[ He could go now, really, except for spite. And an inborn instinct to kick whenever anyone gives him something that feels like an order, whether it comes with an if you please or not.
But his curiosity will get the better of him in half an hour or so regardless, if Ilias waits for a knock. ]
[ 10 years later In his own sweet time, Ilias moves to unlatch the door, letting it swing in his wake as he pulls back into the room again. ]
Come in. Close it behind you, if you would.
[ The laboratory itself is tidy— no more than a few herbs and papers on the desk, empty of a single possessed animal or skull. The long table that occupies the center of the room shows no signs of recent use, clear save for a small cloth pouch at the near end. ]
Before I show you anything, [ and solely for lack of other options, ] I would like your word that it will stay strictly between us. At least until we agree what it means.
[ It wasn't a long pause. And he doesn't mean—and Ilias must know, unless he's an idiot, which has never been the problem Kostos has with him—that he won't immediately march to the top of the tower and tell the Division Heads everything and then a few extra spiteful and marginally embarrassing Fabria Facts, if Ilias is about to show him something that means other peoples' lives are in danger and ask him to hide it.
He also doesn't mean he won't tell Nell.
But otherwise: fine.
He's already looking around the room. Without any context, the pouch doesn't earn much more of his attention than the papers. ]
[ If Ilias didn't already know, the lack of argument is indication enough of what sort of agreement this is. Limited. Not for the first time, he wonders if telling literally anyone else might have been a better idea. (He could have told Isaac, for example, instead of sticking his foot in it, and be having a monumentally better day right now.)
But if this is some kind of elaborate conspiracy, the first potential saboteurs to eliminate are the ones in this room.
He grimaces, swiping up a square of leather and a forceps before he moves for the pouch; sealed or no, he's not touching what's in there with his bare hands. ]
I found this, [ Out slides a small phial, glowing gently red — crystalline, not liquid. Red lyrium. ] in my examination of your great aunt.
[ ...And then seriously considered never telling you, you're welcome. ]
But Kostos isn't fully surprised to see it, and he doesn't need to come any closer to know what it is. Now that he knows what he's listening for, in the silence between sentences he can hear it—a shadow of lyrium's song, the kind of dark that could disguise a chasm.
He folds his arms behind his back. ]
Do I want to know where? [ He doesn't. And more importantly: ] Was it in the phial, or did you move it there?
It was already contained — and buried deeply enough I do not believe anything in the Gallows has been directly exposed.
[ He's not a complete amateur.
But he isn't providing the whole story yet, either. Air chuffs through his nose, and there's a beat's hesitation, a re-settling of his weight to his heels before he adds, reluctant as teeth presented to pliers, ]
Where matters less, perhaps, than how well it was hidden.
[ Where Kostos's surprise is barely a ripple, Ilias's is a peak he teeters upon now, eyes flicking over the other mage, clinging tight-jawed to his doubts. He'd expected to find something, yes, an enchantment or a rune, but this? The implication is specific. Poisonous. A rot at the root of an organization he holds far dearer than the Inquisition — or a slander that could tarnish it mere weeks before a Nevarran seeks election as Divine. ]
This took time, and care, and significant skill to disguise. More than I can imagine from a layman. In the Gallows, in fact, I do not believe there is anyone who could have managed it outside of myself-- and you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Come down to my laboratory, if you please.
no subject
[ He could go now, really, except for spite. And an inborn instinct to kick whenever anyone gives him something that feels like an order, whether it comes with an if you please or not.
But his curiosity will get the better of him in half an hour or so regardless, if Ilias waits for a knock. ]
no subject
10 years laterIn his own sweet time, Ilias moves to unlatch the door, letting it swing in his wake as he pulls back into the room again. ]Come in. Close it behind you, if you would.
[ The laboratory itself is tidy— no more than a few herbs and papers on the desk, empty of a single possessed animal or skull. The long table that occupies the center of the room shows no signs of recent use, clear save for a small cloth pouch at the near end. ]
Before I show you anything, [ and solely for lack of other options, ] I would like your word that it will stay strictly between us. At least until we agree what it means.
[ So, forever? ]
no subject
no subject
[ It wasn't a long pause. And he doesn't mean—and Ilias must know, unless he's an idiot, which has never been the problem Kostos has with him—that he won't immediately march to the top of the tower and tell the Division Heads everything and then a few extra spiteful and marginally embarrassing Fabria Facts, if Ilias is about to show him something that means other peoples' lives are in danger and ask him to hide it.
He also doesn't mean he won't tell Nell.
But otherwise: fine.
He's already looking around the room. Without any context, the pouch doesn't earn much more of his attention than the papers. ]
no subject
But if this is some kind of elaborate conspiracy, the first potential saboteurs to eliminate are the ones in this room.
He grimaces, swiping up a square of leather and a forceps before he moves for the pouch; sealed or no, he's not touching what's in there with his bare hands. ]
I found this, [ Out slides a small phial, glowing gently red — crystalline, not liquid. Red lyrium. ] in my examination of your great aunt.
[ ...And then seriously considered never telling you, you're welcome. ]
no subject
But Kostos isn't fully surprised to see it, and he doesn't need to come any closer to know what it is. Now that he knows what he's listening for, in the silence between sentences he can hear it—a shadow of lyrium's song, the kind of dark that could disguise a chasm.
He folds his arms behind his back. ]
Do I want to know where? [ He doesn't. And more importantly: ] Was it in the phial, or did you move it there?
no subject
[ He's not a complete amateur.
But he isn't providing the whole story yet, either. Air chuffs through his nose, and there's a beat's hesitation, a re-settling of his weight to his heels before he adds, reluctant as teeth presented to pliers, ]
Where matters less, perhaps, than how well it was hidden.
[ Where Kostos's surprise is barely a ripple, Ilias's is a peak he teeters upon now, eyes flicking over the other mage, clinging tight-jawed to his doubts. He'd expected to find something, yes, an enchantment or a rune, but this? The implication is specific. Poisonous. A rot at the root of an organization he holds far dearer than the Inquisition — or a slander that could tarnish it mere weeks before a Nevarran seeks election as Divine. ]
This took time, and care, and significant skill to disguise. More than I can imagine from a layman. In the Gallows, in fact, I do not believe there is anyone who could have managed it outside of myself-- and you.
[ Pointed. look. ]