Aranya sat in the dimness, gazing into the slick, iridescent sheen on the water that flowed through the Dalaran sewers, the relative isolation of the Underbelly providing cover for her contemplations. Around her were the glowing and cracked remains of bottles of discarded magical substances, crystals and dust. Despite how well her business with Kazakus and Killian turned profit from all this mana trash delivered to the alchemist's door, it was not the subject that preoccupied her mind.
The sin'dorei woman thought of her past. Things she done, things that would never let her go, and the things that were re-surfacing to take her back to everything she used to be. Was there a way for her to survive it? Was it possible she could do things differently this time around? And who would she be?
She felt a gaze on her before she turned her glance to find the face of Mavas observing her. "Master Hawke," she greeted with a tone of blithe spirits and well-practiced politeness, yet it was clear that the man had come upon her at a time when she was brooding. A thing she was never keen to let others see. "The master of shadows has found the flame out in the darkness, I see. What brings you?"
The warlock stayed silent, fel eyes gleaming as he seemed to just stand there, watching her, never blinking. Finally the sin'dorei spoke, to her side where she wasn't looking, his seemingly normal self vanishing before her eyes as he simply stood next to her.
"You spoke to me once about trust. Trust in you…your trust in captain An'diel. Tell me, has something changed?"
Aranya at first blinked, silently looking back at the man, processing his question.
"No," she said finally, and then looked away. "And yes," she admitted. Some part of her proverbial armor cracked just then, a tiny fracture in the blitheness and bravery she always comported herself with to the eyes of others. "Not in trust, but in…" she trailed off. "I'm supposing you've heard some of my past by now, or pieces of it, at least. What I was and what I did with the Sunwell gone."
A deep breath, a heavy sigh.
"What enemies I made and what they would do to have me pay for what I did to them."
Aranya finally met Mavas' eyes again. "Threats have been made, Mavas. Kurel was a figure in one such threat, that's what's changed."
"Did you tell Phantom about the defenses of Sunspire?" Mavas asked after a long pause, studying her, his body never moving but his eyes flickering like candles. "I need to know the truth, and I need to know exactly what I must do to protect my home." It was obvious the elf was tired, he had a bit of strain on his face, but he could not, would not, falter.
Aranya gave the warlock a look. Her whiskery black brows arched at him like he had just asked THE most utterly out of left-field and completely ridiculous thing that she had heard in years. Sunspire was just as much her home as it was his. And for one who gave every show of being so ardently dedicated to protecting Kurel, he seemed entirely uninterested in who could have made threats on him to the arcanist, or what the nature of that threat even was. She may as well have given him no answer at all.
"No," she answered. "I did not." She rolled her eyes and added, "Furthermore, I haven't even seen Phantom in weeks, so if you're looking for him, then I can't help you and you should be on your way."
The arcanist turned her head with dismissive deliberateness and elegance to turn her eyes to the sheen-slicked water nearby. "Or," she said after a minute. "If you would rather stay and explain what in the fel would ever give you such a fool idea as to think that myself, or Halenvar, or Colpeia would ever have the complete idiocy to go yapping off to someone outside the port - let alone any soul that isn't Blaque, Kurel, or Riz - about all that we put into the defenses of Sunspire Port, you're welcome to sit down and do just that."
The woman's smooth voice positively dripped with her unamusement.
"Blaque has stepped down as Purveyor. I am now Sunspire's Purveyor. Phantom threatened to blow up the Port, to kill everyone inside, and to send Magister Firavel and an army there to murder, and capture Kurel and place him on trial on false charges. They also threatened to erase his mind." Mav slowly lowered to lean down over her. "And he said quite clearly that he had spoken to one of the creators of the defenses…the titan defenses. Now, being as you are and have always seemed to be the chief designer and fabricator of these items…you can see why I came to you first."
"Mmm," uttered Aranya, impassively, after he had finished speaking. She still did not grace him with her gaze, but simply took in all the things he said, putting pieces together and filling in blanks, and then filing them away in her mind. The corner of her mouth pulled up slyly as she said, "Not to pick at your words, Master Hawke, but one would have to capture Kurel before murdering him, no?"
The sorceress chuckled. Then she became all business and command. "Much of what you say I've already been given notice of by other sources. Blaque himself told me - in his way - of his resignation, though it is only now that I come to know that it is you in particular who are his replacement. Lady Crimsonrose and Lord Lomeriel informed me just the other night that Phantom was up to something explosively not good, and I'm further aware that Pompouspants Firavel presses accusations of an absurd nature upon Lledwyn as well. Oh!" She looked at him now, with an expression of a kind that feigned a girl speaking over some particularly amazing gossip with one of her schoolmates, her sarcasm for such light sentiment rather evident. "And that Azure'Eish and An'Diel came to blows! Quite marvelous, that, don't you agree?
Aranya sighed, heavily, and still very unamused, turning her look away from him again. "The sheer mountains of disaster that happen every time I leave for a few weeks never ceases impress on me. And unless you can tell me exactly what Phantom said - word for word - I can only tell you these possibilities," she said, once again looking him in the eye, her smoldering fel green orbs locked to the candles of his. "One: Phantom did speak with one of the defense system's three creators, but speaking with someone at all is not always what it seems. Could be about anything from bloody swords to butter-knives. Speaking with someone does not necessarily mean speaking of the matters that you are lead to believe, and it is very possible that he would say one thing to have you believe something else."
The arcanist continued, "Two: someone is either divining or spying on port affairs, whether or not Phantom has in fact spoken to anyone, and in such a case we have a mole in our midst." Her tone of voice began to seethe, "And I, for one, would be gratified to hear of a swift end to such a problem… Alas, Hawke," she turned her gaze away again. "It may, possibly, be a problem you'll have to see to yourself." Her tone went softer, but there was a weight in it that sounded purposeful, "You're not the only one who desires to protect Kurel or Sunspire, and Phantom is not the worst thing that could happen to either one."
Mav listened to her, never losing her gaze, and he stood up then as she finished. "At the moment, he is, and considering everything, I had assumed you would be more concerned. However, my question was answered, I appreciate your honesty. It leaves for me to interrogate Halenvar, and Colpeia in turn, if they are also tied with the construction of the item."
"Have a good evening, Aranya, I will not trouble you again." he offered a small bow, before turning to move away.
"Be careful, Mavas," called Aranya after him, and despite how her words had simmered to him just a moment ago, she was in truth quite sincere.
She did not, however, press him to stay or tell him that he was very, very wrong. He couldn't help her do what needed to be done, anyway.
Or so she felt at that moment.