Snippet #1673437

located in The Assassins' Guild, a part of Revelation: The Cure, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Assassins' Guild

Tallest building in District Gamma, and a reminder that the Assassins are always present- especially when you can't see them.

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Amon leaned forward as the little mage–woman spoke, resting his chin on his folded hands and tilting his head slightly to one side. Anyone with the inclination to study mannerisms would be able to understand without difficulty where Loki had gained many of hers. At first, he was simply inclined to be amazed even still that a person could live the life this young lady had and not be made unbearably bitter or defeated by it. Granted, he got disproportionate exposure to the embittered ones, being who he was, but when this was accounted for, Pandora was still most extraordinary in all the wrong ways. Well, wrong if you wanted to survive, that was.

Still, when he thought about it, he realized that she had a point, in her own way, and it was one that had not necessarily escaped him either. He didn’t know much about Aram Azazel as the man was rather secretive and Ishtar wasn’t exactly willing to speak to him extensively on the subject of the little underground leader, and he hadn’t thought to interrogate the one before him on the point because she didn’t seem to, either.

He was left with the inquisitive overlarge blue eyes and a great deal of silence, and he exhaled softly, straightening himself and rubbing at his neatly-kept facial hair. This whole thing was putting more white in his beard than a man of his age should really have, but then this was one of those jobs that tended to do that. He was without the Queen’s youthful genetics, as the looking-glass was wont to remind him. He took a moment to appear to give the consideration some thought, though in truth he knew what his answer was to be anyway.

“Since you asked, I suppose it will not hurt to say that I believe that on some level, you are correct, Miss Elling. Through our research, we came to the same conclusion. The problem is, the truth behind the matters at hand as yet eludes us, but it is there. Thus far, we have only one clue, and it has lead us to what seems to be a dead end. Lux adventum. A dead phrase in a dead language, last used in the days of Elisia, when it was how she personally chose to end correspondence. Unlike the mason’s mark, though, there seem to be no notable contemporary applications. Frankly, even if there are, we have not the time to deal with them before the events push us forward further. It is if anything an investigation for another time.”

He smiled softly, as if to reassure her, and then stood, seeing the woman out with all proper politeness. He knew he was brushing away her concerns too brusquely, but it would not do to inform her just how relevant he found her question. In the end, what he had spoken was still the truth: there were battles to be fought and explosives to be defused before he would be able to satisfy his own curiosity on the matter.



The Royal Palace

Loki endured the words in silence, though the truth was, she had once wondered the same thing. She knew just as well as she knew anything that their chances were horrible, that in the end she’d be surprised if she survived the day, but this was bigger than that, at least to her. It was bigger than duty, and certainly more important than her happiness. That was not to say, though, that she couldn’t understand.

Not that she was pleased. No, she was far from that. At first, she’d assumed it was another poor joke, indicative of his taste in such things, really. Then, she’d though to make an honest attempt at killing him right there, not because she was upset (though she was) but rather because no matter what he said, there was always the possibility that he knew too much. In the end, though, she neither said nor did anything. His reason could be countermanded; she could have cruelly pointed out that if those explosives were designed to do what she thought they were designed to do, he was going to die anyway, probably, but the sharp words dulled under the scrutiny of consideration, and so instead she simply stared at him in that disconcerting way she had and said absolutely nothing.

Heroism was not her goal. Her goal was to save the lives of the people this was going to kill if she did not act. She was not willing to accept the consequences of inaction- to do what so many politicians do and be there at the forefront of the mourning with none the wiser to their silent complicity in the preceding tragedy. She could act, she could do something, and therefore, she must. Not everyone shared that necessity nor that power; one could go so far as to say that the effort probably would not fail or succeed just because of Eos’s choice.

Were she who she had been a year ago, that would have been the long and short of it. She was learning, though, that with increased consideration came increased vulnerability, and she could not deny that those words and the simple act of walking away had hurt somehow, and this was the reason for the flare of anger that remained even as she watched her dessert melt away into nothingness. What does one do with one less limb? One adjusts, and continues to walk. There is no other choice.

Slumping in her chair, she absently wove her spoon around in the bowl, assisting the liquefaction process. She found herself distinctly without appetite, now that she got around to it. This was going to require adjustment… if Victoria and Zade and Garbiel plus Amon’s people handled the defusion, she could put Danterus in with the other armed group, and send Pandora along to heal. That was a disgustingly-flawed plan, and even she knew it to be so. Danterus was decent, from Amon’s assessment, but by no means a professional, and Pandora… wasn’t even that, if she were being honest.

And none of it stopped necessity. Her eyes flicked to the copper disc on the table, but she made no move to do anything with it as of yet. She was still trying to decide whether or not it might be best off in the fire.