Fic: Unquiet Ghosts
Jan. 11th, 2016 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beekeeperofedenGen.
Wordcount: 1627
Summary: Missing scene fic after the end of The Silent Blade. Dwahvel Tiggerwillies has some unfinished business with the assassin that's been haunting her.
This was the third night in a row that this had happened and Dwahvel was considering drastic measures.
The guard in front of her was new and young. That was why Dwahvel had assigned her to watch the roof. It was necessary, but not a likely angle of attack. And so the guard had been rather shaken when she had realized two nights ago that the human sitting cross-legged on the eave was the notorious assassin, Artemis Entreri. He had made no hostile actions, she had nervously informed him that he had to leave, and he had done so, only to return the following night. Once again, he had been told to leave and done so without a hint of intimidation. Sensing a pattern, Dwahvel had told her guard that if he reappeared tonight, that she should inform Dwahvel without disturbing the man.
And here she was. Brown eyes wide with worry, hand trembling as it rested on her crossbow.
"H-he's back."
"Thank you, Havira," Dwahvel said, smiling at her. "I'll go up and speak to him. Please don't disturb us unless given a reason to do so." Like if you hear me screaming, Dwahvel added in her head. She didn't need to say it aloud. This guard was new, but none of the people she hired were stupid.
Grabbing a flask of whiskey and a small glass vial from her desk, Dwahvel went out onto the roof. She paused outside the door to drink from the vial.
Entreri was perched on the edge of the roof. He hadn't drawn any weapons, and didn't look at her as she approached, though she had no doubt he'd noticed her. He looked contemplative.
This was the man who had killed her cousin and walked away with a smile on his face. It had been shamefully easy to rearrange her guild around Dondon's absence. That hurt, more than the death itself did. It shouldn't have been so easy to go on without him.
"Looking for ghosts, assassin?" she asked. No need to go looking. If you have ghosts, they'll find you. Trust me on this one.
He shrugged and looked at her.
"Are you going to send me away again?" he asked.
"Not yet." She took a sip of the whiskey. It left her lips numb. "Want some?"
He extended his hand. Dwahvel considered the risks, then decided that if he was going to kill her, he hardly needed to bother with this subterfuge. She walked close enough to gently toss the bottle to him. He snatched out of the air with a grin.
"Is it poisoned?" He asked, pausing with the bottle halfway raised to his mouth.
"Yes," she said. He nodded and took a long sip. Do you think I'm joking or do you just not care? she wondered.
They were both silent for a while. Dwahvel waited. She'd gotten some of her best information that way, by waiting for people who needed to speak do so. Finally Entreri took another sip of the whiskey with a grimace and spoke.
"It was necessary."
He didn't need to specify what 'it' was.
"Convince me." Dwahvel ventured close enough to steal the bottle and another sip, before handing it back. He looked at her curiously.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you as an enemy," she said. It was the only practical option, of course. More than that, a part of her wanted him to be right. If Dondon needed to die, she wouldn't have to feel so bad about not missing him.
"He was miserable." He said it dispassionately, like he was trying the taste of it in his mouth. Like he didn't believe it. Dwahvel's response came so quickly she barely thought about it.
"No, he wasn't." She had made sure of that.
"He was wasting his life." Slightly more convincing, but not by much.
"At least he had a life to waste."
"A life like that is not worth living."
"Why do you get to make that decision?" Decisions are made by those who survive, perhaps? It was a common enough philosophy on the Calimport streets.
"Because no one else made the decision or tried to stop me," he said.
"Would anyone have dared?" she asked. He studied her, grey eyes calm.
"You would, I think. If you had cared to."
Dwahvel looked away. Damn the man for being too perceptive, anyway. He looked out at the stars and took another sip of the whiskey.
"So is this conversation about my guilt or yours?" he finally asked. He blinked at the sound of his own voice. It was starting to slur. About damn time.
"I do not know yet," she admitted. Entreri's arm jerked. He was trying to stand up. "Don't try to move. You might fall off the roof and we're not done talking."
He glared at her. "You drank the antidote before coming to the roof."
"Yes." She shrugged. "I did tell you it was poisoned."
He laughed at that. It even sounded sincere. "I did not think a slow, painful death to be your style," he said.
"It isn't. You'll just be paralyzed for a little while. Not directly lethal." He glanced at the dagger on her belt.
"Will you kill me, then?" He sounded... resigned.
"I haven't decided."
"How long have you been thinking about this?" he asked.
"Since my guard told me she found you on the roof two nights ago. I wasn't sure if you would show up again."
"But I thought halflings cared not for revenge."
Dwahvel shrugged. "Revenge is a wasteful exercise. It's a lot of work for little gain."
"And what gain do you get from this, if not revenge?"
"Justice."
His laugh made it clear he didn't think there was a difference and Dwahvel was hard pressed to disagree with him.
"The reputation for killing Artemis Entreri, then."
"Do you intend to become an assassin? If not, that reputation will be little use to you."
Dwahvel frowned. "Peace of mind," she said.
"Killing me will not gain you that, I assure you."
"I won't know until I try."
"I've had occasion to test that theory, of late." He grimaced. "I would undo it if I could."
She didn't think he was talking about her cousin. "Why kill Dondon, then?"
The silence was only broken by the sounds of the city, of yelling and swearing and crashing from the streets below. Finally Entreri spoke.
"He seemed to be expecting it."
Of course he had been. Everyone in Calimport knew how very badly Artemis Entreri got along with wererats. And how badly he took betrayal. Before Dwahvel could put that into a question, Entreri kept talking.
"How could he have been expecting it, if not in hope?"
Dwahvel closed her mouth before her question could escape. Was it possible that Entreri hadn't known? Dondon had always been a name to her, but she hadn't really known him for long before he'd needed protection. When he became both threat and burden.
"You knew him before--" before he changed "--before I came to Calimport, then."
"Yes." A small smile. Fond memories, perhaps?
"Tell me," she said, leaning forward eagerly.
He stumbled on his words at first, describing the time that Dondon's information had accidentally led them both into a snake-fighting pit and they'd had to talk their way out or risk tipping off their mark. Dwahvel drank it in. This was how the dead ought to be remembered, after all.
The dead become the memories they leave behind. If someone never knew what Dondon had become, did that make it as if he hadn't ever changed? Perhaps. As an information and sometimes misinformation broker, Dwahvel knew perhaps better than anyone how illusion could shape reality. Would it be so bad to let this one stay?
Entreri's voice stopped, having run to the end of the thread of the story. Dwahvel smiled.
"You will be pleased to learn," she said. "That I have decided not to kill you."
"Are you sure?" he asked dryly. "I think I feel sensation coming back to my fingers." That she would not get a second opportunity was left unsaid. Dwahvel tapped her finger against her lips and pretended to consider it.
"...Are you sure it will not help?" she asked.
"No. But it did not help me." And under his breath "Even if he thinks it did."
The part of her that was constantly focused on the bloody politics of Calimport's streets perked up at the hint to Entreri's mysterious allies, but she doused it.
"Your recent occasion to test the theory?" she asked, echoing him. Entreri nodded, looking out at the city under the moonlight. Basadoni's guildhouse was somewhere in that direction, Dwahvel recalled.
"He thinks it worked. Thinks he's fixed me." His voice was heavy with disdain, venom... and hope? Dwahvel considered the use of the present tense. Apparently he hadn't killed this mysterious bearer of bad advice. Perhaps she wasn't the only one leaving illusions alive in hopes that they'd become real.
"I guess you'll have to fix yourself, then," she said. He smiled at that, the stars reflected in his eyes.
"Perhaps."
They sat in silence after that until the first hints of dawn warmed the sky. Entreri stood up then, stretching limbs that must have been cold and stiff.
"Will you be back to kill me?" Dwahvel asked, taking another sip of the whiskey. It had gone warm, but it seemed a shame to waste it.
Entreri smiled, didn't answer, and vanished into the new day.
Wordcount: 1627
Summary: Missing scene fic after the end of The Silent Blade. Dwahvel Tiggerwillies has some unfinished business with the assassin that's been haunting her.
This was the third night in a row that this had happened and Dwahvel was considering drastic measures.
The guard in front of her was new and young. That was why Dwahvel had assigned her to watch the roof. It was necessary, but not a likely angle of attack. And so the guard had been rather shaken when she had realized two nights ago that the human sitting cross-legged on the eave was the notorious assassin, Artemis Entreri. He had made no hostile actions, she had nervously informed him that he had to leave, and he had done so, only to return the following night. Once again, he had been told to leave and done so without a hint of intimidation. Sensing a pattern, Dwahvel had told her guard that if he reappeared tonight, that she should inform Dwahvel without disturbing the man.
And here she was. Brown eyes wide with worry, hand trembling as it rested on her crossbow.
"H-he's back."
"Thank you, Havira," Dwahvel said, smiling at her. "I'll go up and speak to him. Please don't disturb us unless given a reason to do so." Like if you hear me screaming, Dwahvel added in her head. She didn't need to say it aloud. This guard was new, but none of the people she hired were stupid.
Grabbing a flask of whiskey and a small glass vial from her desk, Dwahvel went out onto the roof. She paused outside the door to drink from the vial.
Entreri was perched on the edge of the roof. He hadn't drawn any weapons, and didn't look at her as she approached, though she had no doubt he'd noticed her. He looked contemplative.
This was the man who had killed her cousin and walked away with a smile on his face. It had been shamefully easy to rearrange her guild around Dondon's absence. That hurt, more than the death itself did. It shouldn't have been so easy to go on without him.
"Looking for ghosts, assassin?" she asked. No need to go looking. If you have ghosts, they'll find you. Trust me on this one.
He shrugged and looked at her.
"Are you going to send me away again?" he asked.
"Not yet." She took a sip of the whiskey. It left her lips numb. "Want some?"
He extended his hand. Dwahvel considered the risks, then decided that if he was going to kill her, he hardly needed to bother with this subterfuge. She walked close enough to gently toss the bottle to him. He snatched out of the air with a grin.
"Is it poisoned?" He asked, pausing with the bottle halfway raised to his mouth.
"Yes," she said. He nodded and took a long sip. Do you think I'm joking or do you just not care? she wondered.
They were both silent for a while. Dwahvel waited. She'd gotten some of her best information that way, by waiting for people who needed to speak do so. Finally Entreri took another sip of the whiskey with a grimace and spoke.
"It was necessary."
He didn't need to specify what 'it' was.
"Convince me." Dwahvel ventured close enough to steal the bottle and another sip, before handing it back. He looked at her curiously.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you as an enemy," she said. It was the only practical option, of course. More than that, a part of her wanted him to be right. If Dondon needed to die, she wouldn't have to feel so bad about not missing him.
"He was miserable." He said it dispassionately, like he was trying the taste of it in his mouth. Like he didn't believe it. Dwahvel's response came so quickly she barely thought about it.
"No, he wasn't." She had made sure of that.
"He was wasting his life." Slightly more convincing, but not by much.
"At least he had a life to waste."
"A life like that is not worth living."
"Why do you get to make that decision?" Decisions are made by those who survive, perhaps? It was a common enough philosophy on the Calimport streets.
"Because no one else made the decision or tried to stop me," he said.
"Would anyone have dared?" she asked. He studied her, grey eyes calm.
"You would, I think. If you had cared to."
Dwahvel looked away. Damn the man for being too perceptive, anyway. He looked out at the stars and took another sip of the whiskey.
"So is this conversation about my guilt or yours?" he finally asked. He blinked at the sound of his own voice. It was starting to slur. About damn time.
"I do not know yet," she admitted. Entreri's arm jerked. He was trying to stand up. "Don't try to move. You might fall off the roof and we're not done talking."
He glared at her. "You drank the antidote before coming to the roof."
"Yes." She shrugged. "I did tell you it was poisoned."
He laughed at that. It even sounded sincere. "I did not think a slow, painful death to be your style," he said.
"It isn't. You'll just be paralyzed for a little while. Not directly lethal." He glanced at the dagger on her belt.
"Will you kill me, then?" He sounded... resigned.
"I haven't decided."
"How long have you been thinking about this?" he asked.
"Since my guard told me she found you on the roof two nights ago. I wasn't sure if you would show up again."
"But I thought halflings cared not for revenge."
Dwahvel shrugged. "Revenge is a wasteful exercise. It's a lot of work for little gain."
"And what gain do you get from this, if not revenge?"
"Justice."
His laugh made it clear he didn't think there was a difference and Dwahvel was hard pressed to disagree with him.
"The reputation for killing Artemis Entreri, then."
"Do you intend to become an assassin? If not, that reputation will be little use to you."
Dwahvel frowned. "Peace of mind," she said.
"Killing me will not gain you that, I assure you."
"I won't know until I try."
"I've had occasion to test that theory, of late." He grimaced. "I would undo it if I could."
She didn't think he was talking about her cousin. "Why kill Dondon, then?"
The silence was only broken by the sounds of the city, of yelling and swearing and crashing from the streets below. Finally Entreri spoke.
"He seemed to be expecting it."
Of course he had been. Everyone in Calimport knew how very badly Artemis Entreri got along with wererats. And how badly he took betrayal. Before Dwahvel could put that into a question, Entreri kept talking.
"How could he have been expecting it, if not in hope?"
Dwahvel closed her mouth before her question could escape. Was it possible that Entreri hadn't known? Dondon had always been a name to her, but she hadn't really known him for long before he'd needed protection. When he became both threat and burden.
"You knew him before--" before he changed "--before I came to Calimport, then."
"Yes." A small smile. Fond memories, perhaps?
"Tell me," she said, leaning forward eagerly.
He stumbled on his words at first, describing the time that Dondon's information had accidentally led them both into a snake-fighting pit and they'd had to talk their way out or risk tipping off their mark. Dwahvel drank it in. This was how the dead ought to be remembered, after all.
The dead become the memories they leave behind. If someone never knew what Dondon had become, did that make it as if he hadn't ever changed? Perhaps. As an information and sometimes misinformation broker, Dwahvel knew perhaps better than anyone how illusion could shape reality. Would it be so bad to let this one stay?
Entreri's voice stopped, having run to the end of the thread of the story. Dwahvel smiled.
"You will be pleased to learn," she said. "That I have decided not to kill you."
"Are you sure?" he asked dryly. "I think I feel sensation coming back to my fingers." That she would not get a second opportunity was left unsaid. Dwahvel tapped her finger against her lips and pretended to consider it.
"...Are you sure it will not help?" she asked.
"No. But it did not help me." And under his breath "Even if he thinks it did."
The part of her that was constantly focused on the bloody politics of Calimport's streets perked up at the hint to Entreri's mysterious allies, but she doused it.
"Your recent occasion to test the theory?" she asked, echoing him. Entreri nodded, looking out at the city under the moonlight. Basadoni's guildhouse was somewhere in that direction, Dwahvel recalled.
"He thinks it worked. Thinks he's fixed me." His voice was heavy with disdain, venom... and hope? Dwahvel considered the use of the present tense. Apparently he hadn't killed this mysterious bearer of bad advice. Perhaps she wasn't the only one leaving illusions alive in hopes that they'd become real.
"I guess you'll have to fix yourself, then," she said. He smiled at that, the stars reflected in his eyes.
"Perhaps."
They sat in silence after that until the first hints of dawn warmed the sky. Entreri stood up then, stretching limbs that must have been cold and stiff.
"Will you be back to kill me?" Dwahvel asked, taking another sip of the whiskey. It had gone warm, but it seemed a shame to waste it.
Entreri smiled, didn't answer, and vanished into the new day.