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

[faithlikeaseed]

Right--right. Thank you.

If there's any way I can be of service in--unraveling what's gotten into it--let me know. [His tone gets progressively fainter as he goes on. Still nails the ending though.

Faster they figure it out the faster it's gone, right?]

[exequy]

If we need assistance with research.

[ As in, he is not putting Myr and that faint voice in the same room as the corpse—maybe out of hidden kindness, definitely out of refusal to deal with him if he swoons. ]

[faithlikeaseed]

[he wouldn't swoon, he's (5/6ths of) a knight-enchanter!! he can handle a walking corpse without swooning!!

and go have screaming fantods after, in private, for several hours.

...he'll take the out.]

If. Right. Good. Well.

Best of luck with it.

[maybe he should take up drinking. who else can he kill or break up with it now??]