003.

[champions]

FORM: crystal
SENDER: Kostos, Nikos, Marisol
RECIPIENT: everyone
WHAT: don’t feed the zombie
WHEN: current
WHERE: Kirkwallerino
NOTES: Zombies, man. Related to the Nevarra diplomacy effort.

Beloved Inquisition. Charming, benevolent, remarkably good looking, delightful Inquisition.

(Here there is a quiet snort of sarcasm that belongs to Nikos.

Off to a great start. Marisol sighs wistfully. ) You will be happy to know that we are making headway in repairing our relationship with Nevarra. There is much to do, still, but the team I attended with did excellent work, and I am thankful to all of them.

Marisol. ( Quiet chiding, not really meant for anyone else but her. The point, Marisol, the point. )

Ah! ( A moment of enlightenment. Bless you, dear cousin. ) Another of my wondrous Nevarran relatives has descended upon the Inquisition. She is residing in the Gallows, but I would ask all of you to treat her with the utmost respect, and maintain a safe and healthy distance.

( c: )

She— ( wait, no, Kostos isn’t playing along with that ridiculousness ) —It is in a locked room in the central tower. You should not be at risk of encountering it unless you make an effort.

Don’t make the effort. Unless you want your eyeballs speared by long fingernails and the state of your cloak slyly disrespected. The former more likely than the latter. I think her tongue is rotted. (wait…. In a Kostos voice that actually sounds pretty much like his own voice, slightly different accent, slightly more sullen? Less sullen? Hard to say.) It has a rotted tongue. All dust.

(And he sounds way too darkly amused about that. Meanwhile, Marisol sounds as chill and entertained as always, the faint note of reproof entirely playful. )

Great Great Great Aunt Berenike is a woman of considerable reputation, but presently also of considerable temper. She has very graciously acquiesced to participate in our efforts to cure the revered dead of the Necropolis of their current ill-humour, but she is not not one to suffer fools.

Except for dinner. She will gladly suffer fools for dinner.

Comments

[foundmyselfagain]

And people thought I was joking about the vengeful and enraged dead great-aunt.

[ Gareth NEVER jokes! The nerve! ]

[champions]

No one should ever doubt you, dear Gareth.

[foundmyselfagain]

Then you should take my wonderful and intelligent advice and just give whatever spirit has its spirit panties in a twist in there the boot. Let your dear aunt have some peace. Give her a spirit of Contemplation, or Quietness, or Not Killing People.

[champions]

I love it, you must recommend it to Kostos. A Spirit of Dance!

[exequy]

No.

[ Not to the general idea. Just the dance part. ]

[champions]

Yes!

[exequy]

[champions]

[foundmyselfagain]

I stick with my original suggestion. I don’t need to see your poor aunt break a hip trying to shake her withered tail feathers.

...Is it possible, though? Surely there isn’t some kind of limit on how many spirits can possess a corpse, if the first one is removed. Of course, that might end up with an angry demon amok instead of an angry aunt.

[exequy]

It is possible, but not as a first step. We need to know what happened. If it is something physical, in the body, replacing the spirit will only infect it as well. If it is a corruption of the spirit, altering it might lose us our chance to determine how it happened. And—what you said.

[foundmyselfagain]

Well, if we do it, and it turns out to be a physical thing, that helps narrow down what’s going on, won’t it? And we’ll be right back where we started in terms of angry corpses. Except the whole possible demon thing. But I’ll protect you, Kostos.

[ ur hero, kostos. ]

I guess the ideal scenario would be experimenting on multiple bodies, but I’m guessing Nevarra wouldn’t be down with exporting a few more of them.

[exequy]

We were lucky to acquire this one, even taking into account how little anyone cares about our family anymore. But if we first make some progress to justify the request, perhaps we could ask for more.

[private]

[foundmyselfagain]

[ He quickly switches to private, before cheerfully suggesting: ]

I could steal more. I won't even let them know the Inquisition did it.

[exsecutus]

Any of that would add to her unrest. She is a famously wretched harpy. Picked her teeth with the bones of serving girls who had displeased her. Clothed herself in finery stolen from her victims and made wigs of their hair. Bathed in blood.

A real noblewoman of breeding.

[exequy]

Nikos.

[exsecutus]

[With an air of begrudging revision,] Finery rightfully claimed.

[exequy]

[ FRUSTRATED HUFF. ]

[champions]

Don't be absurd. She'd never have made the wigs herself.

[exsecutus]

She might have. Everyone must have hobbies.

[foundmyselfagain]

She sounds like she would’ve had the makings of a fine Knight-Commander. She was wasted on nobility.

[exsecutus]

She would have needed magic to pursue that calling. But in order to keep the conversation moving [toward its end] and as all nobility is a waste... I'll simply agree.

[foundmyselfagain]

I don't know what kind of Templars you have running around in Nevarra, but here, having magic is kind of...a hard ban on getting to be a Templar and run things. Or much of any job, really.

But I'm glad you agree with me anyway.

[exsecutus]

[Somewhere, Nikos looks at his wine cup, which is now empty for the fifth time.]

In Nevarra, everyone is magical. Even Templars, and me. That's why we're so well-liked, as a country. Or not.

[More sulky:]

You know what I meant. Who cares.

[foundmyselfagain]

You are magically delightful.

[ Aggressively meets his sulking with GOOD CHEER. ]

And Templars care, I imagine. So: No one who matters.

[exsecutus]

Terminally.

[And also, with dry obedience:]

Hah.

[Take that, good cheer.]