maskormenace

[He wanted time to familiarize himself with this place. He needed to know if anyone else from the Inquisition had been brought across as well, and then to find them if they had. But first, he'd looked through the information they'd given him - the neat print on the strange white paper - and now, suddenly, Maxwell had a much more immediate, personal worry.

The video opens on his face; his expression a mixture of incredulity and concern.]

Hello. [It feels awkward, addressing nothing, but he pushes on.] My name is Maxwell and I have a question, and there doesn't seem to be anyone else to ask.

[The camera turns and fixes on a portion of the pages he'd been given. He points to a section, chases a sentence with his fingertip as he reads it aloud.] 'Bears will always find him.' [Then the feed swings back to him.]

Why would anyone want this? How many bears do you even have in this place, to hope to make this useful? And do they just-- roam about?[He glances away, as if one might have suddenly sneaked up on him, then back.] Are these abilities negotiable in any way?

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[ Oh. Miles brightens a bit at that term, clearly recognizing it. ]

The Fade? Ah, do you perhaps know the Inquisitor, then? Or one of his companions?

[Maxwell blinks. His heart skips. He tells himself not to hope... and does it anyway.]

You could say that. I am the Inquisitor. Maxwell Trevelyan.

Do you know them? The others, are they here?

[ Wait. Hold up. Miles abruptly looks at him like he's gone insane. ]

Lavellan. Inquisitor Lavellan, an elf with rather bright red hair.

[ You, sir, are clearly neither of those things. ]

[It's so far removed from anything he expected all he can do is stare. Silent. For several long heartbeats, waiting for the man to tell him it was joke maybe - heartless, but ultimately harmless... but no. It did not come.

Slowly, he raises his left hand into view, and there is his proof. The Anchor, slashed across his palm.

I am the Inquisitor.

[ Not a joke at all. And neither is that mark he sees upon the other man's palm. Miles' eyes go wide as he clearly recognizes the mark, having seen it on Lavellan's many times before. ]

What in the world is going on?

[His hand hung there for several more moments, as if he'd forgotten it. Eventually it drops, as slow as the shake of his head.]

I don't-- I know no Lavellan. No one ever-- [And why would they? It had been him, was him, they'd pulled from the Temple rubble. There had been no one else for them to know.]

Where is he? We should-- He should be here. I should talk to him.

[How, he could even begin to imagine.]

[ At that, Miles just shakes his head slowly. Maxwell's comment makes him realize something that must be the truth: somehow, the man (elf?) that Miles knew has been replaced by an alternate. He's seen people come back with no memories of this place, but to come back as a different person entirely...

Miles shivers slightly. This is a new horror, even for this place. And surely it is no less horrifying for the man in front of him as it is for Miles, so he must not make this worse for Maxwell. ]

No, he's been gone for some time. We were close friends.

[Maxwell is again caught off guard. To have something like this presented and then taken back just as quickly. What could he do? What could he say? He had no answers, no explanations. He wasn't even a mage. Maybe if he were Dorian, or Solas....

He swallows. Takes a breath.]

I'm sorry, for your loss. If I cause any... [He trails off. How did he apologize for being what he was? ~~He swore he never would again~~.]

[ Miles takes a deep breath of his own. ]

No, no. It's been quite some time since he left. And in any case, it's an entirely unfair burden for me to lay at a new imPort's feet.

[He makes a sound. Something that might have been a laugh if it weren't so strangled up in his throat.]

Well... I imagine you were caught off guard as well. So, all's fair.

You did startle me, yes. As I did you.

[ All right Miles, pull it together. ]

Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.

It's not necessary. [Assuring, or trying to be, as he always did, even as his mind was swirling. Inquisitor Trevelyan: This Shit is Weird.] But I think I would like that.

That is half the point. Not being necessary, I mean.

[ But he nods, pleased to have his invitation be accepted. ]

[A beat.]

Thank you, Mr.... [Then a blink.] I just realized, I don't know your name.

[ Miles gives him a short little bow over the feed. ]

Miles. Lord Ambassador Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, to be long about it, but I prefer Miles.

[Cassandra's face swims to the forefront of his mind, and the sudden loneliness intensifies.]

Miles it is, then.

I'm in-- Nonah? [It means little to him, but he trusts Miles will know and where to find him.] When it suits you.

[ Ha. Miles is not at all like Cassandra, no. More of a Varric, in more ways than one.

Anyway, his smile warms. ]

So you're in my town to boot. The ambassador's office is downtown, so just stop by sometime.

Small favors.

[He manages a small smile, a twitch of one corner of his lips.]

I will.

Good. I look forward to it.

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