RP:Transparency

Part of the Welcome To The End Of Eras Arc

Summary: Kasyr and Inks discuss the past, present, and the future.

Vailkrin Castle

Kasyr || For the second time since his dissapearance, the Kensais found himself back in the castle- and he can't be certain if what he most feels is relief, Trepidation, or some weird sense of dissapointment. The relief is perhaps the easiest one to trace- because the moment he strides into his room, the self-conscious possibility that he might be within someones purview slides away, and the more familiar feeling of being home. A home which felt a little less empty than it used to.

Kasyr || And yet, that same lack of emptiness was also where the trepidation came in, because some small part of him expects that she knows- that she might have felt the moment where the world didn't simply fray- but tore open, a gaping wound which still shuddered in front of the castle, a bleak remnant- which had briefly shorn him so far, that he couldn't feel the bond they shared. A bond he'd willing endangered for a moment, just to push back against Shishi.

Kasyr || But there are no notes left for him- nor did he leave any. And it's perhaps in that moment that the dissapointment twists into an acute sense of shame. Transparency had been her request, and he'd promised later twice- even as he retired during his evenings, to glance at a book that promised worse still. "Goddamnit." With a start, he turns on his heels, and goes to follow that tug, and find out what the seamstress has been busying herself since.

Iintahquohae || She was taking her sire's word on this – that bedrooms in the castle were safe from scrying eyes. The bedroom just down the hall from his has been repurposed into a study of sorts. A 'financial war room', Inks joked to a lone, relatively silent servant that assisted her in setting it up. It’s clear that the seamstress hasn’t slept a wink in Kasyr's absence, and in truth she wasn’t aware that he was gone. Nor did she pay much attention to the ruckus in the castle's front yard. She’s focused. She sits at a desk dragged into the room, surrounded by leather-bound ledgers that she’s pored over to the point of going cross-eyed. The walls have maps of Vailkrin’s districts tacked to them, with shops marked out in red ink. Piles of list in some organized chaos sit on the floor near the desk. The seamstress finishes off another mug of coffee and simply holds it out with one hand in the servant’s general direction. Inks suspected this woman was one of Lord Derrick’s people, and she found some comfort in that even if she knew everything she was writing was right in the spy’s grasp. As far as she’s concerned, they’re on the same side here even if she hardly says a thing.

At some point the servant exited and returned with yet another pile of papers, but to Inks’ relief they were newspapers across Lithrydel and nothing more. She needed a break from drafting letters and crunching numbers, so she hoped to find some solace in reading about the happenings in her home town, Cenril.

Inks is positively fuming after reading the headlines.

Poor Val. She can’t imagine what the mayor must have endured, and it’s difficult for Inks to not drop everything to head for the port city to check on her friend. But she has to keep her head low and focus on the mountain of tasks at hand, which only grew with the news that Cenril was closing its gates. This throws a wrench into her plans for House Ventra and Torrador. Her eyes linger on the maps she’s put on a nearby wall, and feels some relief that her letters promising profit and increased trade beyond Vailkrin weren’t sent just yet. She could spin this back into their favor. Her quill starts scribbling away for another round of messages to be delivered. Not necessarily promises, but an invitation to improve conditions they’ll all be under soon due to the actions of certain interlopers. …along with a request to help publically denounce them as well, though with these sanctions in place, that request may not even be necessary. Her eyes linger on those maps again and she glowers. You don’t interfere with Vailkrin’s coffers like this. She decides to pen down a promise after all. Funding.

Talking to the quiet servant just might be beneficial after all, because after a few words it’s revealed to Inks that not only is this one of Asharam’s people, but she could put a bug in someone’s ear that publishes papers. Kasyr may hear the seamstress’s ideas for a headline then if he heads her way. Her senses give her the awareness that he’s nearby again, but little else. She’s too fixated on this idea.

"I'm thinking…’House Azakhaer is spearheading a funding project to Vailkrinese businesses that have suffered losses in these uncertain times,” she pauses with a grimace. Too wordy for a headline, but an actual journalist can make it short and sweet later. She empties her coffee mug. “…to shield them from – no, us. Us is more personal. Shield us from bad actors’?” No strong response from the spy has her questioning herself, so Inks murmurs, “Maybe my name only instead of House Azakhaer. Saves Kasyr from having another target on his back…”

Kasyr may have lingered at the door to the room for a few moments longer, amber eyes picking over the details she'd diligently arranged during his absence, bemused over the overall meticulous nature. A nature which stands in stark contrast to his own room, and the terrible array of notes scattered across boards in a manner unfit for even a conspiracy theorists den.

It's only when she begins to rattle off potential titles that the Kensai finds himself chiming in, "To shield us from threats Local et Abroad?" He pulls away from the doorframe, his hands sliding into his pockets as he makes his first few steps into the room, "You're right, a bit wordy. I like the message, though." The servant pauses for a moment to glance between the two, and shifts- but the Kensai simply lifts his hands up and shuffles a bit closer to sit down near one of the boards, "You're fine. You might be more helpful for troubleshooting titles."

While this earns him a briefly befuddled look, it soon segues into a shrug, the servant returning to her apparent duty as headline critic. Kasyr, for his part, props his elbows up on his lap, and proceeds to stare at the pile of paperwork, "So, intending on being a full time columnist, or part time?" There's a pause there, before he casually adds, "How -has- progress been with.. well, everything? I had my hands full, so I hadn't really had the chance to stop by til now." That was the least transparent response ever. Care to try again? "Et what's still to do on the itinerary." If it were possible for someone to have a long distance relationship with the truth, this was proof of concept.

Iintahquohae || “Très bien, très bien,” the seamstress steals some more of Kasy'rs words, grinning at the revenant in the doorway. He's wittier than she could ever possibly be, but the fact that he likes the message is enough for Inks. They can make it better later. While Kasyr insists that Maude the maid stick around, she gives a lazy introduction. “That's Maude,” her hand waves lazily toward Kas as if he didn't need an introduction. Journalism isn't her thing, but her shoulders rise and fall all the same as the revenant gets comfortable. “Sometimes it's good to try something new,” and though there was humor in her tone for that moment, it shifts just a little at his inquiry about progress. “Well, it was fine until...” The newspaper from Cenril is within reach, and she lifts it up for Kasyr. “...She tried to kill Val? Is she out of her mind? Have you seen her, is she okay?” The questions are thrown rapid fire at him, without a breath between. She continues, but instead of her expression changing to something negative, instead she's grinning. Absolutely bright-eyed and bushy tailed. But if Kasyr even mentions the enthused sway of her tail, she'll shoot him a look. “And all of these – these sanctions. If I sent out anything to Ventra and Torrador, they would have drowned me in dragon's blood. But.”

As if she's revealing a fine piece of jewelry she toiled away at for ages, she grabs one of those ledgers she's been working in off of the desk and hands it over to Kasyr. “Every business in Vailkrin, cataloged by House affiliation. A general idea of what they bring in, what they ship or could potentially ship out,” she glances at Maude, since that was entirely her doing. Thank the gods, “Estimations of income... If we can't open up trade for Vailkrin now like I had in mind, we create a safety net for them. Some of these smaller ones,” if Kasyr is turning pages in the ledger she motions for him to flip to the back pages, “They'll crumble without some help. I can't have that,” spoken with some authoritative tone that Inks wants to walk back. “-Vailkrin- can't have that. This is going to kill our economy if we don't support them.”

Kasyr lifts his hand up in a lazy wave to Maude, before his elbow finds it's way back to his lap. "Un plasir, Maude." Though whether he'll remember that name is something else entirely. At this point, he's just staring in one of those acutely cattish ways he sometimes does- his attention following the movements made. That said, there might have been a slight tsk on his part, the news headline reminding him once again of his failure, "It's hard to miss, yes. I have not seen her, yes, but I invited her to the castle. She wanted to talk business, might be able to help with the book- et I figured you might appreciate- " Inks was being very informal, and the Kensais busy brain stops, "You would already know. Right. Well, introductions unnecessary then." There's a sort of awkward roll of his eyes, though he's quick to rein it back in as she begins to get into a giddy overview of the current economic straits facing vailkrin.

And in a morbid sort of way, he think he understood it on a certain facet, especially as he found himself slowly sifting through a ledger. That said, given the source of the information, he's not entirely surprised to see that even his own dealings crop up within the book. That wasn't the important part she wanted to show him, however. It was the opportunity here, which she now voiced- which had her meticulously trying her hand at writing. "So. I've been a bit busy." An understatement, but that was fine. The maid was given a very slight side-eye before he continues, "Given the political climate, I tried to get an idea of what our neighbours will do, et it's looking to get -worse- not better. So, I worked out a trade arrangement, with Rynvale. He's willing to help us get necessities to Vailkrin, as well as export our goods. The exacts we can properly hang out later- but. . . I figure I can leave the contractual bits to you et the Ventra's, non?"

Iintahquohae || “You did?” Though concern is still evident on the seamstress's face, she does manage a smile at the news. Just as long as Val gets here safely, and returns home just as safely. Humans are squishy. Back to that palpable giddiness. “I -think- if we get this rolling soon, they should be able to weather most of this,” she gestures at the paper from Cenril. "...And any others we might have to deal with.” Inks grimaces at the prospect of that. They're already isolated to their little pocket of Lithrydel. This could cut things in a way she can't quite predict, but it could be bad. But if they put this into action soon... “I can start today. Now, even, if I have to, before any sort of public announcement is made. It'll show an eagerness to support the people,” this is likely where she'd name drop their house upon delivery of funding instead of using strictly Kasyr's name or strictly her own name, and cross her fingers that the move creates the positive ripples she wants to see.

But now she waits expectantly on Kasyr, eager for some sort of....approval? Blessing? Praise? She isn't entirely sure here, but having her sire sign off on it before taking the leap seems appropriate in this setting. Even if her desire to just get it rolling immediately is strong. Her brow raises at his declaration of being busy, and has half a mind to make a very blatant sweep of her eyes around the room. She resists, however, given his tone sounds more tired of the work while she's absolutely buzzing about hers. The tedium and planning is just so thrilling, even if the situation is utterly dire. She's certain that can fix this before it gets too bad, and as he explains his whereabouts, her desire to just get going grows stronger. “We can weather this, but we gotta move quickly.” As if Kasyr didn't know this already. Politics was his game, not hers. Vulpine ears perk at the mere mention of goods being moved with Rynvale's help. “I'd offer my ships too, but...” Well. It'd take a -lot- of doing to rip a seam open large enough and long enough to just have Vailkrinese businesses haul their cargo over to each one of her vessels, but it's an option. A drastic, incredibly dangerous option. A last resort, in truth. “I'll find a way. With Ventra too. I think...” And she's back to leaning over the revenant's shoulder again to peek at her ledger if he's still perusing. Otherwise she plucks it from his grasp to search its pages for some of Ventra's businesses that Maude the Maid advised her are of utmost importance to keep afloat if possible. “We'll need to prioritize a few of her people to move goods. And take care of Ikara and Maya. That should be a beneficial enough arrangement to get their favor.”

Kasyr may have offered the seamstress a cheeky smile in regards to the witches Visit, "She would tolerate no delay in seeing us." Humans -were- squishy, but the witch had hung on this long, and he was no longer occupied. ...Maybe he could ask Khitti to keep an eye out, all the same, given she was attending to guild business, by the looks of it. "As soon as possible works best. Actions speak louder than words, ultimately- and it'll make the the whole thing feel more organic, and like the paper is announcing on events, rather then already knowing what's to come." There's an attentiveness there that is a bit difficult for him to place, an enthusiasm that seems in contrast to his more stalwart attempts at whittling through their mutual to-do list.

"I'd had a thought on that front, actually. We have Mahara's outright support. And I believe they have connections with the funeral home business. No shortage of bodies to find or produce, et that could allow us to smuggle especially valuable items without them getting detained, noticed, or taxed. Careful packaging es a thing, but. . ." Any measure they can take. "It's a thought, au moin- for items whose origins might be undeniable, or happen to be banned." Leo is just going to be -thrilled- to receive crates of common goods, and -Coffins-. Just enthused. "I can talk to Bradyn about that- et maybe see about discussing things with Markan, too. There were some items that might be relevant to both of them." Which was a hideous gamble, but at this juncture- they had favours to earn. When Inks snags the book back from him, the swordsman simply offers a shrug, briefly contemplating allowing her to return to her busy tangents. Only. Only she hadn't asked. And it's on that front that the kensai's attention slides over towards Maude, "...I'm guessing you didn't tell her that her services were now needed near the front of the castle, or the reason behind it?" Transparency, and all. In for a Penny~ In for a verbal pounding because you're a reckless bastard.

Iintaquohae || “Really?” Well aren't they special. Or, well. Kasyr's special. Iintahquohae is just happy to help and eager to check on someone she considers a friend. ...And devote the majority of her attention toward this mountain of ledgers and paperwork she's created for herself. “Then we'll need to start dispersing money to the prioritized businesses first. And find someone...” She almost suggests that dragon builder she's seen ads about frequently, but shakes her head at the thought. Gotta think local for this too. “Know any good, construction businesses nearby that can take care of Ikara and Maya? I'll foot the bill.”

“We do?” Color Inks impressed. That's one house they can tick off of the list. “I've met one Maharan...Didn't talk much. I thought I pissed him off.” Bradyn. What a lackluster introduction on her part, enough to elicit a frown for half a second. Kasyr's talking about something gruesome that involves discreet stitching, and that smile is quick to return. And smuggling? Thank Cyela, though the seamstress's thoughts quickly bounce to Olric as well. If she gets caught breaking the law, she gets caught and dealt with, but perhaps a little bit of Olric's favor with her blatant honesty is on her side. Or just luck. She believed luck was always on her side. “Count me in.” But she's back to flipping through the book's pages again, stealing a quill from the desk to start marking off who she's going to get money to first. Maude just gawks at the kensai at his words, and that silence causes the seamstress to glance up the page she's making notes in with raised brows. “What happened? I heard noise...” Noise and likely a lot of rattling, when? Hours ago? A day maybe? “What did you do, Kas?” She has half a mind to look upset, or concerned but since he doesn't (did he ever, honestly?), she figures it must be something minor. Boy is she wrong. If there's a problem at the front of the castle, they might as well look into it now. After closing the ledger and setting it back on the desk, she heads for the door. “Technically this isn't my home, but please tell me you didn't do anything too stupid like piss off the chitterling.” She never wanted to see that thing again.

Kasyr can't help the grimace that creeps over his face when Inks asks her question about construction companies. Not so much because it was a bad one- but because Maude the Maid perks up a tiny bit. Not on the outside, no- she remains as impassive as before, perhaps even a touch more now. A picture perfect wallflower- since for the slivers of focused attention which alternate between the swordsman and the ledger. At this point, they more or less knew, and were just looking for confirmation, "Inks. We -own- the local construction companies." Companies which have historically gotten some fairly nice repair contracts from the government, and have certain subsidies built in, including when it came to the acquisition of materials. Companies which were apparently being investigated by Asharam because those same subsidies remained intact due to legislation first put into place by Ginger Con Snap Dragon, and then furthe engrained in legalese over the course of the years, "Which es why the clean up es so quick et smooth after our skirmishes." That, comment isn't fully meant for the seamstress, Maude having earned a sour look when he'd felt something akin to satisfaction. A non verbal 'I knew it'.

In comparison, the other details aren't really all that bad- her mention of having dealt with the Maharans before eliciting a slight smirk, alongside a shrug. "Speak too loud in the library?" At the very least, she didn't have any qualms with his extra-illegal plan- if anything there was a bit of zeal for the whole thing that probably should have set off some sort of red flag, if he hadn't proven a historical inability to notice those. Kasyr just translates it to her being good company.

That said, he's less enthused when this somehow winds up being his fault. The Maid earns herself a small scowl and a, "Really?" even as some logical part of his mind chimes in to rebuke him. What did he want here, really? She'd made good progress- had advanced their cause with an efficiency that was hard to fathom. How much of what was the come would likely be better off at a need to know basis? "...I didn't do anything, if I'm going to be honest." That probably earns him the look, and a start of a rebuttal, so he chimes in with. "I defended myself. Shishi paid my a visit, no doubt courtesy of Quintessa- asking me to kindly allow her to continue culting and advancing the bug things agenda, and to go waste my time chasing down absent leads that the scholars could be doing." There's something difficult to pin down in his voice, a thickness in his throat that sometimes bordered close to disgust, other times to resentment, and a few times, even regret, "It's also been made abundantly clear that she's been telling anyone who'll listen that I tried to kill her. Which-" He should have. Valrae was proof enough. All of this was proof enough. Even now, she was no doubt working to try and garner sympathy, so she could further spread his word. Why else would she flaunt herself in the spotlight, or host a tournament so publically. "Led to a heated exchange of words. We fought- there's a gaping hole in reality in the front of the castle, and another somewhere in the woods, where I had to claw my way back into...existing, I guess." Okay, Maude's at least not looking smug now, because the details of his particular dissapearance had been lost on them.

Iintahquohae || “Wait, we do?” She shoots a glare at Maude, who looks as if she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Is she pitting them against each other or just having fun? “...Thought you were just saying that as a joke...” Well, Inks likely looks ridiculous for that blunder between her sire and the Asharam spy. “We own all of them, then. ...Is this known to anybody else? Because I don't think we should be dipping our hands into what I have in mind for the other businesses.” Hovering by the doorway, the seamstress is half-tempted to sit back down and bury herself in more paperwork to figure out how to navigate this. “So....Two pronged approach? Our...construction crews,” she pulls an amused face. Never once in her life did she ever think she'd utter those words. “We start fixing up messes, and give everyone in that ledger money. Except for ours. We can't double dip.” They absolutely could and something tells her that Kasyr likely has some clever means to spin things into that sort of behavior that she'd admire, but not today. The thought of speaking too loud has causes a silent chuckle. “I think I blinked the wrong way at the books there...” She shrugs. “I might have to drop by again anyway to find something to give me a crash course on how to stop people from spying on me.” Her head may not tilt skyward, but her eyes do, betraying the seamstress's concern about being watched.

While Kasyr explains that Shishi and him got in a tussle, she leans against the doorframe and lets her expression just give up everything she's thinking or feeling then. Confusion, amusement, a little more confusion, disgust when her mind leaps to some weird conclusion about the changeling and the Titan's relationship since she draws some parallels to Kasyr. “Someone likes their men mighty,” she murmurs, raising both brows in mild amusement. Whatever the revenant's odd tone of voice conveys, Inks glances at him with a frown. This is a far more complicated situation for him than it is for her and she's grateful to not be tangled in that mess of webs. The moves that she's making might have her treading just a little bit into that mess, come to think of it. She'll take steps to lay low. “A gaping hole in reality?” The thought has her looking skyward again as a memory surfaces. Did she have needle and thread on her, even? Inks pats at her pants pockets, grateful she took the risk to sneak home to Cenril and back for her own clothes. “I don't have that thread anymore but I bet I can patch it.” She had her magic back, and with it came more confidence with anomalies like this than she previously possessed. Figuring they can trust their spy to not cause any trouble and that Kasyr will follow, the seamstress heads for the front of the castle to assess the damage. On the way, she calls over her shoulder. “So if she,” meaning Tessa, “Is a problem, what about her girl? Mom said there was a package for me when I dropped by and Karasu left me a gift.” Her nose crinkles at the image of the wand, not at all for its construction, but for the drop of blood on it. She didn't need to know what Karasu's blood smelled like and didn't enjoy at all how it caused her her stomach twist. “I didn't bring it but it's a nice lookin' wand.”

Kasyr may have inclined his head slightly towards Maude, and then tilts it a bit further in the direction of the city itself, "I imagine lord Derricks suspected for some time. Beyond that, J'en doute. The one who had helped me...establish that foothold was adept. I'll go over it with you. Later." That's the last freebie that the Asharamite's getting out of him today- and only because it had already been close to known. "Do...you still need your attendant, par chance?" If they're lamenting one potential constant watcher, they may as well gripe about the one whose sharing the room with them.

Storytime, on the other hand, was going pretty well until the seamstress face journey ends with a clever remark that he -really- didn't want to contemplate. Mostly because the curious mixture of emotions in that moment help to really underline the punchline, "I- Them? No. Noo. She's close to his daughters age." Probably? It'd help if he even know kid's age. Or much about her beyond 'Casual cultist'. For that matter, How much did he even know about Shishi. Was it actually beyond the pale for him? Is -that- why he was so touchy about the whole thing, and Quintessa's involvement. "Why did you- Did you really-" No. He wasn't even going to think about it. She was already onto the more important point here. "I'd say...maybe patch the one in the woods. I'm almost wondering if we can- "Was Maude still here, if she is, she's getting a scowl, before he continues, "We can maybe use the one in the castle as a talking point with Markan. Trade them first rights to experimenting for some concessions et a bit of good will. They might appreciate seeing a repeat of your first trick." That said, he's certainly not going to stop her from heading off to inspect the damage- which is a bit more extensive than just ' a hole in reality'. The conflict between himself and Shishi had left Vailkrins grand front hall a scorched mess, patches of the floor corroded or shattered. Though perhaps not quite as jarring as the segments which are neatly absent, along with portions of the stairwell and wall. "...Yeah, this is going to be a repair job." Some small part of his mind idly wonders what the castle staff had felt in the aftermath, if only because of the sheer absurdity of the moment. How long after the noise had stopped did it take for them to first investigate.

Those musings, however, are part to the side when he realizes he'd left one of the seamstresses questions unanswer, "Oh." Karasu. It all just blurred together at this point, didn't it? "Probably a good thing you didn't bring it, at least for now. She es also on the list of 'people who have threatened me because i spared Quintessa instead of discreetly turning her to dust.' Every day since has been a fresh regret, je vous promets." He's trying to smirk, but it doesn't quite work, so he instead sidles off to fuss with a table, tapping at the scorched wood, "Is there anything else you want to know? You'd asked to keep you in the loop." There's a pause, even as he mulls over the remaining details in his mind, before simply adding, "It's been a while since I've actually had someone I can- tu know, about all of this. Without needing to be careful."

Iintahquohae || “I don't think so,” though it's obvious that Inks doesn't realize that Kasyr wants to shoo Maude on her way. She liked the servant-spy and figured this was one of those situations where it didn't matter much what she knew in those ledgers, since it benefit Asharam's house too in a way. The second half of her thought on Maude is a delayed one, but audible likely due the three of them being vampires. “Hold the fort, Maude?”

The thought that the changeling is closer to Orange's age causes a grimace. Then a double-take at Kasyr. “...Aren't you my age? Isn't Shishi our age?” She figured they had the same predicament. Sired young. Young-ish. Twenty-two for her...no idea for Kas or Blue, but if the seamstress squints, her sire looks a bit boyish. “I'm absolutely judging,” added with a laugh since she can't lie, and he might have caught up by now to give her a look and probably a shove. “Could be worse I guess,” she adds after a beat. “Coulda gotten yourself engaged with a paladin and have to call things off maybe a month or so after the announcement.” It's a bitter memory, but she grins all the same. Could've been worse. Could've ended up with a second dead husband. “So what caused these anyway?” She still hasn't seen them yet, but slows her footsteps so Kasyr can take the lead and show off the damage. And boy look at all that damage once they've entered the front all. Parts were just – gone. Missing, and she has to resist the urge to shove hands in those vacant places where they didn't belong to discern the cause. His remark about Markan isn't ignored, but she's caught up momentarily with just the sight of things missing. “How did you two do -this-?” she exclaims, marveling at the mess. “And.Yeah – I..I can teach them that,” she murmurs. “I figure you get how it works, its rules and all.” She didn't understand what a Kensai was but took it to mean 'expert at all things sharp and pointy', so Inks could hardly bat an eye if he grasped it better than she did.

While he fusses with a table, she decides remove a glove to curiously prod at the very edge of one of those strange absences of stuff to get a feel for what might be there, figuring there might be some fraying bit she can pluck a thread from if she pulled hard enough. It doesn't feel quite like the way the sky felt that one time, but it did have that distinct feeling of 'wrongness' or 'this-should-not-be-like-this' that she associated with rips in the intangible. If only... Busying herself with taking out the little felt square she kept in a pocket to keep a few pre-threaded needles in place and handy, she gives Kasyr a disappointed look. “Well that's great. I like that cat. And...” Her shoulder rolls with a half shrug, uncertain while dividing her attention between him and poking a needle into the edge of the tear she was examining. It's being fussy and stubborn about it, with the weft and warp of the intangible space trying to reject her tangible materials to repair it, but it'll hold. Probably after a few stitches. “'Dunno. I figure you'll tell me what you want me to know and what I need to know.”

Kasyr gives Inks a look, "Are you my age?" Had he asked? He didn't even really know his own age, properly- given the whole street urchin thing. He just had a rough guesstimate of late 20 something. It didn't help that it had lost all meaning years ago. "I'm probably not...30, yet. I think?" It's not quite a shove, more of an elbow nudge as he moves past her, and then spins on his heels to retort, "I'm pretty sure Leralynn is his actual kid, so you might want to check your math, madamoiselle accountant." She's offered a salute along with this, as he moves to turn back- only, her admission, all grins with a hint of something less happy, has him linger. "Still got saddled with one. He just sired you, instead."

That said, he didn't push his luck further instead allowing her to take stock of the damages, even as he pretended to be useful with the table. It's a bad game of pretend, given that it's collapsing from fire damage within moments. "I may have, uh- used that portal trick you showed me in the worst way possible. On purpose." He's just very interested in the wall right now, "I'd asked Tessa what would happen if you opened a portal inside a portal during our . . Chat." One hand is gestured towards the room, towards the absolute ruin that had been wrought, "Voila. ...Though there were some..nuances, J'suppose."

His hand drops to his side, and he begins to step along perimeter of the room, eyeing the segments that had been scorched beneath Shishi's eldritch flame. Was there residue to find- something that might better hint at the assassins nature? "Mm. The one in the woods es a bit less elegant. I'd gotten stranded... 'somewhere'. Couldn't even- I didn't know where you were, for a time." That was as much as he was willing to say on that, anyways, Which simply left, "Sorry." Some bitter part of him actually starts to slip through after recent events, "That you have- " bad taste in friends. But he manages to restrain himself. Karasu was as much a victim of manipulation as everyone else in this sordid story. ...Probably. Hopefully. "That it's inconvenient. I'm working on it, je vous promets." And there was so much more to do, and to say. He finally glances back towards the seamstress, at the curious way in which she was actually weaving together some sense of order from the wrongness which hung in the air. Even now, there were some things which managed to surprise him, "Huh. ..Yes, well. If I told everyone what I thought they needed to know, I'd probably say nothing. You'd be amazed at how -badly- team 'Save The World' es doing right now on the communication front. They don't need me killing our morale."

He starts to pat himself down for a smoke, though his coat fails him. He's only able to procure a partially bent wreck from beneath his goggle stra, "You can ask me questions, you know. Like the Trintus thing- et Asharam." He snaps his fingers, coaxing a few sparks to life to light his smoke, "Trintus has been helping Nasar, despite the fact that they're scum. Rumours because they have the Trintus heir. But no ones been able to find them." A beat. "Even Asharam. Et Je m'en doute." He takes his first puff of the smoke, and then extends it to the side, "Asharam es. . . First they wanted me to come back, keep order, be the king. But when word got out that I was human- they'd implied they'd rather I be one of theirs." And then less than implied. Avoiding them, in order to avoid an altercation that would have outright soured their relationship personally had been. Vexing.

Iintahquohae || “You aren't even thirty?!” That's a shock. All these revelations are making their dynamic feel more bizarre, but in a fun way. At lease they're amusing truths instead of anything catastrophic and dire. “...Pretty sure I'm thirty-three. Thirty four. Around there.” The accountant quip has her sticking her tongue out at him, only for his next revelation to have her shooting the kensai yet another double-take. Well isn't he just full of surprises. “You're a -paladin-. Bull. Since when? Who's your uh-” She makes a vague swirling gesture skyward while tugging at a loose thread that she shouldn't be able to touch in some effort to free it to examine for later. It isn't budging, so the seamstress eventually gives up. “My paladin,” she has to laugh just a little at the phrasing, “Was one of Olric's.”

Kasyr's explanation of just what happened has her eyes lighting up. “Ah!” That's why these gaps made some sense but felt entirely wrong too. Holding the threaded needle in her teeth after she frees it from the immaterial again, she grabs at either side of the opening she started to stitch back together and starts tugging either end close, which might look peculiar depending on the revenant's point of view. “Thesh thingsh gotta line up sho the threadsh can go back,” she explains, more to herself but partially for him too, if he's puzzled over what Inks is doing. “When it'sh torn like thish - it -wantsh- to go back-” She spits the needle out into her hand, then tucks the sharp end into her pant leg so she doesn't have to talk with her mouth full anymore. “...It wants to stay in one piece. Us cutting into it is -wrong-, but it corrects our mistakes.”

With how large of a mistake this is however, it needed some help. She frees the needle from her pant leg and starts over to stitch it up. His apology puzzles her, and he gets a brief look before she's refocused on sewing up the first of however many holes there were to patch up. Sorry for what? Being so preoccupied with all that paperwork in the bedroom she took over had her distracted enough to not entirely panic, but Inks had to admit that his absence bothered her. Just a little. “You came back, so I think we're square.” The prospect of just asking presumably any question that plagued the seamstress's mind was an opportunity she didn't plan on passing up on, however. While wrestling with the remaining few stitches to patch up the reality hole as it was starting to stubbornly reject her needle and thread again, Inks poses one question for now. “Back in Frostmaw when you...died...? Where'd you go then?” Okay, two questions. “Why couldn't I track you? I can usually do that.”

Kasyr || "Probablement. There's the whole orphan/urchin thing which doesn't exactement help, but-" It solved itself, eventually. Sort of. In any case, the revealation of her age has him shooting her a cheeky grin, "Ah, so I can occasionally defer to your broader life experience, es what your saying?" This -should- have been accompanied by a casual lean against one of the other lobby tables, but- it starts to crumble at even the -idea- of his hand coming within it's vicinity, leaving him to wobble for a second, and then readjust to lean against the wall. "Though, maybe not. Did it not actually click for you with the whole." He's actually at a loss here, and he's trying his best to keep a straight face, "Your leg, Cherie. As a human. Did that really not-?" Or it slipped her mind. Lord knows the details fall between the cracks. "I'll give you a clue. My prayers tend to involve humming."

Watching her work is a differnt process entirely from seeing her execute the spell in their fight- The lack of his chosen implement for the process denying him an avenue to inuitively understand the process, and thus leaving him to marvel at the absurdity of the situation. Now that he wasn't distracted by a giant heavenborn gaze, the unreality of it all is finally dawning on him, "So, hypothetical then. Say i made a -very- fine cut, and deprived it of anything to sustain itself? Would it just immediately snap shut?" That was the assuption, and boy, did that one have fun applications. "Er, et remember not to get carried away et close the big one. Yet- Unless it starts growing." Or things start leaking out. Or- You know what, he'd just trust her judgement on this.

While there might be a few omissions with his apology, the fact that it's accepted, even in a partial state is a relief. Even better, is the simple fact that the questions she does ask him aren't terribly hard to answer. Which probably says -something- about his relative laissez-faire attitude towards his own deaths, "I'm the last living Champion of the Ascendi. Let's just say I got mildly admonished over my recklessness, but otherwise earned a rest for a bit." The swordsman casually pauses, before tilting his head very slightly to the side- if only because her own inability to sense him had secondary implications. If she couldn't feel Requiem, was it shielded against that? Was it simply a tether to pull him back from Daedria's embrace? The only thing he can think to answer is, "Well, now we know I can't bother you from the afterlife, non?" The cigarette, relatively unattended this whole time, burns down to his knuckles- and it takes him a moment to remember that this is the part where he's supposed to make a slight display of shaking his hand of- before sliding it to a more comfortable position and taking a drag, "Is there anything on the agenda after this? ...Wait, et when's your birthday." The Kensai, on his end, is already prepared to deflect her own question with the honest answer of 'Urchin'.

“Right,” she nods. Her orphan situation came with the bonus of an older brother who remembered things, so nailing down her age wasn't a problem at all. She huffs, amused. “I do have infinite wisdom,” murmured sarcastically. It's baffling still, that Inks is older than her sire. Is that unusual? More questions.. But the first of several holes is patched shut by now. She still lingers near it once was, just to be extra sure, drawing a hand flat against the air as if checking for spaces she might have missed. Finding none, she moves on to continue patching up the abnormalities. Sewing and talking was easy – normal, for her, despite the material she's working with now. Weaving her way across the room with needle and thread to get the remaining holes was partially priority now, but keeping up her conversation with Kasyr was equally important.

It never really dawned on her back then that his ability to heal her leg was something paladin-related. At the time, Inks was far more preoccupied with obeying his instructions to keep that trick a secret, along with just trying to not die. What a wild decision, taking that aimless walk into Vailkrin at the time. It was the catalyst for so much change. Humming? “Daedria?” She blinks. “Huh.” While some might balk at such a revelation, she takes it somewhat in stride. It's difficult to not, given the way their 'family' had an abundance of oddities about it. Her sire casually mentioning that he's Requiem seems par for the course, but there is some part of her that possesses some shock. She's religious, though Daedria wasn't an Ascendi she paid much homage to. “So – What's she like?” How can she not ask? “And have you met the others? Olric?” Her favorite of that particular group of divine beings, oddly. Ignore the bit that Inks smuggled from time to time, or her vampiric nature probably wasn't a good thing in Olric's eyes. Her interest is piqued enough to become a little bit of a distraction, and she almost starts sealing off one of the holes that opened out into the dark forest that Kasyr mentioned to leave be for now. She decided to double check that it is the right hole, and half steps through it. Sure enough, the other side is smack in the woods somewhere, so she crosses back over. “Miiight want to put something in front of this to keep out critters.” And interlopers.

She continues working her way across the room after that, but the kensai's question has her thinking, and before moving on to the next space to stitch back up, her head slowly shakes. “Not slowly... Actually. It depends? If you're cutting on the seams it's safe usually. But if you just tear through-” Well now she's thoroughly distracted, and figures a demonstration might be best here. The needle she's holding goes back to being tucked into her pant leg, and the seamstress returns to the space the original hole had been, but not exactly where the opening was. It's odd to describe, she realizes, referring to the 'fabric' as something that possesses sentience. But it makes the most sense to her. Probably a holdover from her human, druidic days.

“It doesn't mind being cut into on the seams,” she repeats – but with how Kasyr caught onto the trick so quickly, perhaps he figured that bit out already. “But if I do this...” She pauses, then claws her fingers into the air until they sink into well, nothing, disappearing from view momentarily until she forces open a new opening. The edges are fraying and jagged, like real fabric furiously torn apart, and despite all of her strength, Inks struggles to force the space open. Even if it's somewhere familiar. It's somewhere along Cenril's coast, purposely angled skyward to prevent prying eyes or confusion from beach goers. Light from the sun and a sea breeze come through the opening as she braces her hands against either side of the tear, but it's clearly fighting against her, resisting what she's done. The furthest she can force a space open is roughly the width of an open set of double doors, and it's trying to close itself fast. Not instantaneous, however – there is still time for her to show off just how difficult it is, but only of she employs her unnatural speed as well. She steps right in between the opening, bracing her back against what she supposes might be considered a doorframe of sorts, and before the opposite end can close in on her, Inks shoves her leg out to hold that end partially opened too, but it's forcing her leg to bend. “It'll start slowly, like it's warning yo-” Inks winces, and feels that uncomfortable sensation that the gap was about to slam shut on her. It's familiar enough through her experimenting that she leaps out of the space before it abruptly and silently reseals itself, thankfully stepping back onto the castle's side and not Cenril's side. Hands planted on her upper thighs, Inks doubles over and tries to collect herself from what just occurred. “I don't know what happens if you're in the middle of that when it shuts, but I figure you're in trouble for it.”

"Birthday? Uh...Beginning of Autumn, a little over a month from now. What about yours?” What an odd question after all that, but she glances up, and belatedly adds with a grin. “I already have one haunting me. I think I could handle you as a ghost too if that happened.” It better not happen.

Kasyr || Response to the the question about ascendi has him -counting-, and murmuring to himself, "Kanos- I liked him. Coreliant- was, er, J'en sais quoi- ... complicated. Vraiment. Vakarash, on the other hand, es a problem in need of solving..." he hums to himself there, trying not to think too hard on that particular train of thought. "Daedria was my favourite of the ones I'd met, or worked for. There's a reason I entered a pact with her." There were a fair few, in fact, and he'd had time to think long and hard on how all those various decisions had conspired to bring him to where he was. The frowns suppressed as quickly as it came, as the swordsman takes a long drag of his smoke and then flicks it off into a spatial rift. "There's one -In- the forest too. You might have to look -up-, though. So, ...If you absolutely need to, I mean." Her concern certainly had merits, even if it slightly hindered convenience. Though, finding something to cover it that might not slip through the portal into the forest was- "Actually, yes, I'll defer to that infinite wisdom here, Stitch." He offers an overly pronounced bow, before drawing himself back up.

As much as the snark was fun, she was being educational, and he'd hate to distract her so much that they make an even bigger mess of things. Daedria knew that the situation was tangled enough as it was without- "Tearing vs cutting es the trick. Alright." Anything and everything he can learn on this can help, especially given there were worse things to deal with then their fan in the forest, "Maybe we can give some of this a shot later. Learn by doing, if you can find the time for a spar ou something of the sort. Maybe figure out some new things along the way." He makes an attempt at filing away the birthday- and the vagueness helps to a degree, though, he really doesn't have any to offer her in return, save for a shrug, "As for moi, can't help you there, Madamoiselle. Like I said."

At the mention of a haunting, he squints at her a bit harder, as though trying to find something indiscernable- some thread or element that might hint at what she was talking about, though it's waved off a few moments later, "...In any case-, Thank you for helping with this. There's still more work to do, " When isn't there, "But I appreciate you helping with it. I should probably get back to it, en fait. I just figured I'd check in." He's already in the process of dusting himself, and making some small motions that he were getting ready to address the next thing on the agenda, but he still pauses long enough to inquire, "Unless there was anything else? I can add it to the list."