Malik was neither desperate, nor was his house, the house of Vrai, that high up on the social chain to need the services the Blind Eye normally offered, but the night had him restless; the curse eating at his cold exterior just a bit too much to be comfortable being still. Gambling was not something he enjoyed, but keeping appearances was something that every Vint knew was important, and with the barrier now down, the Blind Eye was a perfect place for clandestine meetings to take place, for smuggled goods and drugs to change hands. He’d never been privy to anything drawing Eyes to the establishment, but if he were going to find a place to trade contraband, it would be here, Malik noted as he finally made his way into the den of inequity.
Several scantily clad dancers caught his eye, his bare face unmasked yet still masked as no emotion passed over his features. Malik was there as a Vrai, the last male heir of a lesser family, but still a male heir that had every reason in the world to be, at least, interested in the debauchery that could be afforded in such a place. A coin rolled across his knuckles as he walked the floor, his customary black working leathers instead replaced with a deep green silken robe, his long hair swept back from his face, but left long for the evening out. He passed a gaming table, the casual look at the playing pieces raising a brow slightly. There happened to be a noble leaving with nothing left to his name before the evening was done, Mal was sure of it.
He had no want to gamble. His fortune, what little left there was, was reserved for his half sister’s dowry. He would find her a good marriage, ensure that she at least would live comfortably in his absence as head of household, and then he would be able to sink completely into his service to something more than himself, even if that was the dishonest reasoning why. He felt no kinship to his half sister, her blood held no curse, so it was more the name that held him beholden.
No, Ella was more sister than his half-sister, and his loyalty was to her. He had half expected to find her wife wandering such a place, as flamboyant as the woman was, but thankfully it seemed that she had calmed some after her incarceration. So gambling would not be the vice to fill the gaping maw that opened in the curse’s hunger, he knew that games of chance, were never in the better’s favor, but the house. He could ill afford having a spinster charge for the rest of his life.
Drawing close to a bar, he ordered a drink, a darker skinned dancer catching his eyes for more than just a few seconds as she walked across the floor, before his face returned to it’s normal disinterested stare, a drink set in front of him, which he took a mouthful of as he signaled to open a tab, before going and finding a seat to watch the show, gold coin still rolling over knuckles as he folded himself into the couch, dark eyes taking everything in. He made sure that he looked open to being joined, if someone joined him it would be a good opportunity to gather some intelligence he might not otherwise have.
It was a slow evening, simmering away like a thousand others before it. Quintilian watched the floor from the second floor balcony, eye catching in a crimson waistcoat and trousers. There had been a jacket at some point, abandoned due to the heat of an early summer night.
Ideally, this was how every night should go. Efficient. The tidy extraction of wealth beneath a gauzy sheen of pleasure, flowing into neat categories in his mind. Operating costs, a tithe to the literal Eyes so that they didn’t find a reason to shut this place down. A goodly portion to House Pavus for the power of that diminished-but-still-significant name. Enough left to see he’d never be caught like in Kirkwall again. Oh, but it was just so boring sometimes.
At first, the money had meant something. Safety most of all. In Tevinter you needed at least two of three: strong magic, astronomical wealth, a powerful family. Quinn could now check off the first two. Marriage would be the only cure for the last – and Marcher expats did not rate highly among the local noble ladies. No matter.
The longer Quinn watched, the more one of tonight’s guests began to stand out to him. A tall man, curiously blank in affect, barely partaking. That wasn’t itself unusual, bodyguards were very common where the powerful came to play and lose their heads.
Except this man was dressed too fine to be a bodyguard. Quinn headed downstairs to introduce himself, stopping by the bar for an expensive bottle of magically enhanced blue wine. He sat down at the other end of the couch, setting the bottle and two glasses down on the low table.
“I guess I don’t know everyone after all. Please, share a drink with me. On the house.”
A brow rose slightly as the gold piece that had been rolling over his knuckled stopped, the bit of metal disappearing into a clenched fist as he noticed the blue wine and a new face -- this was unexpected. Malik had supposed a woman would try him at some point, he had dressed down as much as possible, but the robe afforded him the ability to vanish into a crowd, or to ditch it and vanish into the dark entirely. But it was one of the very few items he had left before his time under Valentius' tutelage and care. One of the few items that truly belonged to him, and thus, when he went out into the town, he liked to carry himself as his own person -- not as his official title or the well made expensive robes said title gave him.
What he hadn't expected was the person approaching him that evening would be a man, and a man that was wholly pleasing to Mal's own eyes, having taken male lovers in the past, they didn't pose a risk to him fathering a child. Unfortunately, Malik had his fair share of admirers and would be paramours in the Palace, he didn't have want for catching them outside the palace as well -- depending on the next words, he might have to make an exit for the night, but, no. Owner, or at least comfortable enough to be offering libations as if they owned the place. Do you make it a habit of knowing everyone in the City?
It was a simple enough question, and one that would give him the next few clues as to who he was speaking with, even if he did already have some idea of who. I can't imagine that to be an easy task, even if one had someone feeding them whispered information from the side lines. He sat forward, the leg that had been crossed over the other, returning his booted foot to the floor. He didn't need the owner noticing the outline of a dagger through the supple leather.
“Ahh. The whole city? Not at all. I would not presume.” Odd, a touch scathing in these opening moves. The stranger had few obvious tells at first glance, only that coin which he’d been busy playing with. Quinn watched it freeze and vanish, smiling a little as he employed a touch of telekinesis to pop the cork out of the bottle.
Surface thoughts gave only a little more away. Curiosity; a brush of sexual attraction though the latter was so swiftly dismissed that he almost missed it. That was interesting. Quinn wasn’t in the business of encouraging self discipline – or self denial. And while his own tastes leaned primarily toward women, there were certain illusions to be maintained for the wealthy of Minrathous.
Primarily, that anything within these walls could be won. It would be rather hypocritical to exclude his own person from that. Unfair to the girls.
“Consider me only very good at spotting patterns.” Quinn filled the glasses and drank from his, leaning back with one arm along the top of the couch. ”And you seem … Out of sequence, Serrah.
“Whatever you’re looking for tonight, I can help you find it.”
Ability hits the mark where presumption overshoots and diffidence falls short. I would have amazed had you been able to make such a claim. The smile this time was a little more sincere, trying to make up a bit for the rudeness he just displayed. He wasn't usually rude, but tonight he was a bit on edge, inside, the hunger within him begging for satisfaction, even if he would leave it wanting and unfulfilled. A useful, and well sought after skill, Ser. I'm told that patterns can predict the future, do you find this so? He ignored the remark about being out of sequence. He was, after all. He had to get out of the palace, the walls had been closing in, in such proximity to Seraphine -- and that woman would be the death of him before too long.
Malik leaned forward and took one of the glasses left behind, his eyes closing as he lifted the drink and smelled the bouquet after a good swirl of the glass. He was rude, but not uncultured, and knew how to appreciate the wine he was presented. It would be easy for him to secure, his official title would give him that, but his personal title, family head, of a disgraced family no less, would never allow him to have such a vintage. The magic it held, making the inside of his nose tickle even, the scent receptors there delighting in the magical additions. The drink he took was enough to fill the mouth, and savor, nodding gently at the taste, how easy the wine slid over the tongue. Tasty, the magic added?
He looked away, at the suggestion he was there looking for something. He was, of course, a distraction, and Quinn was giving him one, the hunger felt more lax, less at the forefront of his thoughts, and the small taste of wine allowed him to ease some. It was good, and the color, the almost electric blue of it was a novelty that made the corner of his mouth twitch slightly into a smile. Distractions mostly. I'm... ever so bored trying to secure a decent enough match for my younger sister. Do you have family, Ser..? Malik trailed off, waiting for the other man to supply a name for him.
“Mm. I’ll have to find other means to impress, then.” There was something odd about this man, just on the edge of Quinn’s perception. Magic that read bruise-black and purple, an iron tang on the back of one’s throat. No question that he was a powerful mage in that one discipline, but perhaps a bit of a dabbler elsewhere.
Finally, the presence of a desire demon, a mental impression rather like taking a bite of overripe fruit. Intense sweetness, but off putting in texture. Did that explain the carefully banked hunger he sensed? Quinn shook his head, clearing his mind. Demons were somewhat outside his expertise – only that the Blind Eye was crafted to prey on vices, just as they were.
“I do.” It would not do to say too much more in that regard. Quinn’s visions and luck had saved his life many times over, but he preferred to keep his magical talents under wraps if he could help it. It made it ever so funny when a seer or mind mage tried to cheat beneath this roof.
“Ah, I believe it's a special production from House Felinus. Bottled to commemorate Archon Arvina’s ascension. I hear they water the grapes with lyrium infused water in the weeks leading up to harvest.” Supposedly, this led to some mild alterations in mood in those who could afford to overindulge. Relaxation, mild euphoria. Quinn rarely allowed himself more than a single glass when entertaining a guest like this. He wanted his mind sharp – and the guest’s somewhat less so.
“Back in Antiva, perhaps.” Quintilian shrugged, as though the matter were now inconsequential. For the most part, it was. He hadn’t seen his birth family since childhood. “I naturalized some years ago and cut all my ties to the south. The Circles there are – were, I suppose – disagreeable. Frey is a House of one.” He bowed his head for a matter of seconds and spread his hands, then broke that faux humility with a grin that showed teeth.
Searching for a match for a sister, hm. Then the other man was indeed some species of lordling. Quinn’s ears pricked up as he thought about it, tasting that it was true. He drew his legs up onto the couch and turned to face the other man.
“I could put the word about for you, Lord …? If you'd prefer gentlemen callers to offer themselves up at your estate. Or, if we were friends, I might even let you know if any on your shortlist are in debt to me.” Quinn paused to drain his glass, bending to put the glass back down.
“Otherwise, if we’re not to be friends, there will be a show in a little while. You’ll find cards and games aplenty on this floor and the next.”
I'm sure you will, Malik purred back almost immediately to the older man, dark eyes regarding his face, taking in each bit of it as he finally flicked his eyes away, the coin back and rolling over his fingers once again. A nervous habit? Did he even have those, one could only find out, since Malik himself didn't exactly know if he did or not -- he'd never been in a situation in which he needed to avail himself of knowing if he gave any tells -- he rarely had to bluff anything. The short answer though, had him nodding, Mm, I see you relish not giving your secrets away, a man after my own heart then.
The smile that graced his face was true, even as he looked out over the crowd gathered for the evening time. He most likely was being studied, read, trying to suss out if there was a vice or an excess within him that could be catered to. But Malik was sure that the man wouldn't be able to slake the thirst he had for a certain Salvo's blood. That would be too perfect, but Malik also knew enough that he should keep up appearances, as he too placed the glass back on the table after he had downed the rest, finding that he rather liked the almost sedative affect it was starting to give the longer it was in his system. It didn't sink him into the chair like some wines did, the heaviness of limbs, no, this left him feeling fine, if just more relaxed.
Not a vintage he would return to, but he would send a thank you gift to the man in the morning for introducing him to the drink -- and once the townhome was set up and secured properly, perhaps he would invite the man over for evening drinks while discussing this list he may have of which of Tevinter's bachelors were in gaming debt. That in itself was a valuable piece of information, and not one he would casually set aside -- both for his personal purpose and what it might be worth to have for some of his.. extracurricular activities. Vrai, I'm afraid you'll find I'm a very minor house, and climbing back from disgrace at that. But my sister is still in need of a husband, and I would be a fool not to accept an offer of friendship, and secure an alliance to give her the best possible match. I don't like the idea of her suffering for my past crimes.
That was honest at least, as honest as he would be this evening. Everything he had said was true, but it wasn't the whole of it. I'll understand if you feel your time wasted, Master Frey, and promise no offence will be taken if you wish to excuse yourself from my company. A smile ghosted his lips, as if he was prepared for Quinn to vanish the moment he could -- it was a reaction many had to Malik once they learned that he often couldn't give them what they sought, or in some cases, refused to. He was still only a minor Lord, through out it all. But if you would like to stay, perhaps you'd indulge me with somewhere more quite.
“What use do we have for hearts?” Quinn’s smile had a touch of challenge in it – and some bitterness besides. Beth was gone again, as quickly as she had reappeared. No whispered threat nor amount of coin could bring him any news of her destination or fate. Unusual that there had been no trail to follow. She’d never had a deft hand for subterfuge before.
He had decided to stop looking. In fact, this would be a wonderful time to indulge just ever so slightly past his usual one glass limit. Quinn poured himself a little more wine and offered to refill Vrai’s glass as well. There, the bottle would not be wasted.
Vrai. The name was utterly unfamiliar though it wouldn’t stay that way for long. A new guest would set the staff to gossiping if nothing else. Quinn’s curiosity was certainly piqued. Disgrace followed by his crimes. Whatever the family misfortune, clearly the lordling before him felt responsible to some degree.
Unfortunately, digging into old trauma would be entirely at cross-purposes with his current agenda, whether it was done verbally or magically.
“That might be a hard sell. We will need to think carefully.” Quinn brushed his thumb along his chin, finding his eye drawn back to the coin skimming Lord Vrai’s knuckles. Was the coin special, or just like any other aurum? He looked back to Vrai’s face, meeting his dark gaze.
“Is she clever? A powerful mage? Rich– Or as pretty as her brother?” He shrugged off the suggestion that he could leave. Obviously, he could. But it was a quiet night, and though Vrai perhaps had no interest in the Blind Eye’s typical offerings …
The lordling was not without weaknesses to exploit. A lot repressed and a little lonely, Quinn would wager. Lucky for Vrai, curiosity drove him more than malice.
“My office is very quiet, if you’d like to come up.” Quinn made to stand, abandoning his half-empty glass on the table.
Malik couldn't stop the bark of laughter that left him, when Quinn went to think about his words, something about the way it was said, a 'hard sell', had tickled at something in him that made the whole thing seem... he let the thought slip from his head, as easily as it had formed, before it had fully formed into something he could take action on. He kept having to remind himself that he was here for pleasure tonight, reconnaissance at best, at worst a drink to excess and post-coital clarity that having one's balls drained could offer sort of evening. He shouldn't have come, he had almost decided, when Quinn continued.
Clever no, she'll make a good wife to someone who won't mistreat her, and will allow her to fill her days with leisure, crafts, and babies. Mage, yes, middling. Her dowry is enough to make someone of the lower middle into the higher of the middle.. spoken plainly, it would be much better to secure her a love match, but I have doubts that will happen. Her beauty though? His thoughts drifted to Seraphine for just a moment, but solidly enough that if a mind mage had chose that moment to scan his mind, one would most certainly would not have missed the woman in his mind's eye. There is only one else that I'd hold above her.
His brow raised as Quinn moved to get up, not catching the intent at first, before realization dawned on him, and he had to make a decision very quickly -- to follow and perhaps be more than he bargained for in the evening, or decline, and lose the chance on learning more about the man. Something inside him made the choice for him though, whether it be the demon that possessed him, the hunger that made his eyes slide once again over Quinn's jaw line, or simple curiosity as to how far he could go with the man -- be that into securing an alliance, a marriage, or a simple night of pleasure, that was still in the air. Malik's tongue darted out of his mouth, wet his lips, and then a hand went to stop the other man, gentle, careful not to touch him, but enough to stop. Are you certain? A man's reputation can only suffer so many fools before it's irreparable.
Oh, that was ever so slightly disappointing: that the girl had only middling power, a middling dowry, and middling aspirations to go with her disgraced family name. At least she was, apparently, a great beauty – but such a shame about her mind. Of course, many of the Blind Eye’s clients might hear such a tale and claim a dull wit was actually a boon. Smart women were harder to manage – and certainly more likely to oppose their partner’s drinking and gambling in a place such as this. A clear flaw in his sample size, damn. For himself, cleverness was the most important thing.
Someone beautiful and stupid would bore him almost immediately. He knew that much from experience. If he’d harbored any personal curiosity regarding Lady Vrai, it flickered out.
“Very well. We shall do what we can.” Privately, Quinn had his doubts. Love matches were rare among the great houses of Minrathous – and perhaps everywhere – if only because noble young ladies had few socially acceptable ways to meet young men. He did not truly believe such a thing could be teased out of his books. And yet …
What was the harm in trying? Only that he might waste the young Lord Vrai’s time. From where he stood, Lord Vrai could stand to have some of his time wasted. Quinn watched Vrai’s face, a sudden smile flashing his white teeth at that almost touch. He froze in place, as he was bid.
“I am. A whisper of disrepute may ruin a lady – but I find it is not so for gentlemen.” Quinn’s eyes followed that flash of crimson tongue, pupils blown wide and dark. He leaned in slowly, close enough to kiss. Lord Vrai was on the edge of making his decision, and Quinn felt it was important that he arrive at it naturally, with no further magical influence. People always felt better that way, after. Less apt to feel the hook set, less likely to look back and wonder.
