"Do you really think he deserved to die like that?" The woman's face was hidden beneath her favourite hat which was placed atop a maroon bandana wrapped about her golden tresses now worn loosely about her shoulders, braided and woven in random places. That's how he'd know her in the brothel, 'the Rivaini in the red bandanna', she'll get whatever you need done, if the coin is right, they'd said. She certainly looked the part of the shifty rogue now, after months at sea.
"Well, it was hardly my fault alone, and they believed him a traitor anyhow." Cahil shrugged, tracing a finger absentmindedly over an elaborate carving of a woman dancing with a skeleton upon the ship's railing.
"They only believed that because that's how we planned it." she lifted the hat slightly so he could see her smirk. "You must have been a delightful child, you know, all work and no play, convinced the world owes you shit because your mother was an elf. Are you surprised I guessed that, after all this time? I'll bet you used to lie awake at night plotting and scheming your revenge on the world." She seemed almost sad, this wasn't her usual teasing. Maybe it was because he'd told her the plan, his master plan. They'd pull into every major port from Par Vollen to Orlais, gather ships, gather a fleet, and they'd take the island of Estwatch, just south of Rivain, by force. It would be a Repiblic of Thieves, a rogue's paradise. No kings, no government. They would set up a trading company, he had a mind made for business and so did she. At least, that was the plan. It had always been his plan, working her and the crew into it came later. What authority would dare take Estwatch from them? The Chevaliers? The Templars? Nobody had bothered to stop the pirates before, why should they object to a confederacy of them?
"No, I'm not surprised you figured that out at all." He paused before continuing. "And what did you lie awake and think about as a child, Raen?" The question seemed expected, he didn't know anything about her other than there was no way she was raised in Rivain- though even guessing that had been difficult enough, the woman was a master as hiding things. Yet she still delayed the answer. The sun was rising, a pretty sight hovering above the Amaranthine Ocean like a fresh smear of blood.
"I thought about nothing." It wasn't the sort of 'nothing' one said to allay further questioning or to evade a topic. It slipped from her lips as if it were tears from her eyes, as if she were ashamed of it. She prided herself on her ability to think, to decide, to plan. He knew that.
"The world works-" he began.
"Maker help you if you say 'in mysterious ways' Cahil." she gripped the railing, leaning as far as she dared. He roped a hand in her loose linen shirt- a cautionary measure, a side-effect from fighting back to back with her for months.
"I was going to say the world works in a brutal fashion- fate will bend you until you either break or change your shape completely. The beatings don't become less frequent as you get older, you just get used to the smell of your own blood and learn to move past it." It was a poor attempt at consolation, but it was the kind of encouragement she'd allow.
"How very inspirational Captain." she scoffed half-heartedly. "Y'know, for all my teasing, I do believe you're a better Captain than he was. If I didn't, I'd have voted against you, and turned all the Rivaini crewmembers against you." It was her sort of compliment.
"Thank you. I think. Shall we prepare to Dock?" he released her with a lingering pat on the back. She'd done good work. He always said that to himself whenever they spoke like this, or when they did more than speak. It's just business. She's a good investment.
"Aye Captain" she turned and began to climb the ropes nearest to her, calling out for the crew to get their asses up and ready to pull into port. This was to be the first step upon their most important journey yet. Securing the captaincy of 'The Griffon' was only a minor piece of the puzzle.
"Time to move boys" she roared as the men hauled ropes in every which way, securing the gargantuan galley by Kirkwall's dock. The city loomed above them, cold and grey. Statues of slaves towered above them. Kirkwall was indeed the opposite of welcoming. No wonder the mages rebelled.
The Blooming Rose was nice enough, far nicer than The Black Cat, anyhow. Cahil sat in the corner whispering in the ear of a dark-haired human. All bets were off when they pulled into port. She'd have to find somewhere else to sit. The perfume in the air was warm, stifling. She had better order a drink before she left, make the trek from the docks worthwhile. "Any news from Rivain?" she asked the bartender, sliding two gold pieces over the counter.
"Yes Serah, about the Circle. Terrible thing." he spoke with an expression that led her to believe whatever had transpired was not, in his opinion, terrible in the least.
"What about it?" she kept her tone light, disinterested, for the sake of the pair of Templars in the corner.
His voice had dropped to a whisper, "They invoked the Rite. I hear the mages heard about all the strife here and started getting ideas. Something to do with spirit healers and possessions, heathen traditions and all that. Templars aren't taking chances no more, especially not since all the uprisings in the Free Marches. Here was bad enough, then Ostwick, The White bloody Spire and now Rivain."
She could hear the Templars laughing in the corner so very clearly, as if they were breathing down her neck. Her fists clenched her tankard. How silly of her to forget, in the Marches she was light-skinned enough to pass as a native, the bartender had naturally assumed she would not be offended by the 'heathen' comment. The could of the dark-haired girl chuckling darkly mixed with the Templar's mirth. Raen could feel the pressure at the base of her skull mounting. It was time to go. She caught Cahil's eye as she turned to leave. For half a second it seemed as if he might join her, but he did not. She didn't care. Before she took her leave though she noticed the elven girl pressed against a wall uncomfortably by a Templar who didn't seem to be listening to her protests. It couldn't hurt to make an ever so small scene. "I believe this young lady has a prior engagement, Ser Templar." she stated loudly, loud enough for the Madam to have heard. "Piss off, bitch." he retorted, unconvincingly.
"I see, so you won't mind me contacting the Knight Captain about your after-hours entertainment?" she smiled sweetly. That did the trick. He slunk back to the corner and almost immediately was attended by a chirpy blonde human. Raen pretended not to notice the elven girl's tears as she placed a small coin purse in the girl's shaking hands. "A word of advice; they only give what they think you're going to take." And with that small and perhaps unhelpful or at least undesirable pearl of wisdom, she was gone.
Her contact squealed like a stuck pig when she slammed him against the stone of a Lowtown alleyway with one arm. "I said, where are they meeting?" she growled, eyes burning.
"The Temple of Sacred Ashes!" he cried.
"And what news from Ostwick?" she snapped. His eyes were practically popping out of their sockets. "The Marcher lords are all demanding an end to the conflict, as I said, and they are led by Lord Trevelyan. He lost a relative or something in the Ostwick Uprising. Oh please, the Templars will kill me. Let me go. Please." She did. Thankful he hadn't made her use too much force. She would have to move quickly.
The ominous looking sign of The Hanged Man loomed over her as she pushed open the door. Those crewmembers who weren't at the Rose were there, more out of habit than actual poverty. She found herself in the same position, forces of habit and all that. The portly man occupying the table furthest from the bar waved her over, the man sitting opposite him was engrossed in the hand of cards he had just been offered. His cheeks were rosy, as they usually were, though it was barely visible under his dark complexion. Briggins was by far the kindest of the crew, he'd never once questioned her and had defended her when others did and she knew he had known Cahil since he was a child, Briggins was like a father to him. Though the former loathed to admit it. She strolled over, making sure to look at the other man's cards before sitting down beside him.
"Evening there, Rae. How're things in Hightown?" he chuckled. The thought of lords and ladies traipsing around in their finery was still laughable to some members of the crew since their cut of the profits steadily increased as Cahil grew more bold, she was grateful. "I hope you brought your coin purse Daveth.", he chuckled at the painfully straight-faced man next to her. Daveth had but one pair, a poor hand to say the least, and now Briggins knew that from the way Raen scratched the scar on her lip. Helping the crew win at cards had been extremely helpful when she had first boarded. It was an excellent way to earn trust, if one was careful enough.
"Same as ever, I'm afraid." She could tell he was waiting for her to go on. Daft though he may act, Briggins was as far from an imbecile as one could get. He'd figured her out within weeks of her boarding 'The Griffon' for the first time. She'd used a spell, well, she wasn't even sure it was a spell, just an action of the desperate, to slice a mercenary that had snuck up on Cahil, from head to toe. Naturally, Briggins' eye was on Cahil and within moments had turned to the woman standing halfway across the ship with her hands raised. She knew he had noticed, even though he never said a word. She wasn't willing to be the one to continue the conversation, so she avoided the man's eyes while busying herself pulling her hair up into a braid with a series of gold, fan-shaped clips. The raise in wages and loot was not lost on her, considering she got the lion's share of female clothing and jewellery. The Orlesian treasure galleys were undoubtedly her favourite prize.
"You all right, Rae? You didn't have family in the Circle, did you?" he tilted his head, concerned. He was clever, it was an innocent enough question. One that she ignored.
"I'm going to need to ask Cahil a favour. He's not going to like it, but I'm hoping he'll do it anyway."
Briggins sighed, "Well if anyone could convince him to do something he won't like, I'd say it'd be you." The comment wasn't what she was expecting to hear. "Our Cahil may be vain, painfully single-minded and occasionally brutal - only when he's frustrated or coerced, mind you- but he's nothing if not loyal to those he believes worthy. And by the Sun, you'd have to have made the cut by now." She wasn't sure, not today. Cahil wasn't as pliable as a Templar nor as faithful as a friend but it didn't matter, she'd have to try.
She didn't seem human when she watched him like that, golden eyes molten in the candlelight. It wasn't like her to wait for him, she'd usually be off doing Maker knows what with Maker knows who at this hour. But then again, she was not a woman one understood, she someone to watch, someone to sharped like a blade, someone to mourn. She looked beautiful like this, sat like a Queen atop silken sheets, hair draped over both shoulders. He wanted to call her a Siren, she would take it as a compliment, he'd said it before.
For a long time she did not say anything, only watched him undress from across the room. Something hung in the air between them, it wasn't the whores at the Rose, Raen couldn't care less about them. "I heard about the Circle…" he rested a hand with his thumb upon his first-mate's cheek, running it roughly along her cheekbones and in her hair. He would have been gentle had he not known she liked otherwise. He was getting too used to this, they were getting too used to one another. In quiet moments like this he wanted to pick her up and throw her overboard, to prove she wasn't real, that she was some creature from the deep come to fill him with the weight of alien happiness at midnight violence. She would drag him down with her if given the chance, he knew. She didn't let him finish the statement before pulling him down to press her lips against his.
As their breathing slowed she turned on him, as if wielding a blade, she reached the point of the evening. "I need you to take me to Ferelden. There's something I've got to do, at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. When I'm done, I'll reimburse you the cost of the journey, plus the return."
"Is this about the Mages? C'mon Raen, what can you do for them?" he sighed.
"I don't want to do anything for them, if they haven't got the sense or the balls to fight for themselves, they they deserve to be cooped up in Circles. You know how I feel about that." He did, only because he had asked once. Her response had surprised him, he'd have thought she would have sympathised with the Mages.
"Then what is it you've got to do?" he mused quietly, nonchalantly.
"Rise from the dead." And with that final word, she left, clothes bundled up in her arms. It didn't surprise Cahil, she had never stayed before. She was dragging him down with her, into the blue. He knew it. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to let her. Estwatch would still be there when they came back.