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[ He'd like to believe it was all the Outsider's doing. He really would. But even believing it's half that bastard's fault is better than nothing. Lets him almost, almost fool himself into thinking he needn't fully shoulder the blame. Lets him almost believe he was the victim as well as the monster. (Though the delusion rarely penetrates to his core. He knows too well what he'd done, how it'd felt. Knows he'd made certain choices and stuck with them, bloody as they'd been.)
Daud flinches and looks away, sniffs. Of course Corvo would bring that up. Coming from anyone else, Daud would've taken the assertion easily enough. Would've simply pointed out that he couldn't have done it (he could have) without the Void's powers. That it never would have happened if the bastard hadn't interfered. From this man, though, he can't so easily brush it off. ]
I'm aware.
[ When he looks back, he's surprised to find Corvo standing. He hadn't heard a thing and now the man's above him, now he's got the high ground and could so easily attack. (And who knows what Corvo would do for that woman, long gone as she is. (As if she's ever been gone for Daud. As if he isn't visited by her memory again, again, unending.))
He's tensing again, though it's not so focused this time, though now he's too sharply aware of the lingering question of Jessamine and all that it suggests. ]
We'll all be better once he's gone.
[ He has to believe it, though even now the conviction in his voice has waned, wavered just minutely. ]
Tell the Empress we're not interested.
Daud flinches and looks away, sniffs. Of course Corvo would bring that up. Coming from anyone else, Daud would've taken the assertion easily enough. Would've simply pointed out that he couldn't have done it (he could have) without the Void's powers. That it never would have happened if the bastard hadn't interfered. From this man, though, he can't so easily brush it off. ]
I'm aware.
[ When he looks back, he's surprised to find Corvo standing. He hadn't heard a thing and now the man's above him, now he's got the high ground and could so easily attack. (And who knows what Corvo would do for that woman, long gone as she is. (As if she's ever been gone for Daud. As if he isn't visited by her memory again, again, unending.))
He's tensing again, though it's not so focused this time, though now he's too sharply aware of the lingering question of Jessamine and all that it suggests. ]
We'll all be better once he's gone.
[ He has to believe it, though even now the conviction in his voice has waned, wavered just minutely. ]
Tell the Empress we're not interested.
[If Daud denied his past actions in any of those ways, Corvo would not have accepted the excuses. Daud certainly couldn't convince Corvo that he was incapable of killing Jess without his power. Maybe it wouldn't have been so easy, and maybe Corvo would have stopped him, but Daud was probably a talented killer before the Outsider came long.
Looking down at him, Corvo could do whatever he wanted. End Daud's life. Make him suffer until his last breath was gone. Years ago, he pardoned Daud, and if he could do it then, when the loss was so fresh, he can certainly continue to do it now that age has tempered Corvo's anger.
Corvo doesn't know if they'll be better off with the Outsider gone. Or if Daud and Billie can even do it. Guess they'll all wait and see.]
Goodbye, Daud.
[Corvo does not expect he'll see the man again unless it's in the Void.]
Looking down at him, Corvo could do whatever he wanted. End Daud's life. Make him suffer until his last breath was gone. Years ago, he pardoned Daud, and if he could do it then, when the loss was so fresh, he can certainly continue to do it now that age has tempered Corvo's anger.
Corvo doesn't know if they'll be better off with the Outsider gone. Or if Daud and Billie can even do it. Guess they'll all wait and see.]
Goodbye, Daud.
[Corvo does not expect he'll see the man again unless it's in the Void.]
[ Every day, he wakes up certain it’ll end. That he’ll awaken at swordpoint or with a blade buried in his chest, a joke brought to its conclusion. Because how could this be lasting. How could this be true.
He’s in Dunwall Tower now, he and Billie both, though he hasn’t seen her since yesterday and her absence is starting to make him uneasy. He doesn’t know precisely how they got here. Knows Billie must have managed most of it. Knows they’re supposed to be here at the invitation of the Empress, though he doesn’t quite believe it, can’t turn that thought to sense.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. Is almost certain he hasn’t left this room. After days (days and more?) of fever, he’s only now beginning to regain clarity.
There’s much he doesn’t remember. He remembers telling Billie about Corvo’s offer, mentioning it as a joke only to find she wasn’t laughing. Remembers a heated discussion about keeping to his plan, a growing guilt at what that plan might mean for Billie (but in the end it’d be better, better for everyone if the bastard was ended). Remembers the fever setting in as his life collapsed in on itself. Remembers sending Billie on a mission - maybe? - remembers sinking into a chair and everything going black and…
And then it’s all fragments. Words Billie may or may not have spoken, taunts from the Outsider Daud may have imagined, glimpses of waves and the sway of a boat and what had he agreed to, or had he agreed to it at all? Then new faces new voices and Billie saying they’d arrived and she was sorry, so sorry.
Where is Billie?
In all the fever’s haze, she’d been the most constant figure, the voice he heard time and again, the only familiar piece that anchored all this unreality. It’s strange to awaken and find her absent. Strange to finally feel clear, only to find she’s gone.
(An upsetting thought: What if she’d never been here? What if he’d imagined it? What might have happened to Billie?)
He has to find her. He’ll look for Billie. Make sure she’s all right.
Standing takes some work, while locating and putting on his clothes takes longer than he’d like. He’s shaky, unused to standing and drained by the fever and by everything contact with the knife had done to him.
Still, it’s different. He may be shaky, but he feels more… more whole than he has in months. They’ve done something to him. Treated him somehow, because while his body still feels worn, more weary than it should, the sense of constant wracking drain has vanished. They must have counter-acted the effects of the artifact, though he can’t say how that could have been.
Once he’s dressed - precise as he can be, presentable as is possible - he takes a slow look around the room. He doesn’t like the idea of leaving the room unprotected, but there’s nothing here to serve as a weapon. His dagger’s been taken, and it seems as if they’ve cleared the room of anything that could be used as weaponry. Smart of them. And irritating, but there’s nothing to be done for it.
If the door’s unlocked and unguarded, he’ll make his way down the hallway. If anyone’s on guard, he’ll ask after Billie, insisting that he be left to look for her, insisting that he must. ]
He’s in Dunwall Tower now, he and Billie both, though he hasn’t seen her since yesterday and her absence is starting to make him uneasy. He doesn’t know precisely how they got here. Knows Billie must have managed most of it. Knows they’re supposed to be here at the invitation of the Empress, though he doesn’t quite believe it, can’t turn that thought to sense.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. Is almost certain he hasn’t left this room. After days (days and more?) of fever, he’s only now beginning to regain clarity.
There’s much he doesn’t remember. He remembers telling Billie about Corvo’s offer, mentioning it as a joke only to find she wasn’t laughing. Remembers a heated discussion about keeping to his plan, a growing guilt at what that plan might mean for Billie (but in the end it’d be better, better for everyone if the bastard was ended). Remembers the fever setting in as his life collapsed in on itself. Remembers sending Billie on a mission - maybe? - remembers sinking into a chair and everything going black and…
And then it’s all fragments. Words Billie may or may not have spoken, taunts from the Outsider Daud may have imagined, glimpses of waves and the sway of a boat and what had he agreed to, or had he agreed to it at all? Then new faces new voices and Billie saying they’d arrived and she was sorry, so sorry.
Where is Billie?
In all the fever’s haze, she’d been the most constant figure, the voice he heard time and again, the only familiar piece that anchored all this unreality. It’s strange to awaken and find her absent. Strange to finally feel clear, only to find she’s gone.
(An upsetting thought: What if she’d never been here? What if he’d imagined it? What might have happened to Billie?)
He has to find her. He’ll look for Billie. Make sure she’s all right.
Standing takes some work, while locating and putting on his clothes takes longer than he’d like. He’s shaky, unused to standing and drained by the fever and by everything contact with the knife had done to him.
Still, it’s different. He may be shaky, but he feels more… more whole than he has in months. They’ve done something to him. Treated him somehow, because while his body still feels worn, more weary than it should, the sense of constant wracking drain has vanished. They must have counter-acted the effects of the artifact, though he can’t say how that could have been.
Once he’s dressed - precise as he can be, presentable as is possible - he takes a slow look around the room. He doesn’t like the idea of leaving the room unprotected, but there’s nothing here to serve as a weapon. His dagger’s been taken, and it seems as if they’ve cleared the room of anything that could be used as weaponry. Smart of them. And irritating, but there’s nothing to be done for it.
If the door’s unlocked and unguarded, he’ll make his way down the hallway. If anyone’s on guard, he’ll ask after Billie, insisting that he be left to look for her, insisting that he must. ]
[The staff are a little worried about Daud wandering around like an escaped prisoner. Some of the maids flee at the sight of him, since they know him to be a dangerous man. Even the guards are wary of approaching him. Not because they don't want to, but because they have orders.
Once Daud finally managers to corner a servant, the man points him in the direction of a room with large double doors.
When Daud goes to that room to look for Billie, inside he finds a comfortable sitting room with furnishings and a roaring fire. There's a large desk and ticking grandfather clock. Sitting at that desk is not Billie, who's nowhere to be seen, but Corvo Attano.
Corvo puts a couple of papers down on the desk and stands.]
Daud. You're alive.
[It was a little uncertain for awhile if Daud would actually pull through.]
Come in.
Once Daud finally managers to corner a servant, the man points him in the direction of a room with large double doors.
When Daud goes to that room to look for Billie, inside he finds a comfortable sitting room with furnishings and a roaring fire. There's a large desk and ticking grandfather clock. Sitting at that desk is not Billie, who's nowhere to be seen, but Corvo Attano.
Corvo puts a couple of papers down on the desk and stands.]
Daud. You're alive.
[It was a little uncertain for awhile if Daud would actually pull through.]
Come in.
[ It's bizarre, walking through this place so openly. Daud doesn't like the feeling of being gawked at, or the feeling that he's one misstep away from being gutted from three or four directions. When the servant at last offers direction, he enters the room, pauses, and curses internally.
He shouldn't have trusted the servant to guide him. He considers turning around and walking out, but he'll have to face Corvo at some point. Besides, he was getting nowhere with the servants and guards outside; Corvo at least might have information.
And he could use a moment's rest. The walk here had taken something out of him, and he can't simply ignore the fact. Not if he wants to keep from collapsing in the middle of Dunwall Tower, in front of servants and guards and Void knows who else. Better to take this time to cease standing for a moment. So he sinks into a chair near the desk, doing his best to make the motion seem natural, doing his best to keep his posture imperious (it's difficult; it may not last for long).
Still hard to believe he'd seen this aged version of Corvo on the Dreadful Wale. Harder still to believe where they are now. Of all the places he'd never thought he'd be, the Tower had to sit at the top of the list. What had Daud agreed to in coming here? Or had he agreed to it at all? He can't remember. He can't recall.
There are half a hundred questions he could ask. How he got here. How long he's been here. What they'd done to him (because how, how is it he doesn't feel that drain anymore, that sense of his life being siphoned so swiftly away). What Corvo wants with him, expects from him. What happened to the Outsider. (What happened to the Outsider?) Why Daud was permitted to walk freely through the hallways. What's meant to happen next.
But there's only one question that reaches voice. ]
Where's Billie.
He shouldn't have trusted the servant to guide him. He considers turning around and walking out, but he'll have to face Corvo at some point. Besides, he was getting nowhere with the servants and guards outside; Corvo at least might have information.
And he could use a moment's rest. The walk here had taken something out of him, and he can't simply ignore the fact. Not if he wants to keep from collapsing in the middle of Dunwall Tower, in front of servants and guards and Void knows who else. Better to take this time to cease standing for a moment. So he sinks into a chair near the desk, doing his best to make the motion seem natural, doing his best to keep his posture imperious (it's difficult; it may not last for long).
Still hard to believe he'd seen this aged version of Corvo on the Dreadful Wale. Harder still to believe where they are now. Of all the places he'd never thought he'd be, the Tower had to sit at the top of the list. What had Daud agreed to in coming here? Or had he agreed to it at all? He can't remember. He can't recall.
There are half a hundred questions he could ask. How he got here. How long he's been here. What they'd done to him (because how, how is it he doesn't feel that drain anymore, that sense of his life being siphoned so swiftly away). What Corvo wants with him, expects from him. What happened to the Outsider. (What happened to the Outsider?) Why Daud was permitted to walk freely through the hallways. What's meant to happen next.
But there's only one question that reaches voice. ]
Where's Billie.
[Daud might put on a strong face, but he only just woke up, so he can't possibly be at full strength yet. If Corvo knew just how much running around the tower Daud had done before ending up in a chair at his desk, Corvo would be impressed.
When Daud sits, Corvo does as well after a moment and reaches for the papers again. Reports from patrols and the like. Nothing noteworthy, so Corvo isn't as interested in the papers as the man across from him.]
Out. Probably on whatever wild goose chase you sent her on.
[No masking that disapproving tone.]
When Daud sits, Corvo does as well after a moment and reaches for the papers again. Reports from patrols and the like. Nothing noteworthy, so Corvo isn't as interested in the papers as the man across from him.]
Out. Probably on whatever wild goose chase you sent her on.
[No masking that disapproving tone.]
[ He might have winced - knowing what that goose chase might be, suspecting what it might mean for Billie - if it hadn't been for Corvo's tone. If it hadn't been for the fact that this wild goose chase (is Billie truly continuing the work? they must not have killed the bastard, then; they aren't finished yet... unless this is another errand entirely?) is none of Corvo's business. He wants to respond with a solid 'Good'. Wants to, but instead— ]
Well.
And you let her go.
[ The words feel strange to say, because no one lets Billie Lurk do anything; no one has that power over her. She simply goes as she pleases, makes her own way and of course there's nothing Corvo or the whole of the Tower could do to stop her. ]
Well.
And you let her go.
[ The words feel strange to say, because no one lets Billie Lurk do anything; no one has that power over her. She simply goes as she pleases, makes her own way and of course there's nothing Corvo or the whole of the Tower could do to stop her. ]
[Corvo taps the documents against the table to straighten them and sets them down, then picks up a pen as he looks over them.]
She's not a prisoner here.
[Daud, on the other hand? That's debatable. Right now, he's in no condition to go running around Dunwall.]
She's not a prisoner here.
[Daud, on the other hand? That's debatable. Right now, he's in no condition to go running around Dunwall.]
[ In the back of his mind, it occurs to Daud that the sight of Corvo Attano tending to paperwork is a strange one. Such work must be part - maybe most - of the man's daily routine, but it's nothing Daud's ever associated with him. Not after the way the met, the way Corvo came to hold meaning in his life.
He catches the implication of those words, Corvo's specification that Billie's no prisoner (which is good to hear; Billie shouldn't be kept or locked up anywhere, should always be free to go), his suggestion that Daud is something else.
Which wasn't what Daud had agreed on. (As if he can remember agreeing to anything at all. That memory's gone in the fire of fever and his narrowly avoided end. He might have agreed to anything at all. He doesn't like that idea.)
He makes himself keep his focus on Corvo, barely resists an urge to look down at his own clenched fist. ]
And I am.
He catches the implication of those words, Corvo's specification that Billie's no prisoner (which is good to hear; Billie shouldn't be kept or locked up anywhere, should always be free to go), his suggestion that Daud is something else.
Which wasn't what Daud had agreed on. (As if he can remember agreeing to anything at all. That memory's gone in the fire of fever and his narrowly avoided end. He might have agreed to anything at all. He doesn't like that idea.)
He makes himself keep his focus on Corvo, barely resists an urge to look down at his own clenched fist. ]
And I am.
[They way they met was much more violent, but that was many years ago. Now, Corvo remains royal protector, but he does much more than that. He coordinates many things pertaining to security around Dunwall Tower. After what happened all those years ago and then again when Delilah attacked, it became difficult to trust such work to anyone else. Not to mention many lives were lost during the assault, so everyone was pulling a little extra weight these days.]
Not exactly.
[Corvo dips his pen into the ink and adds his signature to a document.]
But I don't think you have the strength to leave. You won't get very far, anyway. You're still recovering, Daud.
Not exactly.
[Corvo dips his pen into the ink and adds his signature to a document.]
But I don't think you have the strength to leave. You won't get very far, anyway. You're still recovering, Daud.
[ He can't argue with that. Even remaining upright in this chair takes undue effort, and making it back to his room - if he can find it again - is liable to be a struggle. That's a concern for later, though. He can only manage one thing at a time (because he's ill, he tells himself; he hopes).
(Something that's been nagging at him since he awoke, since he first began exploring the halls: his connection with the Void feels... off. It'd been ragged since he first came into contact with the artifact, but now it's gone hollow. Quiet, maybe. He doesn't know what to make of that. It's another worry he doesn't have the energy to handle. Later, maybe. Later.)
He watches Corvo for a moment, considering his options, considering the familiarity of Corvo's speech, the truth of it. Consider the fact that he's here, alive at all. ]
I don't—
[ '—have any memory of coming here,' but he isn't going to say that. ]
What did you do to me.
[ It's the closest he can come to asking what happened. ]
(Something that's been nagging at him since he awoke, since he first began exploring the halls: his connection with the Void feels... off. It'd been ragged since he first came into contact with the artifact, but now it's gone hollow. Quiet, maybe. He doesn't know what to make of that. It's another worry he doesn't have the energy to handle. Later, maybe. Later.)
He watches Corvo for a moment, considering his options, considering the familiarity of Corvo's speech, the truth of it. Consider the fact that he's here, alive at all. ]
I don't—
[ '—have any memory of coming here,' but he isn't going to say that. ]
What did you do to me.
[ It's the closest he can come to asking what happened. ]
[Corvo smiles a sideways smile and shakes his head.]
I saved your life.
[What did he do? More than Corvo had to do. Probably more than Daud deserves after the things he's done.]
I brought you here. Saw that you had the best doctors. Cared for you. All so you can sit there and give me that sour look on your face.
[So much for appreciation. You're welcome, Daud.]
I saved your life.
[What did he do? More than Corvo had to do. Probably more than Daud deserves after the things he's done.]
I brought you here. Saw that you had the best doctors. Cared for you. All so you can sit there and give me that sour look on your face.
[So much for appreciation. You're welcome, Daud.]
[ That sour look twists just a little further before Daud glances away, sniffs. He can't deny the likelihood of what Corvo's said, given the staggering change in how he feels, given the fact that he was able to walk to this room, at all. (Given the fact that he's still breathing. Given the fact that he hadn't died on Billie's ship.)
What he can't work out is why. Or what he now owes this man (owes the Empress, maybe, for so much as permitting him to be here). He doesn't care for all of the uncertainties. He doesn't like what this means for his plans (are they still his plans? they must be, though at the moment they feel almost distant). He wishes Billie were here.
Folding his arms, Daud sinks back against the chair. It's half an attempt convey irritation, half a way of finding a position that takes less effort to maintain. ]
I'm sure you had your reasons.
[ Look, Corvo, he'll thank you when he feels a little less discombobulated and a lot less suspicious. Well. Maybe he'll thank you. Possibly. ]
What he can't work out is why. Or what he now owes this man (owes the Empress, maybe, for so much as permitting him to be here). He doesn't care for all of the uncertainties. He doesn't like what this means for his plans (are they still his plans? they must be, though at the moment they feel almost distant). He wishes Billie were here.
Folding his arms, Daud sinks back against the chair. It's half an attempt convey irritation, half a way of finding a position that takes less effort to maintain. ]
I'm sure you had your reasons.
[ Look, Corvo, he'll thank you when he feels a little less discombobulated and a lot less suspicious. Well. Maybe he'll thank you. Possibly. ]
What were my reasons for sparing your life all those years ago?
[Corvo can't really say for sure what his reasons were except that he wasn't willing to shed Daud's blood, even if he had plenty of reasons why he should do it.
Not everyone is after something. Some people just do things because they're the right thing to do. Corvo tries to be a good example, though his daughter is grown up now and makes up her own mind about things.]
[Corvo can't really say for sure what his reasons were except that he wasn't willing to shed Daud's blood, even if he had plenty of reasons why he should do it.
Not everyone is after something. Some people just do things because they're the right thing to do. Corvo tries to be a good example, though his daughter is grown up now and makes up her own mind about things.]
[ Corvo gets a pointed glance at that before Daud looks away again, not caring for the question, not caring for the way it leaves him feeling almost vulnerable. Because it's true, this is twice he has Corvo Attano to credit for his survival. And he can't say he understands or wants to understand the reason behind either instance. ]
I'm in no mood for riddles, Corvo.
[ To be fair, he's never in the mood for riddles. (And speaking of riddles, speaking of cryptic fucking bullshit, it occurs to Daud that a certain smirking bastard might be watching this, now. Is probably watching this, musing superior. 'Laugh while you can, you bastard,' but the thought's half-hearted, lacking fire. )]
I expect you had enough blood on your hands.
I'm in no mood for riddles, Corvo.
[ To be fair, he's never in the mood for riddles. (And speaking of riddles, speaking of cryptic fucking bullshit, it occurs to Daud that a certain smirking bastard might be watching this, now. Is probably watching this, musing superior. 'Laugh while you can, you bastard,' but the thought's half-hearted, lacking fire. )]
I expect you had enough blood on your hands.
It's a riddle I'm not sure I ever knew the answer to, Daud.
[In that moment, Corvo simply saw fit to spare Daud's life. Maybe after all of the missions he'd been on and seeing other ways of handling things, his thirst for revenge had been tempered. It's difficult to say why a man does what he does in an instant of such gravity as that moment was for the two of them.]
You may be right about that.
[And so here Daud was, in Corvo's company, still breathing, even though Daud was never supposed to come back.]
What will you do now?
[In that moment, Corvo simply saw fit to spare Daud's life. Maybe after all of the missions he'd been on and seeing other ways of handling things, his thirst for revenge had been tempered. It's difficult to say why a man does what he does in an instant of such gravity as that moment was for the two of them.]
You may be right about that.
[And so here Daud was, in Corvo's company, still breathing, even though Daud was never supposed to come back.]
What will you do now?
[ He'll accept the response without question. Much as he's wondered over Corvo's reasons, there's no point in digging that day up all over again. No point in searching for answers that can offer no real gain. ]
I haven't decided.
[ It's better than the 'None of your business' that almost reached voicing. It's easier to say than the closer truth, which is that he doesn't know, can't begin to know. He still has his mission - does he? - but his memory of what's been done and what remains is cluttered, unable to be sorted. Not that he's about to say as much to Corvo. (And what would he do, beyond that mission? If he had the time, now that he might have the time and opportunity? Go back to his efforts at escape, maybe. Do his best to fade away while still alive. It's nothing he wants to think about.) ]
I believe I have work left undone.
[ Spoken with more certainty than he feels. And there's a thought: if his health continues to improve, he may just be able to go after the Outsider himself. Leave Billie out of this... Only, no, he can't touched that damned blade. Can go with Billie, maybe, but still can't do this on his own.
It's aggravating. It isn't anything he wants (isn't, and it is). (Isn't anything Billie should be made to face.) Only it's necessary. Doesn't he believe that? He had believed it. Thinks he maybe still does. ]
Unless you intend to prevent me.
I haven't decided.
[ It's better than the 'None of your business' that almost reached voicing. It's easier to say than the closer truth, which is that he doesn't know, can't begin to know. He still has his mission - does he? - but his memory of what's been done and what remains is cluttered, unable to be sorted. Not that he's about to say as much to Corvo. (And what would he do, beyond that mission? If he had the time, now that he might have the time and opportunity? Go back to his efforts at escape, maybe. Do his best to fade away while still alive. It's nothing he wants to think about.) ]
I believe I have work left undone.
[ Spoken with more certainty than he feels. And there's a thought: if his health continues to improve, he may just be able to go after the Outsider himself. Leave Billie out of this... Only, no, he can't touched that damned blade. Can go with Billie, maybe, but still can't do this on his own.
It's aggravating. It isn't anything he wants (isn't, and it is). (Isn't anything Billie should be made to face.) Only it's necessary. Doesn't he believe that? He had believed it. Thinks he maybe still does. ]
Unless you intend to prevent me.
"I'm not interested in what you think I should know." There's a warning edge to his voice, though it's restrained, only the slightest ripple against nonchalance. It goes without saying that he understands those risks. (Understands, yes, but has he moved past bare understanding in this case? Has he listened to any of the warning bells this boy sets off? He shouldn't be standing here, but never mind that. He knows what he's doing. He knows.) He tells himself they don't weigh so heavily in this case. Tells himself the boy could be a Whaler worth the risk. (Only that's wrong, too. Daud's never been a man to take unnecessary risks. There's nothing that can justify this. Maybe. Maybe.)
"Every one of my assassins carries their past like a wound. Don't think you're the only risk I've taken."
It's so easy to say (never mind the warning twinge at the back of his neck). He speaks and holds himself with confidence. Never mind that there's a difference between a carefully calculated risk and a knowingly dangerous leap. Never mind that he has plenty of assassins as it is, that this new recruit is perhaps uncalled-for as well as potentially perilous.
"You'll be watched around the clock. Your actions monitored and reported to me. I don't intend to let you roam free until you've proven yourself."
"Every one of my assassins carries their past like a wound. Don't think you're the only risk I've taken."
It's so easy to say (never mind the warning twinge at the back of his neck). He speaks and holds himself with confidence. Never mind that there's a difference between a carefully calculated risk and a knowingly dangerous leap. Never mind that he has plenty of assassins as it is, that this new recruit is perhaps uncalled-for as well as potentially perilous.
"You'll be watched around the clock. Your actions monitored and reported to me. I don't intend to let you roam free until you've proven yourself."
| | The man is very matter of fact about the fact he wants him to join. Almost too much, as if he's somewhat trying to tell himself this is a good risk to take. But Oscar holds his tongue in front of the leader. After explaining he'll be watched, Oscar sees it even more as a sign he could be unsure. After all, why keep such a close watch on him? "I assume you do that to everyone that recently joins the fold?" The unspoken part hangs in the air: "Or is it because I'm a risk?" |
What Daud knows is that this boy ought to be a Whaler. That he has talent and nowhere else to take it. That whether or not a new recruit is necessary, he'll be a sign that Daud's still planning for the future of the gang. That everything isn't falling to pieces.
He also knows - is finding out all too well - that this boy's audacious, challenge after challenge written clearly in his voice. He appears to have no qualms against questioning the man who's offering work, the man whose name is known throughout the city, the man who could cut the boy's throat in an instant.
There's something admirable in that brazenness. (Something worrisome, as well. But Daud's gathered recruits with similar attitudes. But Oscar isn't the first to pose questions. And Daud would rather gather assassins-to-be who bear a mind of their own, who can think - but not act without need - beyond the bare instructions.)
"You assume correctly." There's a hint of a sneer, though his gaze remains unmoved. "And you're no unique case. We could use your talent, but we can also do without it.
"Your options are more limited." His voice is back to its level tone, the final statement more an observation than anything else.
He also knows - is finding out all too well - that this boy's audacious, challenge after challenge written clearly in his voice. He appears to have no qualms against questioning the man who's offering work, the man whose name is known throughout the city, the man who could cut the boy's throat in an instant.
There's something admirable in that brazenness. (Something worrisome, as well. But Daud's gathered recruits with similar attitudes. But Oscar isn't the first to pose questions. And Daud would rather gather assassins-to-be who bear a mind of their own, who can think - but not act without need - beyond the bare instructions.)
"You assume correctly." There's a hint of a sneer, though his gaze remains unmoved. "And you're no unique case. We could use your talent, but we can also do without it.
"Your options are more limited." His voice is back to its level tone, the final statement more an observation than anything else.
| | Admittedly he feels a bit (if foolishly) bold. Maybe dying in an alley with his throat slit by the assassin of Dunwall isn't a bad way to die. But he's not doing to go out merely accepting whatever he gives him. (Or maybe he's just feeling reckless. Thieves speak about him like a faceless destructive force of nature. He is not afraid of talking back to the Wolf of Dunwall. He's afraid of few things anymore.) But then he has to remind him of an obvious thing: he can't do what he's doing forever. And Oscar becomes a bit sheepish. "I know." How did he manage to get himself into this? |
There. There, at last, the boy's admitting to reason. Which suggests he isn't so foolhardy or frenzied as rumors - and as some of Daud's Whalers - would imply. (It doesn't suggest anything of the sort, really. It'd taken too long to coax the boy to this point. Had taken the unrelenting words of a master assassin to draw out a simple 'I know.' Well, so the boy's prideful. Fearless. It might not be ideal, but Daud can work with it. He tells himself.) Daud continues to watch Oscar for several long moments, letting the boy's admission hang in the air.
"Well."
What'll it be, boy?
"Well."
What'll it be, boy?
Shh shh shh... Let Daud pretend that there's solid reasoning behind what he's doing here. Let him pretend this isn't another in a line of ill-advised decisions, a sign of just how far the world is shaking beneath his feet.
"It isn't a pleasant one." Meaning that the choice is almost exclusively between agreeing to join and ending this conversation with a gaped wound to the throat. Meaning that there may be a chance the boy can escape without joining, but the choice is razor-thin, dependent on Daud's mood. "But you do.
"Are you opposed to the idea." Driven with a slight note of acridity, meaning 'does it disagree with your scruples.'
"It isn't a pleasant one." Meaning that the choice is almost exclusively between agreeing to join and ending this conversation with a gaped wound to the throat. Meaning that there may be a chance the boy can escape without joining, but the choice is razor-thin, dependent on Daud's mood. "But you do.
"Are you opposed to the idea." Driven with a slight note of acridity, meaning 'does it disagree with your scruples.'
You're no prisoner here, Daud. You just haven't the strength to leave yet.
[And Corvo is sure Daud will be stubborn as hell until the moment he does leave the Tower.]
Your work will probably kill you. I have a feeling that's what you want. Better to go out fighting, hm?
[Corvo can understand that feeling. He doesn't like the idea of wasting away as an old man, but that may be his fate due to the luxury he lives in.]
[And Corvo is sure Daud will be stubborn as hell until the moment he does leave the Tower.]
Your work will probably kill you. I have a feeling that's what you want. Better to go out fighting, hm?
[Corvo can understand that feeling. He doesn't like the idea of wasting away as an old man, but that may be his fate due to the luxury he lives in.]
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