eachdraidh | iii. video. open, then unseelie-locked. backdated to the end of september, ~29-30th

[UNLOCKED: VISIBLE TO ALL.]

[Candlelight laps at the dim image of the Brucolac's face, showing up mottled scars along his cheeks. His expression is tired. Whether it's the light or exhaustion, his olive skin looks faintly greenish.]

Alyosha of Redgate is dead by the hand of Reynard the Fox.

[It's not a lie. She is exactly as deceased as he is. He sighs out a breath, tches faintly, and moves on, his hoarse, scratchy voice impassive.]

Unrelatedly, I require information on the thief who stole the feathers of the birdking. He wasn't found? Did anyone pick up a trail?

[He knows he wasn't found. Hence (partly) the current sticky situation he's in.]

[LOCKED TO UNSEELIE.]

I'm at Caer Scima.

[He hisses through his teeth, rubs his forehead; his head is pounding, thick knots of tension twisting in his temples, pain shooting down his neck, bursting behind his eyes, tightening his jaw. Bone-dry and grimly humourous, he says:]

If anyone, preferably human, feels they have a surplus of blood.

[That sentence is left unfinished, the conclusion—in his mind, at least—obvious.]

[LOCKED TO ALICE & BERSERKER.]

[Flatly:]

What the fuck happened.

- - - -

[ooc: I realised too late that dating it this way means it went up a few days before new arrivals, damn it! but PLEASE feel free to have any newbies reply a few days late, if you so wish. c: ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mm. You aren't?

No, I'm not.

[and he smiles, all sweet and innocent.]

Tzilan and I had a nice, long talk while you were off attempting to reanimate the dead.

[If he's hoping for irritation, the Brucolac has no energy left for it; he jerks his chin in a kind of gruff and unsurprised acknowledgement.]

So I heard. You got what you wanted, then?

[hey, despite everything, he does still like the brucolac. consider it playful teasing.

and as appearances are a bit of a moot point where the brucolac is concerned now, so he can at least enjoy the opportunity to talk more openly about what happened in treun.]

Somewhat. There's still more to do, but Tzilan is much more agreeable when he isn't orchestrating people's deaths.

I don't think it's ever that far from his mind.

What were you promised, by the way? In return for your charming him.

[There must have been something, if the Brucolac has judged him even close to correctly.]

Edited (werdz) 2014-10-03 17:11 (UTC)

By who, Tzilan or Morla?

[he's extracted a nice handful of promises from the people in power here.]

Ha. Either, both.

You seem to be becoming someone to ask questions of, instead of someone to be questioned by.

[That's 'congrats' in whatever language the Brucolac speaks.]

Only just now "becoming"? Well, I suppose starting off with nothing here put me a bit behind...

[he seems very satisfied with the comment, however, and for that he'll actually answer the brucolac's question.]

Morla would make me a king, if I can get Tzilan to go meet with her. And Tzilan agreed to do as much willingly if I just do him a favor.

A king of what?

The city of Cothromach. But everyone has to start somewhere.

Cothromach.

A few days ago, the girl. [With a politician's gift for names:] Sansa. She named Cothromach as her territory.

Morla can't wave a hand and claim a city. She will give you the means, an army or a secret or a stone to throw, and it will be your choice how you throw it. You know that.

Fuck this place up further, Saralegui, and I'll take your eyes.

[If the Unseelie win Cothromach, it might be the end of the war.]

[apparently unphased, he just arches an eyebrow.]

I'm aware. Do you think I'd do anything to harm a city I plan to rule? You should at least know by now that armies aren't really my style. What are you so worried about?

[He snorts, not mollified.]

The city. You might not harm the city, that's true. But my gods, the city is so small in comparison to the other fuckery going on.

[what are you rebelling against, Brucolac? whaddaya got.]

Do you plan on actually explaining yourself at all, or am I meant to quiver in fear of your vague suggestions of larger consequences? Just give up right now, despite everything already done so far?

[he nearly died twice so far trying to accomplish this. you were there for both of them. you can't imagine that he isn't determined at this point.]

No, no, I know you won't give up. That's not what I'm suggesting.

[He drums his fingers, rubs at his chin. If Saralegui does take Cothromach, it could be convenient. It could also be a fucking disaster.

His voice sounds distant, faintly sad.]

I just hope you won't let Morla distract you with presents. That's how she does it; buys our allegience with our pride and our just desire for autonomy. Too intent upon our minor purposes, we fool ourselves into believing in some hope of a happy ending, as long as we sit tight, surveying our hard-won castles, our new powers, clinging to the illusion that they, and we, may weather the storm, even as our aqcuisition of them furthers her purpose. She's a fucking awful diplomat, but she's wonderfully good with people on an individual scale. She makes you work for her and think you're working for herself, all in the name of freedom. You work for her, and she pays you by making you a better tool for her use. A better weapon. A better puppet.

Don't take it as an insult. And don't dismiss it out of hand. You're proud, of course you are; you're powerful. [He gives a wry, grim smile.] Take it from me, humbled tyrant that I am. Anyone can be played.

[despite all that -- though the carefully placed flattery certainly does soothe the worst of it -- saralegui scoffs, narrowing his eyes at the locket.]

I should feel insulted, that you think I don't know that. Do you think I'm just looking for power for the sake of power, here? That I have no goals beyond regaining a title, that I'll just sit back after that and do her favors out of gratitude? You really don't get it yet?

[you should understand by now what he's like. proud, powerful, and very much spiteful.]

I'm going to destroy her.

A bloodless revolution?

[He looks ready to sneer, then physically winces, shaking his head. It's too much.]

We will talk further about this. But not tonight. I can't be fucked with your balls-just-dropped pique tonight.

[well. that certainly took the wind out of his sails. he'd sort of expected you to be on board with this. his smirk immediately drops into a scowl, and he rolls his eyes with all the drama of an exasperated teenage girl.]

Fine. We can talk about it again when you've decided to stop treating me like a child you need to talk down to. Enjoy your thief-hunting.

[He cuts the feed, leans back, puts a hand over his eyes and promptly begins to methodically swear the air blue.]

iii. video. open, then unseelie-locked. backdated to the end of september, ~29-30th

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