RP: Concerning the State of Vailkrin

Summary: During Kasyr's stay with Quintessa at Dragana Manor, he sets up a meeting with Mahri in an attempt to learn more about the current state of Vailkrin.

Kasyr has seen better days. Despite the 'careful' ministrations (Read: Throwing potions at the problem) provided by his student, Quintessa, the Kensai was still looking worse than the levels of beaten up which were his current norm. Case in point, his right arm was both splinted and currently tied against his chest, as the process of healing continued along it's merry way. Maybe that's why he'd decided upon wearing a disguise when he'd made the decision to venture once more into Vailkrin, trading in his more fashionable trenchcoat for a more obscuring black cloak. The only bit of customisation he'd made to it's otherwise plain appearance, is a pair of earhole slits, so that those perky ears could pop through. A healthy slathering of scent suppressing perfume also helped to maintain an air of anonymity- which helped, since he'd popped into the Tavern long enough to drop off a message with steadman. After all, it would be rude -not- to let an old acquaintance find him. Which brings us to the present moment, the swordsman seated alongside one of the many gargoyles that line the bridge.

Mahri was surprised to have gotten that note from Steadman and when she questioned who had brought it because the familiar scent of the Kensai hadn't lingered, he'd just shrugged the questions away. Now, armed with the note and determination, the lycan made her way to the bride. She wore her usual black shirt tucked loosely into soft black leather pants, fingerless gloves with the thumb sewn shut on the left hand. And, of course, a dagger strapped to her thigh. Her hair was different, where before it'd hung long and straight to her waist, she'd chopped it to about chin length and left it. Now, that figure seated among the statues would not be hard to pick out. The absense of scent being one, and the fact he didn't really match the decor. "Kasyr?" she questioned, just to make sure. Nostrils flare, trying to catch at least some scent for confirmation, tension tightening the wolf's shoulders as her fingers drift towards that dagger. Just in case.

Quintessa isn't currently here. She's at Dragana Manor scrubbing her cauldron because apparently -somebody- doesn't approve of her healing methods. Mixology? Potion mishaps? The changeling assumes this is all an excuse to ignore her hospitality. The nerve of some people.

Kasyr lifts up a hand in response to the query, only to briefly stoop over and cough, a hankerchief quickly produced to catch the festively colored fluids he's currently hacking up. Really, that cloth currently looks like it would be right at home in a hippie convention. Then he's clearing his throat, cramming the kerchief back into his pocket, and trying to take things from the top, "In the flesh, je suppose. It only took a few years, I guess." There's a lightheartedness to his voice, but there's an underlying rasp to his voice- a strain in his voice different from simple exhaustion. "How did you find out I was back, enfin?" Kasyr, inwardly, is blaming the genocide. Those don't tend to be subtle. Neither is being dropped off in the dark Forest by a dragon, for that matter. "Et how have the years been treating you?"

Mahri relaxed, and shoved her hands in front pockets before approaching Kasyr with a frown. Was that blood? Her nose twitched. Something was not right but.. she dismissed it for the time being. "I took a chance you'd drop in, left a note." Really, that's all she did. And to stir up a few of the houses in the process. "They could have been better," she admits but doesn't elaborate. After all, they hadn't exactly been close friends. "I need to know the state of things here, the politics." Nothing like getting right down to the nitty gritty business end of things. "The drow being what they are and having an interest here worries me." She'd already had an ambiguous chat with Daath about his plans.

Kasyr stretches back against the gargoyle, the motion all the more pronounced for just how much he takes his time, before he leans forward and offers her an expression of innocence that would look right at home on a cherub, and looks altogether crooked on him, "I think, in normal circumstances, that would be a rather odd question to ask moi, non? I've been abdicated, out of politics, et nigh-exiled for years, Madamoiselle. Even if we merely ran in similar circles, I think you'd have at least heard about that." He offers up a partial shrug, which looks a bit more like an awkward roll of his shoulders, before his expression grows a bit more serious, "It might help if you could provide a bit more context about what you're asking, enfin. See if it jogs my memory about anything pertinent."

Mahri arches a brow. She doesn't believe him for a second, but she'd lean in and when she does it's maybe then the lycan understands what's different about Kasyr. Silver-grey eyes widen slightly and the corner of her mouth might quirk but she'll continue the conversation as normal. After all, the Kensai was going through a lot of trouble to hide a few things. "First of all, I don't for a second believe you're entirely ignorant of what Daath and his wife are up to. Or just Daath himself. Second of all, I believe I was pretty direct in my question." But, if that's how he wanted to play things, the former assassin, thief and Jane of just about All Trades leans back and contemplates her next questions. "Who's in power now? I can't seem to find anyone who is. Larewen, I think, was making an attemp but for some reason she's decided to up and disappear." Which wasn't entirely a bad thing. She'd hate to have had to permanently stop her old friend.

Kasyr listens rather carefully, his current pretenses of impishness for the moment set aside, as he contemplates what Mahri asks. He's also inwardly grumpy at Steadman, as the cyclopean bartender was no doubt the one to rat him out, as the times he'd even met with Daath could be counted on one hand. "Tabernac. Well, I couldn't tell you that much about -Daath-, other than that he seems to be effectively running the mage's guild, et co-ordinating their efforts alongside the Drow's current agenda." He pauses there, staring at Mahri as he tries to gauge any sort of reaction, whether it be curiosity, or simple self-satisfaction at being correct, "Gevurah, however, seems rather singlemindedly focusing on wiping out the Razurath" A pause here, and then the Kensai bleakly adds, "Good riddance." Mahri's second question, does earn a smirk, however, "Whose in power is a -very- good question, right now. I..may have played a slight role in Larewen's dissapearance. " He wasn't sure, really- but showing up to threaten her twice -probably- didn't help. "But then, I was not overly fond of her bounty. Or ...other erratic decisions, despite how promising a candidate she once seemed. Which leaves an empty throne, ou council- with noone looking forward to being Vailkrins new punching bag, j'pense." He carefully let's out a breath, before reaching over to the gargoyle so he can drag himself up to his feet, "Why so concerned about the drow, et Vailkrin's power structure? It's not Cabal business, es it?" The latter question seems to elicit more of a tiredness from the swordsman, if anything.

Mahri tilts her head while she listens, carefully schooling her features into mild interest but hardly betraying her own inner thoughts. She'd gotten good at this. Although, Kasyr admitting he might have had a hand in the would-be-queen's disappearance should not have, and likely didn't surprise her. It was something she already knew about, but she'd nod apprpriately anyway as though hearing it for the first time. Thank you, Tessa. "No, she was a worry and I ought to thank you for saving me from a thankless and less than tasteful job." She noted how weak he seemed, needing the grotesque statue to stand. And the wolf will stand as well though she didn't remember sitting, it must have happened regardless. Mention of the Cabal draws a non-committed shrug. "I've seen Tenebrae recently but I'm not exactly with them anymore. I'm not particularly privvy to what their business is anymore." She'd gone rogue, so to speak. And by 'seen' she meant stolen something with the vampire. Old habits die hard.

Kasyr hops down onto the bridge proper, landing neatly on one foot, before he just sort of sways back into place. " Mmm, something in the air, peut-etre, to be drawing us back. Well, I've little inclination to be used as a battering ram, again." He dusts the cloak of a little alongside that mention, before offering an offhanded motion ton one side, "You didn't clarify your interest in the hierarchy, madamoiselle. Last I recall, weren't your interests more...Rynvale bound?" It'd been a while, but it sounded right to the swordsman, anyways. "I wouldn't have thought you'd have a stake in Vailkrins exhausting little hatchet fights." He looks ready to add something else to his comment, but holds off instead, seeming to wait for whatever other question's been left unsaid.

Mahri said, "Once upon a time maybe. Not so much anymore." she'll answer about her own interests. "I came here for Larewen, she's gone. I've a mind to set up business here and just want to know what toes not to step on. I guess you don't know as much as I had thought you would." Mahri's about ready to turn on her heel and leave except..."You really should get yourself to a healer, friend. Those wounds are going to fester if you don't and those of use who don't live off the blood of others tend to heal much slower."

Kasyr offers a rather lucklustre wave of his hand "Whether or not I had anything else to add, I'd certainly say what was provided es fair, given what was offered in return." Kasyr can't help but add, "Though, I'd be curious as to what sort of business you'd be running here that you'd be concerned about treading on my toes. It's not going to add to the volality of the area, es it?" Mahri's statement about his condition has him plucking the hankerchief out of his pocket, the traitorous bit of bloodstained fabric flicked over the railing of the bridge. " My state, as it were, es complicated- but no real cause for concern, madamoiselle. I'm simply being used as someone's personal alchemy kiln these days. Probably why I can't taste anything except spoiled fruit." There's a curt smile here, "That said, whatever epiphany you just came to, I'd appreciate if it remained a personal one. Suffice to say, peoples assumptions about moi, one way or the other- have generally served as a lovely deterrent for would be tyrants." Larewen included. Would she have tried to bite him, if she'd known it would have worked? If she came back?

Mahri lets out a sigh and shakes her head, "You don't need to worry. Whatever state you are or are not in is no concern of mine." And if that's how it was going to be, the the lycan can accept that. "No real danger to the area, no. Just a bit of trading." Smuggling and other things. "I would still see someone, if I were you," she offers a parting shot before strolling back the way she'd come and towards the Hanging Corpse where she'd sort of made a home. If passing out at the bar most nights could pass for being at home, and who knows for some people it did.

Kasyr would probably be amongst those who alcohol induced slumber could be considered a homecoming, though that was not the most helpful or manageable habit to have when nursuing the plethora of wounds he'd acquired. "Have a good evening, Cherie. Et, I wouldn't worry. I have a tendancy to survive." For the moment, however, that meant partaking of his students hospitality, as house Dragana provided far more comfortable circumstances then Daath & Gevurahs love nest, or the cramped quarters of his mage guild office. Plus, this current residence has an additional benefit- as there's a lot less hassle in finding wine without arousing the suspicions of an overly diligent drow Matron. "A bien tot."

Mahri hadn't a clue what Kasyr had said but a hand would be raised in fairwell anyway. Hopefully next time they met it'd be over a drink or two and possibly a few laughs instead of frustrated conversation. Ah well. It is what it is.