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Are you asking for volunteers to try to kill you?

[A smile plays on his lips, not because he thinks he could kill her, but because it's a very funny request.]

Yes. [ No this is the most serious, Dorian, don't laugh at it. ] Or they might as well. And I don't want people to hold back, either, otherwise it won't be useful.

[ Not that she plans on letting herself actually get killed, nor that she thinks very many people would be capable of it, but that's the point. She can't get complacent. ]

[This is the face of one Arno Dorian who, for not even a single second, believes this isn't suspicious. He may just be staring at the locket with a brow raised and his arns folded.]

Looking to make some maps? Javik asked my help for that once. A ship that flies gives a better lay of the land.

Sure of yourself, aren't you?

[ NAILED IT. ]

I know most things I'm capable of doing. I'd just like to know if I can do more.

[ Katsa mirrors that pose right back at him, expectantly waiting for him to say something, but patience has never been her strong point so we all know which one of them is losing the staring contest. ]

...Well?

Am I supposed to guess?

Edited 2015-12-21 05:22 (UTC)

A ship that flies! I've seen one. I've been on one—I didn't know there were more.

[ okay, okay, sign her up for very much intrigued. ]

Can they sail, too? I want to know the sea as well as the land.

Been on one here or where you come from?

[She knows there are a few others around in this world, but she always wants to know how much competition she has.]

It's a ship. Of course it sails on water.

Here. Not where I came from. We don't even know how to get one person to fly, let alone an entire ship.

What's the point of designing it to do both?

[ it's a genuine question, not a criticism. obviously it's more efficient, but who knows if there's another reason ]

There are times when it's best to be in the air and when it's best to be at sea. No reason to limit the function.

If you only wanted to fly, why make it a boat that flies at all?

[So mostly it's just efficient that way.]

Who captained the vessel you were on?

[ That's a satisfying enough answer, so Katsa accepts it. Remembering her last flying ship adventure, however, she frowns. She has no idea if it's supposed to be a secret. ]

I don't know the captain, unless it was the same man who called himself king aboard it. A man named Dorian.

Your Grace? What's that?

It's—

[ She's got to learn to keep better track of whom she's explained this to before and how she does it each time. She starts again. ]

Where I'm from, children whose eyes settle at a young age are called Gracelings. [ She gestures at her eyes: one blue, one green, abnormally bright. ] We know them by their different colored eyes of any colors. And each Graceling has a skill, a Grace, at which they're better than any Ungraced person could be no matter how hard or long that person trained. One of my uncle's cooks was Graced, and one of his stablehands, and he had a dancer and a woman Graced with numbers working in his countinghouse, the only woman with such a job in all seven kingdoms. Because it was her Grace, so there would be no one better. There are physical Graces, but there are also prescient and mind-reading Graces, like predicting the weather or reading desires.

I'm a Graced fighter. [ Hesitation. ] My true Grace is survival.

Dorian? Yes, I'm familiar with him.

Real cute.

[And he adventured with her once, so she doesn't consider him a rival or a problem.]

Cute? [ the incredulity is strong in this one. ] Well... if you think it...

So—is there anything you can teach me about maps and ships? Both the flying and sailing kind, I suppose.

You don't think so?

[Maybe she's a nun. Dorian's easy on the eyes. Chloe thinks most women would say so.]

I can teach you plenty, depending on what I'm getting in return.

[ katsa shrugs but doesn't respond. his is fine as faces go, but last time they met they didn't get along well, so she's inclined to think of it less fondly. and "cute" is not a word she has often heard to refer to grown men. ]

I've money, if it's payment you want.

Money will do just fine. And a copy of any maps you produce.

[She thinks those would be even more valuable to her.]

That's fine—I don't mind any of that. I'm not planning to keep anything a secret. But I'll need your name if I'm to know who my teacher is, so I can contact you at all with my maps.

If everyone were as awful as you are at being subtle, Katsa, I'd think the Drabwurld would implode upon itself.

[It's said wryly, one of his brows twitching upward as he watches her mimic his expression. She can play the part all she likes, Arno knows far better than to simply believe she wants to know how to make maps for leisure.]

Chloe Frazer.

My crew and I will be glad to assist you.

[ She presses her lips together and poorly suppresses a smile. ]

Who says I'm trying to be subtle? I'm only asking a few questions. You look like you're expecting to discover an enormous secret.

Chloe. I'm Katsa. Where did you learn to sail?

Huh.

[ That's a lot to take in, but Johnny handles it in stride -- it explains so much. ] That's pretty cool. So you survive no matter what?

[ She shakes her head. ]

I feel pain if I'm struck. [ Except she feels it far less and can ignore it far better than most. ] I might have frozen to death once. [ If she hadn't known all the ways to avoid it, and if her body hadn't been able to handle the cold better than any normal person's. ] I tire and hunger. [ At an abnormally slow rate. ]

When I compare myself to other people, I can do things that they can't. That are unusual. But I'm sure I can still die from all the usual methods.

Nice to meet you, Katsa.

I learned from a pirate. I was first mate for a time before he left this world. After Jack had gone, it seemed like a good idea to keep the business running.

Most of the sailing is actually done by my crew. I hire experienced men to do the real sailing, but I've been at this long enough that I've picked up what I need to know.

Edited 2015-12-28 19:24 (UTC)

You know, most of the time that would be very true- I do tend to look for the most obscure things.

[He sees that. Don't think he doesn't, Katsa.]

But this is you. I'd like to think I know better.

Yes. Well. You think you know quite a lot.

[ Arms still crossed, still very determined not to smile (for all her efforts are worth—they have limited success) as she eyes him through the locket. She's considering being contrary now just because he seems to be expecting it. You want secretive, Arno? She can be secretive. And evasive. Watch her. ]

Is that a natural habit of yours, to look for the most obscure things, or is it just part of being an Assassin?

Now, there's no need to be jealous. I know you're curious as to how I can do such a thing so easily, and I'm sure if you asked nicely, I could teach you.

[His own grin is one that he barely tries to hide, convinced that he knows that he's right and eventually she'll cough up whatever it is she's planning.

Then, of course, Katsa says the one thing he doesn't expect to hear, and everything stops.]

[For the briefest of moments, there is a flicker of something that crosses Arno's face. A mixture of emotions that fall between surprise, anger, betrayal, hurt. His mind is already working on a counter to speak, a way to block her revealing of who he is, but his body is taking longer to hide the emotions and his reactions to everything suddenly happening at once.

That, of course, disappears a second later, and he offers an amused huff for what she's just said.]

And here you are, throwing ridiculous accusations like you know me better than anyone else.

[It would be almost impossible for Katsa to miss that despite his cheery appearance, his entire back has gone rigid, and his arms are too tight to have his palms outstretched; instead keeping his curled fists below the locket so anyone else peering in doesn't see his reactions so easily.]

[And now, with the feed locked and away from anyone else barging in, does Arno actually snap his head up and stare into the locket as if Katsa's done some personal offense to him.]

Katsa. [The times before where he had called her name as a way to keep her from panicking, a reminder that he was still here when she felt as if she were to fall apart- this is not one of them. There is no kindness in his tone, no gentleness other than his own voice which is sharp and biting.

It serves not as him feeling threatened, but rather as danger. A warning.]

I told you about me, about the Assassins and the Templars, because I felt you deserved to know. You saw everything in Paris, saw how we worked to aid the people from corruption in where it lies. [His eyes are fierce, and not for an instant does he look away.] I thought you knew better than to say anything.

[Arno is more than upset; he's angry. Katsa has spoken about who he is without even a second thought, and to make matters worse, said it in a public space where others can see. She's not only endangered him, but endangered Élise as well.]

[Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arno is remembering the outburst that happened within the Brotherhood when he had arrived with a Templar in tow. His intentions were different, however; he knew he could trust Élise. Here, now- he wants to trust Katsa, knows better perhaps than many that to be considered her friend is something rare, but his anger and his own self-preservation push that aside in favor of making sure his own hide as well as other's are safe first.]

Do you have any idea what this can do to me? To Élise?

[His main concern isn't even about himself; if anything were to happen to Élise, if she were to be hurt or even worse- Arno would never forgive himself. It would be another burden to tie to his guilt and eventually bury him within his own self-hate.

The Frenchman breathes out at that, paces, looks away from the locket and scrubs his face just for a moment- before something strikes him and he stops mid-step and his eyes widen. In the next instant, he closes his eyes, breathes out through his nose, and opens them again to give Katsa perhaps one of the most betrayed and hurt faces he's given to anyone in years.

Quietly:] Who else have you told about me?

[For if she talks about him being an Assassin so easily, surely she might have told others without even giving it a second thought.]

[ She sees that flicker even in the bare, brief moment that it flashes across his face. It isn't that Katsa particularly tends towards reading others well—quite the opposite, in fact, for she often misses what is right in front of her face. But that lack of tendency becomes an unnatural ability to pick up on the smallest of details among the people about whom she cares the most, whom she watches and wishes to know when they are happy and when they are in pain. So for all that it's brief when the look appears on Arno's face Katsa sees it; and she knows, as surely as she has ever known anything, that something is wrong.

But in that short moment of silence in which Katsa nearly lurches to her feet from where she's sitting she cannot grasp at what could possibly be wrong, and the look vanishes. Perhaps she imagined it, she thinks, for Arno's response is almost something as normal as anything else he has said—yet it is not quite, something in his words too serious, something in his shoulders too stiff.

Yes, something is definitely wrong. And she's ready to ignore their banter of only seconds before and demand to know what that something is when she's notified that he's locked the feed. Locked the feed. A cold, horrible sinking feeling suddenly floods her chest and chokes her throat and she realizes what she’s done wrong. She’d been so comfortable. So secure. And so she’d forgotten how they were speaking and teased him for the secrets he’d shared with her, and their conversation hadn’t been private at all. ]

Arno—

[ The realization at what she’s done is striking in the look on her face that might almost be horror at her own mistake. She’s ready to apologize, too, and it’s halfway out of her mouth—Forgive me—when his face turns hard and angry and her name snaps out of his mouth in a way she’s never heard before. Anything she might have said dies on her tongue right then, and all she can do is listen. ]

[ Anger, warning, danger. Katsa knows all of these emotions. She knows how to deliver them, and she’s even seen them on Arno’s face before, but she has never seen them directed at her. It leaves her speechless, so utterly caught off guard she is and shocked to see it, and worst of all there’s a horrible feeling of deja vu at being faced with such a dear friend’s anger. Horrible, and of course she’d caused it, and even after all she has seen and done in the Drabwurld she has still managed to turn yet another person she loves in anger against her.

I felt you deserved to know. I thought you knew better to say anything. She winces with each delivery, but Katsa is determined to allow him his anger. She will not pity herself, she tells herself fiercely, for she has only herself to blame for her mistakes. It’s well within her nature to be this strange sort of friend, one who holds so tightly that eventually she herself turns to bite the hands stretched out to her in friendship. It must be the worst sort of friend, too, but it’s what she is, and she has no excuse for it. She ought to have been more aware, and she will not be upset for the feelings he is allowed to have for something she cannot take back.

Katsa’s first words would have been an apology, too, if he hadn’t asked his final question. She’d have finished what she’d started to say when she’d registered his anger, for that was anger she had deserved. This question, however—this is undeserved. And this is the one that hurts the most, for the look that he gives her when he asks it. It hurts because she knows that she has caused that expression on his face, the one that pains her to see in a friend. It hurts because she hates to see him hurt. But it hurts worst of all because he thinks that despite her mistake here, her lapse in attention and judgment in the middle of a conversation that she had thought was merely between them, he believes this is not the first time she would have done it.

Arno would think she would share his stories and secrets, the ones not hers to tell. Katsa does not think in that moment that he has a right to believe that if she would let it slip here then she could let her judgment falter somewhere else, too. She hasn't said anything, so she doesn't deserve the question as though it has already happened. Instead the realization of what the assumption in his question must be hurts so much that it makes her angry, because anger is easier to feel than hurt. It’s anger at herself, of course, for forgetting—but it’s anger too for the realization that she is not the friend she wishes to be, anger that he is looking at her with such an expression and she can do nothing to end it, anger that he would believe that his friendship could mean so little to her. Anger that she has lost his trust—and anger that she has no one but herself to blame. ]

[ That anger comes in a gasp, for Katsa cannot at first think of anything else to say. She grabs onto it, because it’s more familiar and less frightening than hurt and guilt, and this is her second mistake. ]

If you believe that I would tell anyone, Arno, not thinking that we were alone, only you and I—that I would share your secrets with anyone else when I had no right to do so or otherwise forget completely about who you really are—then I don’t know you at all. As you do not know me.

[ She knows she regrets her words as soon as she says them, but the mortifying burning in her eyes only makes her less capable of thinking about what she is saying before she does. It's too late, besides. The words have been said. ]

[He knows from the moment she speaks his name, she realizes her mistake. That what has now been said cannot be taken back, and if anyone is curious, he could be in jeopardy. She goes to apologize and he won't let her, and any attempt she makes he knows that she has chosen to listen rather than speak. Every word he delivers is like a blade, strong and painful and he cannot stop it, will not because it is so incredibly important to him and who he is.

He should be thankful she realizes where she went wrong. He should be thankful she understands that it's her fault, that this is something she can't take back. Instead all he feels is regret and hurt of his own, not for what she's done, but what he has said to her. The accusation he gives, asking for who she's told- isn't one of scolding, but one where he's trying to sort out how to avoid problems, how to counter if anything goes wrong. He doesn't mean it to hurt as it does, but that's the price that comes with words; a double-sided blade that can do more damage than what was intended. He's upset that she's broken his trust, but more than that he's upset that he's upset her.

Arno opens his mouth to say something else once she reacts, but he isn't prepared for the words that come next, ones that sting just as raw as he gave to her. He immediately blanks, acting as if he's just been struck across the face with her palm, not even knowing how to process what she's told him. Arno knows it's anger that's the reaction, which is valid, but it burns him in ways he hasn't felt in years, back to the time when Élise accused him of letting her father die.

So instead of saying anything gentler, or perhaps an apology of his own, he snaps his jaw shut and swallows back the immediate retort of at least I know I can trust myself, knowing all too well it will only make things worse.]

You're right. You don't.

[A spitting back in his own way, harsh and strong; his anger hasn't lessened by any degree.]

I trusted you, Katsa. I thought I knew you just as well as I knew myself. [There is a beat in between the sentences, a look of defeat coming across Arno's face as he realizes he can no longer trust her as his friend.

Not for now, at least.]

I was wrong.

[ It's worse than if she had hit him, because at least then she could have seen the damage, known how to regulate her swings and stopped things before they got out of hand. And physical blows from him in return wouldn't hurt as much as this does, either. Words are more difficult. Katsa has no idea the strength of their blow when she says them nor the sting of them when they land. It's more difficult, and because of that it's more frightening; and even if she wished to she can't hit him now in an effort to turn words into something physical that she understands, because she is not even standing next to him. ]

Yes. I suppose you were. No—how dare you look at me like that.

[ Of course she's also crying hot tears now, and that's just embarrassing on top of everything else. She wipes furiously at her face, setting her mouth into a scowl, blue and green eyes as bright with fierceness as they are with her tears. She'd made a mistake, one stupid, maddening mistake. And suddenly everything is falling apart and she doesn't know how to keep it from doing so. How had she allowed this to happen? She had always been the one angrier with Po whenever he'd suggested telling his own secret; she'd always held on to secrets so tightly, when the truth could put others at risk. It isn't as though she cares for Arno any differently. Perhaps she simply hadn't comprehended the magnitude of this secret. But that couldn't be right, either, for Katsa would never had let it slip if she hadn't thought they were alone. She'd grown complacent, that was it: she'd been so relieved and happy, so sure of herself, that she'd forgotten what it was to need to be careful. And that was a terrible, deadly thing to allow.

But still he wasn't being fair.

You could always trust me. You always can trust me, Katsa aches to say, but she doesn't say what she should. ]

I made a mistake, and I'm sorry for it. But how dare you act as though you're blameless between us.

[ ...Ah. Katsa frowns. ]

The business. The business of pirating?

The business of treasure hunting.

[They weren't pirating, even when Jack was in charge.]

And now merchant work when it comes in.

Oh. Well, that's all right then, if no one is being harmed. [ She settles back. ] Have you ever found much?

Oh sure, lots. I had a treasure map filled with locations ripe for discovery, but now that the world's changed, it won't be doing me any good.

If I find any places that might be hoarding piles of gold, I'll be sure to mark them on my maps for you.

[ Is she joking? It's hard to tell if she's joking. ]

I'd think the exciting thing would be even more new things to discover now.

[Joking or not, Chloe likes the idea.]

I'd appreciate it if you would.

[She smiles.]

Honestly, I'm not really thrilled to be starting from scratch. Again. I just got comfortable with how things were.

[ Katsa raises her eyebrows, her tone incredulous. ]

Not with a hole in the sky killing everything it ate.

Edited 2016-01-04 17:33 (UTC)

[She laughed.]

Not that part. Just knowing where things were. Having a purpose and a direction.

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