shall I perhaps find a few other poor folk to pass it to? Is that your intention?"
"Oh, so you meant to insult me?" She rises to her feet now, heavy brows so furrowed they practically look like a single line. "So I wouldn't forget you? What a brilliant bloody plan."
Either this girl is the child she seems, or someone gave her alcohol once and it seriously fucked her over. Regardless, there's no point in pissing on the wound. Eshal keeps herself from rolling her eyes, shrugging-- who cares, really.
"I never meant it as an insult," she says. "Where I'm from, it's a great gift. But if you see it as an insult..." She leans down, takes the jug. "More for me."
She didn't, though. Not really. Oh, sure, she answered the questions posed to her, but the answers weren't really in the spirit of it all. I've made contact with and have a network of Tevinter freedom fighters, that's probably relevant for this woman. And she's almost furious enough to snarl about it to her - But no. She's learned more caution than that.
So instead, she just tosses her head and spits, "Sure. Whatever." Then - "My time doesn't get bought. Least of all bought with your cast-off swill. So you can keep it."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-09-29 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-09-29 01:33 pm (UTC)C'mon, I just need eye-witness shit from somebody who was in Minrathos more recently than fucking Flint.
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Date: 2019-09-29 01:36 pm (UTC)Let's meet in the dining hall instead. I could use a bit of something to eat.
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Date: 2019-09-29 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-09-29 03:38 pm (UTC)[ Kitty shows up a few minutes later. Her hands are tucked into her pockets, her face guarded. ]
switching to prose bc im lazy :*
Date: 2019-09-29 03:59 pm (UTC)The thing is, she hasn't a clue who 'Miss Jones' is or looks like. Flint just motioned her, and so Eshal figured she'd follow up. 'Joooones?' whispered into the crystal was less a joke, and more joking to cover for the fact that she had no idea if a single syllable would activate the damn thing.
So she keeps drinking, peering over some maps of Tevinter's territory, waiting for the illustrious Miss Jones to arrive.
no subject
Date: 2019-10-01 02:05 am (UTC)So she quietly goes over and gets herself a cup of...Well, not tea, whatever they're passing off for tea these days. And a little bit of shortbread, more flour than sweetness.
no subject
Date: 2019-10-01 02:14 am (UTC)She slides it across to the woman.
"You Miss Jones?"
no subject
Date: 2019-10-01 02:28 am (UTC)She is just a girl; no question of that. She's almost to the end of her teenagerly gawkiness, but it's still there, as is a softness in her cheeks that doesn't quite match the hardness of her jaw or the watchfulness of her eyes. She sits, tea in hand, gaze trained on Eshal, and asks -
"What is it you want?"
no subject
Date: 2019-10-01 02:38 am (UTC)She refills her own mug, drinking it calmly. "Knocks most humans flat."
And then, up at Jones. "Since you wanna cut to the chase, I just wanna pick your brains, nothing big. I talked to Benedice-" whatever his name is- "about how things are in Minrathous. Seeing as he's in a cage and you're not, I figure your word's probably better."
no subject
Date: 2019-10-01 02:45 am (UTC)So she wraps her hands around her cup, and lifts her chin, and says, "Go ahead, then. Ask away."
no subject
Date: 2019-10-01 02:56 am (UTC)...But what choice does she have? Jones isn't like the kid in the cage, desperate for scraps. What she's staring down is resolve, not terror. You can only win over resolve by working with it, and Eshal has no clue what Jones' goals are, or if she even has any.
When push comes to shove, Eshal defaults to her favorite tactic: scouring honesty.
"I'm gonna be flat with you," the term in Trade is be straight, but whatever. "I have... maybe two thirds of three plans. All of them need more information to move forward. I'm ex-Qun; what I know about Tevinter could fit in this mug."
She holds it up for emphasis.
"So tell me what you saw in Minrathous. Were the people happy? Scared? What kind of people did you see? How easy was it to get in and out?"
no subject
Date: 2019-10-02 01:15 am (UTC)"We weren't in Minrathous." She wraps her hands around her cup of tea, looking steadily at Eshal. "We only traveled to two estates. And in between, I kept hidden. So the intelligence I can give you is - " A shrug. "Well, what I know is about as much as what you know, really."
no subject
Date: 2019-10-02 01:30 am (UTC)A shrug, but she doesn't get up to leave, just sits, thinking something through.
"One thing, though. I talked to the kid, he mentioned... he got cagey where blood magic came up. Seemed odd to me, being a Vint and all. They doing anything weird with that shit that you saw?"
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Date: 2019-10-02 01:44 am (UTC)"His mum's one," she responds shortly. "A blood mage. A nasty one."
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Date: 2019-10-02 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-10-02 02:36 am (UTC)"I'm alive, so obviously not that bad."
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Date: 2019-10-02 02:56 am (UTC)And she stands, turning to go.
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Date: 2019-10-02 10:00 pm (UTC)"Sorry," she says, voice high and incredulous, "is it that I look like a drunkard, a beggar, or a drunken beggar, that you pay for my time with alcohol for me to peddle? Shall I perhaps find a few other poor folk to pass it to? Is that your intention?"
no subject
Date: 2019-10-02 10:02 pm (UTC)"It's a gift. It's rare and strong. If you don't like it, pour it in the sea." She shrugs. "I don't like to be forgot. Now you won't."
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Date: 2019-10-02 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-10-02 10:39 pm (UTC)"I never meant it as an insult," she says. "Where I'm from, it's a great gift. But if you see it as an insult..." She leans down, takes the jug. "More for me."
no subject
Date: 2019-10-02 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-10-02 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-10-03 12:19 am (UTC)So instead, she just tosses her head and spits, "Sure. Whatever." Then - "My time doesn't get bought. Least of all bought with your cast-off swill. So you can keep it."
(no subject)
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