Who: Alecto Carrow & Isabela When: February 25th Where: The Hanged Man What: Alecto talks to Isabela about Remus asking her to move in Rating/Warnings: Low/Maybe the swearing and maybe the mentions of dream killing shenanigans Status: Complete when posted
To say Alecto had been freaking out was probably putting it mildly. Actually, it was definitely putting it mildly. She’d spent about an hour pacing her room before she decided to leave and talk to Isabela. She knew that her living situation at the moment wasn’t permanent. It was an in between. Remus’ proposal that she move in with him was probably the best way to go about it, really. Except that she was panicking about it. She’d never lived with anyone but Remus (and Rebekah) before. In fact, she’d never had a boyfriend, so moving in felt like a huge step. Almost like jumping feet first into quicksand. She was pretty sure that she was going to sink and probably die from drowning in sand...or her own relationship.
Okay, so she was probably overreacting.
Definitely overreacting.
So she walked downstairs. At least there was alcohol downstairs. Now she just had to find Isabela...or her boobs. Alecto might have identified her a couple of times by them. It was clearly something mates did. Or something. Finding her behind the bar, Alecto sat down. “I need at least two drinks. Whatever is strongest. Only maybe not anything that will kill me.” A pause. “But if it’s really strong, maybe just one. Or half of one. I don’t know. I just know I’m sober and it’s weird.”
Ooh, alright then! Didn’t take a genius to deduce that something was going on here but, luckily, Alecto had come to the right place - because Isabela was a fountain of both wisdom and strong drinks. How could you not trust a rogue whose ‘work uniform’ consisted of a skimpy tank top with a skull and crossbones that had the ‘pi’ symbol followed by the letters -rate (get it?) and a pair of skintight, ass-hugging jeans?
“Trust me, it’s strong,” she grinned, uncorking a bottle that she’d pulled from the deepest, darkest corner of the shelf behind the bar. Dark glass and unmarked, you knew it had to be dangerous. Even just removing the top had the fumes of some kind of substance that could strip paint off the walls wafting away from the bottle. “It’s called Dragon Piss. In Thedas, no one knows if it’s figurative or literal, but that doesn’t stop them from drinking it anyway.”
Came from the cellar in Skyhold, in fact, a gift from Max. Let’s just say Bela didn’t pour much of it. Now, she poured a shot’s worth. “What’s the matter, kitten? Your brother being an uptight prick again?”
For once her feelings had nothing to do with Amycus, though she was going to have to tell him about this, too. She’d figure out how to tackle that when she got there. She didn’t want to worry about that now because she was too sober. Maybe she could text him about it afterwards.
“Well, it’s probably no different than using dragon parts for potions,” she said after a moment. Another thing she was going to have to figure out. Alecto felt the panic rising. So she decided to down the drink, her nose wrinkling a little after the fact. That was pretty awful, but she had survived worse things in her life. Probably.
“Amycus is safe for now,” she said quietly. “No, this time Remus asked me to move in with him. Oh...and I might need to learn how to competently make potions.” Because she was dating a werewolf. A werewolf that needed a potion not to kill people. She wondered if any of the others were any better at potions. “I don’t even know what I need for it.” She frowned. “It’s for his moon troubles.” Because could everyone in here be trusted to know things? Well, she didn’t know. Then again, if they were drunk, she couldn’t really count on them to remember anything, but who knew.
“I’m pretty sure I’m defective. I’ve had people talk to me about how amazing this is supposed to be, but...pretty sure he’ll figure out it was a mistake eventually.” She shrugged, trying to look and sound as casual as possible.
The way Alecto talked, it was like she had six weeks to live or some shite like that - so dour and depressed about the progression of her relationship! Isabela supposed she understood, though. After all, she’d been in Alecto’s shoes before. It took her years, in Thedas, to get her vast amount of issues under control and realise that maybe, just maybe, it was alright to take a chance on love after all.
“Have you talked to Max before?” she asked, tilting her head a bit and studying the girl thoughtfully. “Trevelyan. The Inquisitor. He’s something of a potions person, perhaps he can help you. As for the other stuff - “
She went and poured herself something delicious, mixing with hands that moved fast as lightning - dark rum with some homemade ginger beer, and a dash of lime juice. It was technically called a Dark N’Stormy but Bela would simply call it her brew for now. “Just stop and think about if it’s what you really want, don’t listen to other people telling you how amazing anything is. If it’s what you want, then go for it. If you’re not ready, then the dwarf’s room is yours for a bit longer. But trust me, love, you’re not defective,” Bela shook her head, laughing a bit, “When we dreamed, I never moved in with Hawke. I valued my independence too much. Being apprehensive about it is normal.” She probably should have moved in, but even so - Thedas wasn’t the best place to play house, Kirkwall especially.
Alecto was known for being overdramatic. She wouldn’t have said it about herself, but it was just the way she was. Things that weren’t as serious ended up more serious and things that were serious ended up a little less somehow. She hadn’t taken her dreams all that seriously at first, but the more dark the outlook got, the less she was laughing at them. She was concerned about how Amycus was going to deal with them more than how she was going to deal with them. She was good at drinking problems away. Excellent at it, really. That or disappearing into a never-ending crime drama binge.
“I think once? He was trying to convince me to talk about my feelings.” Her nose wrinkled and she stuck her tongue out. He wouldn’t be the first person, though. “Or offering to let me. Something like that.” Still, Alecto wasn’t really the sort to sit in a room and talk about her issues without there being alcohol involved and even then, she wasn’t really into the idea. Very few people got her to be honest about it. “But I guess I could talk to him about potions. I don’t know what sort of difference there is between us. I guess I could just be there for the wand waving part.” She could probably handle that much.
“Amycus did it once and she was crazy. Like super crazy.” Also his ex-wife hadn’t liked her, which only proved that she had terrible taste. Awful taste, even. “But I guess all my reasons are...me related.” It had nothing to do with Remus, because she liked Remus. She really liked Remus. “I never even had a relationship in the dreams. But then I was also crazy and following a guy that called himself Lord Voldemort, so I guess there’s that to consider. The Dark Lord this. The Dark Lord that. All I cared about.” And Amycus, but she figured that was a given. “Caring is weird. Not bad weird, but weird.”
“I’d say you’ve still got the emotional maturity of plankton, love,” Isabela pointed out, with a wink - hey, just being honest. That’s what friends did for each other! “But the good news is, you’re not Amycus, you’re also not obsessed with anyone named Voldemort, and you’ve got a fellow who cares about you - don’t let him go, yeah? Build a life here, you both have a chance to do it. And it’d be stupid to pass it up because you’re afraid of where it could go.”
Her advice tended to be all blunt force trauma and subtle as a brick to the head. It was simply the way the Queen of the Eastern Seas was, and yet her heart was in the right place. Most of the time. Sometimes it wasn’t; no one was perfect, alas.
Not an issue here in the current situation - Bela valued her friendship with this Hogwarts school marm. She sipped her drink, smiling crookedly over the edge of the glass. “I don’t think mages from Thedas use much in the way of wands, but they have staffs or whatever - anyway, it might just be talking theory. Maker forbid you talk about how you feel about something. Except with me. I’ll keep it a secret.”
She saw what you did there, Alecto. Caring is weird counted as a discussion of how she felt about something, aha.
Alecto shrugged. There was exactly no arguing with that statement because she was aware of it herself. Amycus was better at feelings. At least it always seemed that way. Better at romantic feelings anyway. Remus happened because she liked the way he blushed and got flustered every time she hit on him. Somewhere along the way, she stumbled into something new and now it was...well, now she had a boyfriend for the first time. But that didn’t mean she was good at emotions.
There was a small nod, a hint of admission. “He’s the worst, really. Voldemort. And if I was Amycus, I’d be the responsible twin. I’m not very good at that, which is why it’s his lot.” She’d also have children and Alecto was pretty damn certain that her and children were a bad idea. She was pretty okay with auntly duties, but motherly? Ha. No one should let her do that. Ever. Merlin save the child.
“It had better only be about potions. Except I am pretty awful at them, too.” She forced her body language and expression into something more nonchalant, attempting to make it seem like she wasn’t awkward about the fact that she actually talked to people about things. “Well, you know. You could tell, but then I’d have to kill you. It sounds messy.”
The poor thing, twitching so much about talking. Isabela would give her a bit of a break. Maybe. “I’m far too brilliant and useful to kill,” she said. “You never know when you might need a dirty rogue someday, hm?”
Her skills were very helpful. Besides, having a pirate on your side didn’t hurt either. But she switched the subject, sort of, so Alecto wouldn’t go cross-eyed. This was all just logistics, mind you. “So when’s the big day, you moving into his place?” she wanted to know, leaning against the bartop. “Need any help transporting stuff, or have you got it covered?”
Alecto looked like she was considering it. Was this true? Who could say. Probably, though. Not that she really would kill someone here. She was trying to stay away from that whole thing now. That didn’t mean she’d be squeaky clean, but at least she wouldn’t have killed anyone. Unless they tried to kill her first. That was protecting herself.
“Not positive on the day, but I can ask.” They hadn’t really set a date, she’d just agreed to it. Which surprised her. He’d seemed pretty excited about it, though. “Well, we do have magic on our side. You can shrink things and put everything into a place or just make a trunk have super endless space and feel like it has nothing in it. Basically, we’re amazing. We’d be any movers dream team. Maybe I should start charging money to move things. Only we can’t do that with just anyone and it sounds boring.”
Having a day in mind would probably be best, despite the penchant for miniaturising furniture. That way Isabela wouldn’t be surprised at seeing Alecto on the second floor one minute and then oops, the next she was gone. “That is quite handy,” she laughed, tipping her head back to get the last drops in her glass - so she drank on the job sometimes, what of it? It was partly her tavern anyway.
“I hope you’ll still come back and visit me sometimes though, kitten.” Now she pouted a bit, taking a page from her cheery friend’s book with the overdramatics. “I’d miss you if you didn’t pop ‘round to be all gloomy and turtle-shell about emotions and all that rubbish.”
Straight from her mouth to the Maker’s ears! No fooling here either.
Once she was sure, she’d make sure that Isabela knew. She’d probably make a decision that allowed for a little advanced notice anyway. It wasn’t like she’d up and leave in the middle of the night. She might have done that with someone else, but she considered Isabela to be a friend...even if she’d never really made an actual acknowledgement of that sentiment. “Pretty much. I’m a regular Mary Poppins. Only without the nanny part of the equation.” No one should leave her with children. Unless they were her nieces.
Alecto gave her a small smile. “You’re stuck with me. So you should probably get used to that.” She shrugged. “I have a limited number of people who put up with me willingly.” Her fingers traced a pattern on the bar. “And I kind of like helping out here, too. So I can still do that if you want.”
“Well, of course you can still help out here,” Bela waved her hand, as if dismissing any silliness like, say, refusing to let Alecto through the door. The Hanged Man was pretty much a family-run business anyway, with the pirate queen and her husband and his brother and sister; therefore, as far as Isabela was concerned, close friends who enjoyed and found solace in the place were more than welcome to contribute.
Besides, she had so few close friends she considered them family of a sort anyway - and if Alecto’s twin was being shitty, just look to a rogue with a great love for big boats to step into the family role. “In fact, you can come help out now,” she grinned mischievously. “We need to whip up some poutine gravy for the evening crowd.” People just loved their rich, decadent, fried potatoes with equally decadent gravy and melted cheese. It was all made on-site here too, none of that microwaved stuff.
She’d actually talked to Amycus recently and they hadn’t fought. She’d disagreed with how he was handling the magic part of his dreams, but she’d pushed it all down because she hadn’t wanted to fight about it. She couldn’t imagine how he would react when he saw the rest of it. If he already didn’t want to use it now, he’d never want to use it after. She didn’t know what that would do. Hopefully nothing bad.
Alecto stared at Isabela for a long moment before picking herself up off her seat. “These people probably bathe in gravy.” She was less terrible at cooking than she was when she first started off. She was pretty sure she wasn’t in danger of killing anyone now. “I wouldn’t be surprised if people would bathe in gravy if someone told them it would make them younger longer or something else ridiculous.” She made a mental note to tell someone in her parents’ circle about it and see what happened. “But okay. Let’s get these people some gravy.”