The Silent Runes of Suzail

Vorenus makes his way back to Merienne’s shop, hiding his frustration.  He comes in the door and waits to encounter her, to go to the back room for discussion.  He hopes that Shenua and Iromae trail along behind.  Still as a halfling, he says “No go.  There were watchers set up near the alley.  It felt off - - they were watching, I ducked into a doorway, observed them for a bit, then moved off.  There’s no way to directly approach the cellar where we were before.  The only way would be to access that building from rooftops or from adjacent buildings connected, hoping to find a route of entry.  Unless we worked together and created a major diversion, which I think would be very risky… I can try to cast this again, and I think it really helped, but I could not walk towards that door, I remembered your words and exited stage left.”  Vorenus gives a heavy sigh, waiting to hear what Merienne says and proposes.  He turns and looks as Shenua, then eventually Iromae arrive, relaying the information again.  

Shenua takes the first sip of the cappuccino and has to make an effort to swallow it.

"What in the Nine Hells is this!?"

It is not exactly bad, but if her tongue had been expecting chocolate sprinkled over the coffee, this bitter spice certainly was not it.

The pastry, at least, fares better. She has definitely tasted finer ones before, but after a couple of bites she realizes she is actually enjoying the moment. She does not even need to pretend she is unwinding. For a few precious minutes, she simply is.

That lasts about ten minutes. As more time passes without any sign of the halfling, her foot begins tapping restlessly against the floor beneath the table.

And then she sees him. No package. No signal of success. Only the agreed indication. No go.

Shenua keeps her expression perfectly neutral, though her stomach tightens.

"Oh, gods. The safehouse really is compromised."

The curly-haired human woman continues sipping the strange cappuccino and nibbling at the flaky pastry as though nothing at all has happened.

About fifteen minutes later, she rises calmly from her chair, pays the bill with a polite smile toward the waiter, and leaves without hurry.

Later, back at Merienne's shop:

"What happened?" she asks the moment she arrives.

She listens carefully as Vorenus explains what he saw, then exhales sharply and nods.

"You did the right thing," she says. "Damn... I honestly did't think we'd actually find trouble there."

The realization settles heavily over her.

"So this means we should forget about our things for now? At least until after the ball?"

Iromae steps into the Temple of Deneir amongst the others coming and going. Immediately she feels a sense of peace that had eluded her when walking the streets of this alternate Suzail they'd found themselves in. 

There's a familiarity of smells. And an appreciation of the ink-stained fingertips and reverence for manuscripts. It all just fits her and comforts her. 

Normally she might prefer to worship in a more shared way. But knowing her time is short, she moves to pray in solitude. 'Why did Vorenus have to just take off like that? Did I not just ask to go first to have more time?' It weighs on her, but she does know that's just how Vorenus acts.  

She kneels down to reflect in silence, and beseech Deneir for guidance and blessing.  Here in this space, it's easy for her to set aside these thoughts.  To set aside her worries, to settle herself, and to focus on the tasks ahead. 

She does not lose track of time however. She gives herself no more than 15 minutes before she pulls herself to her feet. Pausing to thank Deneir for this time, she then makes her way out, walking slowly towards the district of the safe house. 

The Temple of Deneir receives Iromae’s prayers without interruption. No hidden scrutiny reveals itself. No uneasy feeling crawls up her spine. For a little while, the noise of conspiracies, mirrorcraft, masked men, and stolen documents fades beneath the quiet certainty of ritual and reflection.

The temple is not crowded this late in the evening, but neither is it empty. A pair of young acolytes carefully repair damaged bindings near one wall. An elderly man copies text beneath a softly glowing lamp, pausing every few lines to flex aching fingers. Somewhere deeper within the temple, a choir rehearses in low voices — not singing, but reciting illuminated passages in measured cadence.

Words preserved. Knowledge remembered. Continuity against chaos.

When Iromae finally rises, the knot inside her chest feels loosened, if not entirely gone.

The streets outside seem louder afterward. But manageable. She makes her way toward the safehouse district carefully, neither hurrying nor lingering, keeping aware of those around her as dusk deepens fully into evening. And before she ever reaches the agreed area, she spots him: A halfling courier. Leaving. Wrong direction. No package. No success.

Vorenus does not look at her directly, but the subtle signal is unmistakable. Abort.

The realization lands heavily. The safehouse is burned. Or close enough to burned that it no longer matters.

Iromae adjusts course immediately rather than continuing toward the district, blending instead into the broader evening foot traffic until she can safely redirect herself back toward Merienne’s shop by a different route.

By the time all three reconvene in the hidden tailor shop once more, the atmosphere has changed again. Not panic, but compression. Options narrowing.

Merienne listens in silence as Vorenus explains what he saw. She does not interrupt him once. Not even when he describes the possible rooftop entry or adjacent access points. Only when he finishes does she finally exhale slowly and lean back against the cutting table behind her.

“That confirms it, then,” she says quietly. “The safehouse is compromised.” Her eyes shift briefly toward Shenua. “And no — for tonight, you forget the rest of the items.”

There is no softness in the statement. Only practicality.

“If the street is under observation, then the purpose is no longer the safehouse itself. It is to see who returns to it.” Her gaze settles briefly on Vorenus again. “You did exactly the correct thing by leaving.”

She straightens, folding her arms loosely.

“If you had approached the entrance, one of two things would have happened. Either they would have allowed you inside and followed afterward ... or they would have stopped you before you reached it. Neither outcome benefits you.” Her expression tightens slightly. “The fact they did neither tells me something worse.” Her eyes glance at each of you. “They are waiting.”

The room grows quieter at that. Not hunted blindly. Expected.

Merienne’s eyes drift toward the shuttered front of the shop as though measuring invisible distances through the walls of Suzail itself. “Which means whatever attention the courier incident created ... it reached someone capable of mobilizing quickly.”

After a moment, she looks back to the three of you again with surprising steadiness. “But the ball changes the equation.” Her tone firms again, becoming practical once more. “Tomorrow night, half the city’s attention will be concentrated inside the Feathered Silence. Nobles. Functionaries. Spies. Courtiers. Ambitious merchants. Political gravity shifts there.” She gestures lightly. “A crowded ballroom is safer than an isolated safehouse once people begin looking for patterns.”

Then, finally, the faintest trace of dry humor touches her expression. “So congratulations. You are now exactly the sort of people who belong at a royal ball.”

She turns and leads you to a small, unassuming door at the back of the shop. Opening it reveals a narrow stairwell. She climbs without another word, expecting you to follow, and you do.

At the top sits a cramped room tucked beneath the sloping roof of the building. A bed just wide enough for two presses against one wall beside a wardrobe overflowing with fabrics and half-finished garments you assume belong to Merienne. The remaining floor space is scarce enough that the four of you must shift carefully around one another simply to fit inside.

Merienne pauses before returning downstairs. "Try to get some rest," she says quietly. "You have an important day ahead."

Vorenus sits down on the ground, now changed back into his normal human shape.  He holds his head in his hands for a moment.  “Dang it.  There was nothing I could do.  If I tried harder, say if I turned myself [Tooltip Not Found] maybe… but no.  They were watching so carefully.  If I opened a door on that street, they would have seen it.  Heard me.  I would be captured now, or I would have compromised this house.  All of you.  I did the only thing I could I think… turn tail and run.  Not a good feeling.”  He pauses, looking up at Iromae and Shenua.  “Well, nothing to be done about it now.  How about we get some sleep?  If you hand me some of that fabric down here, I’ll just sleep on the ground, make it cushy enough to cushion my head.  I’m exhausted.”  He lies down on the floor, starting to bunch up any blanket, fabric for a makeshift pillow, lying down to rest at last.  

When Iromae makes it back, she still seems to be in a fairly decent mood. Or at least she still feels relaxed. "It's fine Vorenus. You did the right thing. The place was being watched and you just made the safe move. You did perfect." There's actually the slightest of smiles on her face as she speaks. If any of the group might have pushed things and tried something risky it would be Vorenus. She was pleased he thought it through and came back safely. Even if it meant not having their items. 

"Yea, we should probably just get some rest," she agrees. She looks at Merienne. "Is there anything else to discuss tonight? Should I be making up details for my cover? I'm a scholar, but do I need a new name? And what do I study? It feels like focusing on the arcane or on history might be areas that invite scrutiny."  

"Yay..." Shenua says in response to Merienne's remark about them now being exactly the sort of people who belong at a royal ball.

Then she exhales softly.

"...we'll get our things back eventually. I don't know how yet, but let's stay optimistic. So far, things have mostly gone our way. This is just a temporary setback."

As Merienne leads them upstairs and Vorenus and Iromae step into the cramped room, Shenua lingers behind for a moment. Once the others are distracted, she lowers her voice so only the seamstress can hear.

"So... you wouldn't happen to have somewhere else I could sleep tonight, would you?" she asks quietly. "So they can have, you know, a little space to themselves." The tiefling gives an awkward little smile. "Anything is fine for me: another tiny room, a couch, even a spot behind your counter. Please."

If Merienne agrees:

If Merienne refuses:

Shenua frowns slightly at Merienne's wording. "When you say that tomorrow night, half the city’s attention will be concentrated inside the Feathered Silence, is it because the ball is there? I thought we were only entering through the shop before going somewhere else."

Merienne gives a small shake of her head. “No. The masquerade itself is being held on the palace grounds,” she clarifies. “The Feathered Silence simply sits close enough to court that much of the city’s nobility filters through it before and after such events. Connections are made there. Invitations are confirmed there. Escorts gather there.” A faint smile touches her lips. “And for those without direct standing at court ... it is often easier to enter society through another door first.”

She pauses, watching the three of you attempt to find comfort in the cramped room. “Tomorrow night, the palace will hold the center of attention. The Feathered Silence merely sits close enough to the center to feel the pull.”

Iromae looks toward her. “Is there anything else to discuss tonight? Should I be making up details for my cover? I'm a scholar, but do I need a new name? And what do I study? It feels like focusing on the arcane or on history might be areas that invite scrutiny.”

“Rest now,” Merienne replies. “We still have tomorrow to iron out the finer details.”

She turns to descend the stairs, but feels a light tug at her sleeve. Looking back, she finds Shenua lingering in the doorway.

The tiefling lowers her voice. “So ... you wouldn't happen to have somewhere else I could sleep tonight, would you?" she asks quietly. "So they can have, you know, a little space to themselves." The tiefling gives an awkward little smile. "Anything is fine for me: another tiny room, a couch, even a spot behind your counter. Please.”

Merienne studies her silently for a moment before letting out a quiet breath. “Follow me.”

Shenua’s expression brightens immediately. “Thank you,” she whispers sincerely.

Then she turns back toward Vorenus and Iromae with a grin. “That bed barely fits two people as it is, and nobody should be sleeping on the floor tonight. We need to look alive for tomorrow.”

Before either can object, she waves and quickly slips back downstairs after the seamstress.

Merienne closes the door behind them and pauses. “It is kind of you to give them privacy,” she says, “but I’m afraid that bed upstairs is the only truly comfortable place in the shop. The best I can offer down here is a pallet of folded materials.” She touches her chin. "Or there is the settee, but I'm not sure that will be better."

"Plus," she says, now walking back toward the front of the shop, "I will be working down here for three very important clients who need costumes in less than 24 hours."

She walks a little ways further, then turns to face Shenua once again. "Let's find you somewhere halfway comfortable down here, and in a couple of hours, I'll wake you and encourage you back upstairs where you can finish the night in the quiet darkness."

Vorenus looks up surprised as Shenua steps out.  He takes off his cloak and his common clothes are beneath.  Standing there, before Iromae, he feels totally disarmed.  He sits on the bed for a minute, then looks up at her with a smile.  “She… she wants to give us some privacy.”  He scratches his head and pulls his hands through his rumpled hair, standing up and walking close to Iromae.  “Look, I’m sorry about… letting you guys down back there.  Sometimes in the heat of the moment, I make sudden changes to plans.  Or foul things up.  But know this, I would do anything to protect you.  To keep both of you safe.  Even if it required my life to do so.”  He takes her by the hand.  “You.  You’ve always held the keys to my heart, from the first time I got to know you at the academy.  Remember?  Remember those days?  I used to walk on air after we talked, I even thought that I would literally walk on air after talking to you.  I told Diego, he’s the only one I shared it with.  But you busted me so many times staring at you in enchantment class.  The real enchanting that was going on was your effect on me.  So, here we are.  I feel that our lives are on the line with what happens tomorrow night.  We both need rest, we need sleep.  But I can’t hold it in any longer.  It must come out, before I take my last breath, in case that happens - - Iromae, I love you.  From your head to your toes, I just love you.  If we ever make it out of this world alive and set things aright, I want to be with you, never apart. I wanted you to know that.  I don’t know where we would go or what we would do, but I want it to be with you.”  Vorenus looks like a huge weight has just come off his shoulders, something he has been holding deep inside.  A goofy grin is on his face, and he can’t take his eyes off her.  Eventually, he says “I’ll make a little spot here on the floor, you have the bed, I want you to be comfortable, you need your sleep.”  And he starts moving around to do so, pushing things aside and straightening up.

(OOC - Cross posted! I've edited a bit.) 

Iromae is left a bit confused as well when Shenua goes off with Merienne and leaves her alone with Vorenus. She then looks at him with a bit of a blush. "Ah. Hmm, well..."  She hesitates, not having expected this.  With all that had happened she hadn't had much time to think about it. And hadn't been expecting to even have to think about it for a bit. 

She listens to Vorenus when he speaks first. His words make her blush an even deeper shade of red, though they also settle her anxiety over this moment.  She shakes her head at his recollections, muttering, "I'm sure you are exaggerating my effect on you." But she still keeps listening, and smiling. 

With a sigh, she finally speaks. "I've never doubted your sincerity. I know you would give your all for me. And for Shenua too.  And I know you act on impulse."  She pauses, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "I love you too, Vorenus. I have long loved you. At least the man that I've seen beneath the fake pompous bravado that you always showed everyone. I do love you." She steps closer, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.  

"I won't hear of you staying on the floor. Poor Shenua was kind enough to give us this opportunity, you should at least rest well and stay on the bed with me."  She hesitates again, then adds, "It will be nice to have you close." 

Another pause. "And we need to sleep," she says firmly, though with a slight smile. 

"A couple of hours? Oh, I had hoped to give them a little more time. But... that's fine," Shenua says with a smile. "Thank you very much for your help, Merienne."

With little left to say or do, Shenua settles herself wherever the seamstress has prepared for her and quickly falls asleep. Contrary to what she thought would happen, the sounds of Merienne working do not keep her awake; if anything, they soothe her. The steady rustle of fabric and quiet rhythm of the woman's work soon lull the tiefling into a well-earned sleep.