Anicetus affords him a courteous departure and returns to his duties deflecting guests from Alfrig.
Dmitri can find a group of Morovsk nobles having themselves a somewhat muted laugh about a recent scandal to do with the Neilos family; they shift to make room for him in their circle, though a husband and wife do seem to tense with his arrival. He might recognize them as guests from his recent "dinner".
Dima favors the pair with a mild expression, a slight raising of his eyebrows. It isn't (it could be) a challenge; he considers it a recognition, an 'I know your thoughts; speak them as you please, and if you dare.'
(He isn't going to think about that particular dinner. Not far; not at the moment. And the two of them had better not have spoken what they saw into gossip. A warning he's certain Derzhena must have issued. A warning that, really, ought to have no need of being spoken.)
He nods to the group in general, letting conversation continue, taking notice of the speakers and their moods before deciding to speak.
<.>
[questions! q: what would dima know about the neilos scandal?
a: Probably nothing; in passing, it's superficial at best, and the Neilos family isn't one he would concern himself with.
q: over the next minute or two, does the convo around dima include anything else? PERC: 16 There's nothing particularly interesting here, but behind Dima, he catches a snatch of whispered conversation.
"-obscene he isn't here." "Probably humiliated with the old man fawning over -" "Shh." "Mm. I'm only saying, it's no wonder. You'd be fouled, too, if your father was sticking it to your best m-" "Both of you, shut it.”
Turning around, he'll see a group of servants clustered against the wall. One of them is resuming her position with a scowl; this was clearly the last speaker who ended the conversation.
q: what DOES seem to be the mood/tone/vibe/bearing of the people in the group? does anyone's mood/bearing stand out?
The general vibe of the group seems to be boredom and discomfort with the chill weather of Loch Bien. Morovsk is warmer and much more opulent (and wealthier), and this is something of a step down for all of them. They're ready to get this trip over with.
q: is there anyone here dima would know particularly well... or if not well, maybe would he know them better than the others?
He knows all of them relatively well, having grown up in the same circles. If he was ever prone to friendship, he might have called Vitaly Kozak a friend; in his own words, he probably calls him 'endurable' or 'not a complete shithead'.
Of the group, Magnus Bode is probably avoiding eye contact, having been one of Dima's 'conquests'.
Ruska and Yevhen Bohdana are the married couple.
Juliya Ruvim is the one he's least acquainted with, but he knows by reputation that she's particularly intelligent, not prone to scandal, and that her family is especially devout in their worship of Pelor.
q: since it was noted that there are fewer folks from morovsk than dima would have expected, is there anyone in particular he would have expected to see but now finds no trace of?
He probably didn't know specifics on who would be in attendance, but Taras Savenko and Nelya Kushnir are almost always in attendance at notable occasions like this. Neither appears to be present.
q: anything dima would know about them particularly, or should i shall i try find out as i go along?
I'm going to say Nelya is the sister of the 'gentleman' from Dima's beach and rose bad memory.]
<.>
He shouldn’t, really, have anticipated anything beyond idle gossip; more than three nobles to a group almost always ends in asininity, and Dmitri doesn’t have the patience to endure it very long. He lets another minute or two pass before nodding to the group and offering his congratulations for the successful completion of their arduous journey (thinking it’s odd, isn’t it, that certain notable members aren’t gathered in this cluster, and don’t appear to be present at all), with a more particular, “Ruska, Yevhen, you’re looking well.”
The glance he affords Vitaly Kozak is a clear signal to follow as Dmitri draws apart from the group. There may be words for others among them - for Ruvim, at least, who appears to hold some modicum of a brain - but just now, Kozak's likely to prove the most useful, and Dima is almost, almost just a little bit relieved to find the man in attendance.
He continues walking as he speaks, scanning the room, scarcely looking at Vitaly. "Did my sister send you."
<.>
Vitaly excuses himself from the group with some humor in his formality, then, catching up to Dima, in one graceful movement he grasps arm in arm with the other man and muses in low tones, "Did your sister send me. Across the country, to the bitterest ass-end of nowhere, to watch these Lochmen fawn over their sovereign’s, ahem, Champion?”
He gives Dima a look askance, pulls a face, and draws away to pluck a glass of wine from the table as they pass. "Deza couldn't compel me here for all the money, worry, and torture in the world."
Then, having taken a drink, he pauses with what appears to be epiphany. "Why? Did she send you?”
<.>
He.
Walked directly into that.
Set the tripwire without thinking about it, and the sour look that crosses Dima's face tells that yes, yes, in fact, Derzhena did send him.
Fuck's shitting name, he could use a drink of his own. And he beckons the hired servant to bring a glass of wine.
The tone of his voice verges at the edge of surly, though there's no irritation toward Kozak. "My presence was requested." By Derzhena. As she was ushering him from the city and pointing out how many excess and uncalled for duties she would need to cover in his absence. "We'll say I owe my sister a favor."
The servant approaches to present the wine, test a sip, and pass the glass to Dmitri before retreating once more. The drink smells— Not much at all to his liking, but it should serve well enough. Looking now at Vitaly, his expression composed once more, Dima raises the glass. "What did bring you to the burnt ass-end of nowhere? It can't have been the dazzled favor of the Champion's grin."
<.>
Vitaly watches the servant retreat with a thoughtful expression, then returns his attention to Dima. With a quirked smile, he clinks rim against rim, then drinks once more. At the question, however, his expression turns sober and he clears his throat. "You recall I was in Riversdown, trying to make some headway with plans for a more direct trade route? Stubborn bastards in the borderlands, all of them."
He continues carefully, "Let's say there was some trouble on the high road. Nothing fit to speak of in such fine company, if you get my drift."
He seems to be eyeing Anicetus - or, perhaps, the man speaking with him.
Exchanging his now-drained glass for a new one, Vitaly brightens. "Where are you staying? We'll visit tomorrow before they drag us to another of these - delightful gatherings.”
His tone turns chipper and near-fawning; it seems some noblemen have veered too close for his comfort in disparaging the gathering.
<.>
[q: does dima recognize the man speaking with anicetus rn? a: nope]
Briefly, Dima's eyes flash a sharp look of query, quelled quickly as Vitaly shifts his tone, as a group of noblemen walk past in their own subdued clamor. Dima watches after them as he nods, manages to keep his tone from falling flat as he nods, "Isn't it just." Just. Simply. Delightful.
The reference to Riversdown - and to the endless fucking headache of trade routes and the borderlands - cycles within Dima's thoughts as he lets his attention trace the room's expanse. He speaks in a murmur, "The gods know how I love and long to waste my days in milling about before a disinvolved lord.
"What for fuck's sake is the point.”
A restrained sigh, another sip of wine, and he returns his eyes to Kozak. "I don't know that I should recommend the inn; it's been struck with a plague of frogs. Something to do with the drinking water, apparently.” The minor shake of his head suggests that Dmitri knows very well what was at the heart of the frog incident, and that it had nothing to do with water.
Dima does, however, given the name of the inn, noting that while it isn't the nearest to what facsimile of luxury Di Loch Bien has to offer, it's proven suitable for conversation of all qualities. "If nothing else, I can guarantee a sealed room."
There are questions Dmitri wants to ask, names he'd like to raise, but those are best left silent for the moment. Instead, "Have you met the lauded Champion?"
<.>
It seems to surprise Vitaly to hear that Dima is in substandard accommodations. He begins to respond, perhaps even to question, but the redirect has him turning his head and snorting in a very ungentlemanly fashion.
"Him? Oh, I met him on the approach to Lord Alfrig. It seems his Champion believes the man's to be protected from everyone.” Relenting a little, "But, I'll give him this: he's an amiable one. Exactly what you'd expect from a home-grown hero. Oozes goodness and benevolence and possibly his Lordship's com-panionship’s best influence. Lucky indeed, that he should have risen to such esteem through his own heroic eff- oh, for fuck's sake, I hate it here."
<.>
He'd anticipated the querying look in Kozak's face, and feels no irritation against it. It's no well known fact that Dmitri, in his solitary expeditions, tends toward places less travelled by the nobility. It's an honest to gods boon during 'festivities' like this; if he has to endure irksome company through seeming-endless gatherings, he can at least keep his evenings in private.
(Well. Not entirely private this time around, but Faolan's company - even the company of the thieves - is a different story entirely, and Dima warms with the thought.) (When he's through here, he can return to Faolan, and spend the evening in his company. That's something to make this event endurable. It's a promise he can live on.)
There's a laugh - more a sharp-exhaled huff through Dima's nose - at Vitaly's minor outburst. "The clumsy subterfuge and over-mellowed pinot grigio isn't to your liking?
"Patience, Vitaly, patience; you'll be free of this place soon enough. ...Mm. You will be free of it eventually, in any case.
"And you have one up on me; I found myself intercepted before so much as approaching the ooze and his lord. Is it custom, do you think, to play the voyeur while your party stagnates before you?" Dima shakes his head. "Lord Alfrig will expire of sheer boredom at this rate, though I'm sure he'll pass amiably.
"From whence did he pluck this home-grown hero?" And why, for shit's sake, has anyone been called to 'marvel' at the spectacle.
<.>
Vitaly shrugs, because instead of focusing on Alfrig and Caddick, he is making a perception check against Dima's let's say deception.
[DEC, d: 15 PERC, v: 6]
Still, he thinks he saw something odd in Dima's expression; it could just be Dima thinking of murder, though. Per usual. He goes back to his wine and refocuses his attention on the Champion in question.
"From what I understand - mostly from the quartet of servants behind us - Sir Caddick was the bosom friend of Lord Alfrig's son. He may still be, for all I know. You pulled us away before I could eavesdrop further."
Vitaly turns and lays a gentle but firm hand on a passing servant's arm. "You there. What's your name, Son?"
"I - er - Peddyr, m'lord - I -" The boy motions feebly towards the Lady he's meant to be serving.
"Peddyr. That's a nice name, isn't it, Dima? And - yes, we see you! Blame me, not the boy! He'll be along with your wine just as soon as I've finished harassing him!" he calls back to the noblewoman, who huffs and turns away. "Now, Peddyr. Listen to me. Do you see this ring?"
He indicates a gold ring that he has just twisted from his finger; it seems he has Peddyr's attention now. The boy nods.
"Very good. This ring is yours if you bring us something stronger to drink just as quick as you can. Is there a good, strong whiskey somewhere hiding in this castle?"
The boy cuts a glance at Anicetus, then slowly nods.
"If you find it and bring it here for us, the ring is yours and whatever Lord Voronin here will contribute to your heroic quest. Go, go!"
<.>
The look Dmitri throws to Vitaly - eyebrows raised, head cocked - at once speaks an exasperated 'Really?' and a not-unamused acquiescence. Enduring this day - enduring this entire 'celebration' - is going to require drink with an honest bite to it. And Dima hasn't decided whether Alfrig's lackluster drink offerings is better termed an oversight or a slight. It's ill-managed, either way. And not particularly fair; by the looks of it, if Alfrig isn't deep into drink of his own, he's coasting high on something.
(Oh, that— A brief bit of high. Just one round, one cut; that wouldn't go amiss just now.)
(It absolutely would, or one hit's liable to slope toward mischance, and Dmitri knows better - mostly - than to entertain the possibility.)
(He hasn't touched any of it in a month. Hasn't so much as inquired about it. He—
Is not going to fucking think about that.)
He's begun to rub his thumb along his index finger, and Dmitri shakes his head. "Let's hope our little savior pulls through; this wine becomes more repugnant with each taste. It's a marvel, really."
And, after a glance toward Caddick and Alfrig, "Is that what they were rustling about? The cause behind the empty throne.
"It seems Lord Alfrig has developed a habit of replacing those nearest to him. His Advisor, his son—" A shrug, and Dima makes the mistake of taking another sip of wine. Gives himself a moment to let the taste pass, then, "Or perhaps he wants a man for all seasons."
<.>
Vitaly watches as the boy hurries to see to his primary duty, then vanishes out a side door of the hall. When he looks back at Dmitri, then follows his glance, he hums noncommittally. "You're assuming it's Alfrig who's doing the replacing. You and I both know a man under thrall will do a good many things -"
He laughs with faint chagrin, hearkening back to his wife's indiscretions.
There's a reason she lives in Novorometz, and he in Morovskgorod.
"Nevermind. Here, now, tell me why you're staying in some second rate inn? I've let a house for the month; come stay with me. At least when we aren't here, we'll have good company, and each of us can tell Deza we watched the other."
no subject
Dmitri can find a group of Morovsk nobles having themselves a somewhat muted laugh about a recent scandal to do with the Neilos family; they shift to make room for him in their circle, though a husband and wife do seem to tense with his arrival. He might recognize them as guests from his recent "dinner".
Dima favors the pair with a mild expression, a slight raising of his eyebrows. It isn't (it could be) a challenge; he considers it a recognition, an 'I know your thoughts; speak them as you please, and if you dare.'
(He isn't going to think about that particular dinner. Not far; not at the moment. And the two of them had better not have spoken what they saw into gossip. A warning he's certain Derzhena must have issued. A warning that, really, ought to have no need of being spoken.)
He nods to the group in general, letting conversation continue, taking notice of the speakers and their moods before deciding to speak.
<.>
[questions!
q: what would dima know about the neilos scandal?
a: Probably nothing; in passing, it's superficial at best, and the Neilos family isn't one he would concern himself with.
q: over the next minute or two, does the convo around dima include anything else?
PERC: 16
There's nothing particularly interesting here, but behind Dima, he catches a snatch of whispered conversation.
"-obscene he isn't here."
"Probably humiliated with the old man fawning over -"
"Shh."
"Mm. I'm only saying, it's no wonder. You'd be fouled, too, if your father was sticking it to your best m-"
"Both of you, shut it.”
Turning around, he'll see a group of servants clustered against the wall. One of them is resuming her position with a scowl; this was clearly the last speaker who ended the conversation.
q: what DOES seem to be the mood/tone/vibe/bearing of the people in the group? does anyone's mood/bearing stand out?
The general vibe of the group seems to be boredom and discomfort with the chill weather of Loch Bien. Morovsk is warmer and much more opulent (and wealthier), and this is something of a step down for all of them. They're ready to get this trip over with.
q: is there anyone here dima would know particularly well... or if not well, maybe would he know them better than the others?
He knows all of them relatively well, having grown up in the same circles. If he was ever prone to friendship, he might have called Vitaly Kozak a friend; in his own words, he probably calls him 'endurable' or 'not a complete shithead'.
Of the group, Magnus Bode is probably avoiding eye contact, having been one of Dima's 'conquests'.
Ruska and Yevhen Bohdana are the married couple.
Juliya Ruvim is the one he's least acquainted with, but he knows by reputation that she's particularly intelligent, not prone to scandal, and that her family is especially devout in their worship of Pelor.
q: since it was noted that there are fewer folks from morovsk than dima would have expected, is there anyone in particular he would have expected to see but now finds no trace of?
He probably didn't know specifics on who would be in attendance, but Taras Savenko and Nelya Kushnir are almost always in attendance at notable occasions like this. Neither appears to be present.
q: anything dima would know about them particularly, or should i shall i try find out as i go along?
I'm going to say Nelya is the sister of the 'gentleman' from Dima's beach and rose bad memory.]
<.>
He shouldn’t, really, have anticipated anything beyond idle gossip; more than three nobles to a group almost always ends in asininity, and Dmitri doesn’t have the patience to endure it very long. He lets another minute or two pass before nodding to the group and offering his congratulations for the successful completion of their arduous journey (thinking it’s odd, isn’t it, that certain notable members aren’t gathered in this cluster, and don’t appear to be present at all), with a more particular, “Ruska, Yevhen, you’re looking well.”
The glance he affords Vitaly Kozak is a clear signal to follow as Dmitri draws apart from the group. There may be words for others among them - for Ruvim, at least, who appears to hold some modicum of a brain - but just now, Kozak's likely to prove the most useful, and Dima is almost, almost just a little bit relieved to find the man in attendance.
He continues walking as he speaks, scanning the room, scarcely looking at Vitaly. "Did my sister send you."
<.>
Vitaly excuses himself from the group with some humor in his formality, then, catching up to Dima, in one graceful movement he grasps arm in arm with the other man and muses in low tones, "Did your sister send me. Across the country, to the bitterest ass-end of nowhere, to watch these Lochmen fawn over their sovereign’s, ahem, Champion?”
He gives Dima a look askance, pulls a face, and draws away to pluck a glass of wine from the table as they pass. "Deza couldn't compel me here for all the money, worry, and torture in the world."
Then, having taken a drink, he pauses with what appears to be epiphany. "Why? Did she send you?”
<.>
He.
Walked directly into that.
Set the tripwire without thinking about it, and the sour look that crosses Dima's face tells that yes, yes, in fact, Derzhena did send him.
Fuck's shitting name, he could use a drink of his own. And he beckons the hired servant to bring a glass of wine.
The tone of his voice verges at the edge of surly, though there's no irritation toward Kozak. "My presence was requested." By Derzhena. As she was ushering him from the city and pointing out how many excess and uncalled for duties she would need to cover in his absence. "We'll say I owe my sister a favor."
The servant approaches to present the wine, test a sip, and pass the glass to Dmitri before retreating once more. The drink smells— Not much at all to his liking, but it should serve well enough. Looking now at Vitaly, his expression composed once more, Dima raises the glass. "What did bring you to the burnt ass-end of nowhere? It can't have been the dazzled favor of the Champion's grin."
<.>
Vitaly watches the servant retreat with a thoughtful expression, then returns his attention to Dima. With a quirked smile, he clinks rim against rim, then drinks once more. At the question, however, his expression turns sober and he clears his throat. "You recall I was in Riversdown, trying to make some headway with plans for a more direct trade route? Stubborn bastards in the borderlands, all of them."
He continues carefully, "Let's say there was some trouble on the high road. Nothing fit to speak of in such fine company, if you get my drift."
He seems to be eyeing Anicetus - or, perhaps, the man speaking with him.
Exchanging his now-drained glass for a new one, Vitaly brightens. "Where are you staying? We'll visit tomorrow before they drag us to another of these - delightful gatherings.”
His tone turns chipper and near-fawning; it seems some noblemen have veered too close for his comfort in disparaging the gathering.
<.>
[q: does dima recognize the man speaking with anicetus rn?
a: nope]
Briefly, Dima's eyes flash a sharp look of query, quelled quickly as Vitaly shifts his tone, as a group of noblemen walk past in their own subdued clamor. Dima watches after them as he nods, manages to keep his tone from falling flat as he nods, "Isn't it just." Just. Simply. Delightful.
The reference to Riversdown - and to the endless fucking headache of trade routes and the borderlands - cycles within Dima's thoughts as he lets his attention trace the room's expanse. He speaks in a murmur, "The gods know how I love and long to waste my days in milling about before a disinvolved lord.
"What for fuck's sake is the point.”
A restrained sigh, another sip of wine, and he returns his eyes to Kozak. "I don't know that I should recommend the inn; it's been struck with a plague of frogs. Something to do with the drinking water, apparently.” The minor shake of his head suggests that Dmitri knows very well what was at the heart of the frog incident, and that it had nothing to do with water.
Dima does, however, given the name of the inn, noting that while it isn't the nearest to what facsimile of luxury Di Loch Bien has to offer, it's proven suitable for conversation of all qualities. "If nothing else, I can guarantee a sealed room."
There are questions Dmitri wants to ask, names he'd like to raise, but those are best left silent for the moment. Instead, "Have you met the lauded Champion?"
<.>
It seems to surprise Vitaly to hear that Dima is in substandard accommodations. He begins to respond, perhaps even to question, but the redirect has him turning his head and snorting in a very ungentlemanly fashion.
"Him? Oh, I met him on the approach to Lord Alfrig. It seems his Champion believes the man's to be protected from everyone.” Relenting a little, "But, I'll give him this: he's an amiable one. Exactly what you'd expect from a home-grown hero. Oozes goodness and benevolence and possibly his Lordship's com-panionship’s best influence. Lucky indeed, that he should have risen to such esteem through his own heroic eff- oh, for fuck's sake, I hate it here."
<.>
He'd anticipated the querying look in Kozak's face, and feels no irritation against it. It's no well known fact that Dmitri, in his solitary expeditions, tends toward places less travelled by the nobility. It's an honest to gods boon during 'festivities' like this; if he has to endure irksome company through seeming-endless gatherings, he can at least keep his evenings in private.
(Well. Not entirely private this time around, but Faolan's company - even the company of the thieves - is a different story entirely, and Dima warms with the thought.) (When he's through here, he can return to Faolan, and spend the evening in his company. That's something to make this event endurable. It's a promise he can live on.)
There's a laugh - more a sharp-exhaled huff through Dima's nose - at Vitaly's minor outburst. "The clumsy subterfuge and over-mellowed pinot grigio isn't to your liking?
"Patience, Vitaly, patience; you'll be free of this place soon enough. ...Mm. You will be free of it eventually, in any case.
"And you have one up on me; I found myself intercepted before so much as approaching the ooze and his lord. Is it custom, do you think, to play the voyeur while your party stagnates before you?" Dima shakes his head. "Lord Alfrig will expire of sheer boredom at this rate, though I'm sure he'll pass amiably.
"From whence did he pluck this home-grown hero?" And why, for shit's sake, has anyone been called to 'marvel' at the spectacle.
<.>
Vitaly shrugs, because instead of focusing on Alfrig and Caddick, he is making a perception check against Dima's let's say deception.
[DEC, d: 15
PERC, v: 6]
Still, he thinks he saw something odd in Dima's expression; it could just be Dima thinking of murder, though. Per usual. He goes back to his wine and refocuses his attention on the Champion in question.
"From what I understand - mostly from the quartet of servants behind us - Sir Caddick was the bosom friend of Lord Alfrig's son. He may still be, for all I know. You pulled us away before I could eavesdrop further."
Vitaly turns and lays a gentle but firm hand on a passing servant's arm. "You there. What's your name, Son?"
"I - er - Peddyr, m'lord - I -" The boy motions feebly towards the Lady he's meant to be serving.
"Peddyr. That's a nice name, isn't it, Dima? And - yes, we see you! Blame me, not the boy! He'll be along with your wine just as soon as I've finished harassing him!" he calls back to the noblewoman, who huffs and turns away. "Now, Peddyr. Listen to me. Do you see this ring?"
He indicates a gold ring that he has just twisted from his finger; it seems he has Peddyr's attention now. The boy nods.
"Very good. This ring is yours if you bring us something stronger to drink just as quick as you can. Is there a good, strong whiskey somewhere hiding in this castle?"
The boy cuts a glance at Anicetus, then slowly nods.
"If you find it and bring it here for us, the ring is yours and whatever Lord Voronin here will contribute to your heroic quest. Go, go!"
<.>
The look Dmitri throws to Vitaly - eyebrows raised, head cocked - at once speaks an exasperated 'Really?' and a not-unamused acquiescence. Enduring this day - enduring this entire 'celebration' - is going to require drink with an honest bite to it. And Dima hasn't decided whether Alfrig's lackluster drink offerings is better termed an oversight or a slight. It's ill-managed, either way. And not particularly fair; by the looks of it, if Alfrig isn't deep into drink of his own, he's coasting high on something.
(Oh, that— A brief bit of high. Just one round, one cut; that wouldn't go amiss just now.)
(It absolutely would, or one hit's liable to slope toward mischance, and Dmitri knows better - mostly - than to entertain the possibility.)
(He hasn't touched any of it in a month. Hasn't so much as inquired about it. He—
Is not going to fucking think about that.)
He's begun to rub his thumb along his index finger, and Dmitri shakes his head. "Let's hope our little savior pulls through; this wine becomes more repugnant with each taste. It's a marvel, really."
And, after a glance toward Caddick and Alfrig, "Is that what they were rustling about? The cause behind the empty throne.
"It seems Lord Alfrig has developed a habit of replacing those nearest to him. His Advisor, his son—" A shrug, and Dima makes the mistake of taking another sip of wine. Gives himself a moment to let the taste pass, then, "Or perhaps he wants a man for all seasons."
<.>
Vitaly watches as the boy hurries to see to his primary duty, then vanishes out a side door of the hall. When he looks back at Dmitri, then follows his glance, he hums noncommittally. "You're assuming it's Alfrig who's doing the replacing. You and I both know a man under thrall will do a good many things -"
He laughs with faint chagrin, hearkening back to his wife's indiscretions.
There's a reason she lives in Novorometz, and he in Morovskgorod.
"Nevermind. Here, now, tell me why you're staying in some second rate inn? I've let a house for the month; come stay with me. At least when we aren't here, we'll have good company, and each of us can tell Deza we watched the other."
<.>