(121-03-07) There Will Be Blood
There Will Be Blood
Summary: Katya seeks Viggo after the events of the ball and the announcement. She finds a bitter man.
Date: 08/03/2014
Related: Follows the Events of: A Black Masque, Fire and Circumstance, Anger Unspent.
Players:
Katya..Viggo..

The horses are being prepared and the room is half ransacked with the packing mostly completed at this point. Kevyn has had their preparations to ride well in hand by the time Viggo arrives. The Cockshaw has stripped himself of his masquerade costume, leaving the fabric rent and torn in the process. He sits at the edge of the bed, numb fingers lacing his boots and his sword at his side. The curve of the blade dividing the bed, still seated in its shealth, like a line that ought not be crossed.

Katya knocks briskly, but more or less lets herself in, at least to the suite's sitting room without. "Viggo?" She's discarded her mask and with the gown alone it's impossible to guess what her costume might have been. I haven't bothered to decide so we're just going to leave it that way. In any event she looks to have rushed over, mud splattering her hem, gloves in hand as she tugs them off. "I just heard the news. Are you going at once?"

Although little time has passed this the annoucement, the pain of the news is etched in Viggo's features. His dark eyes are unnaturally bleak, without light and deepened by the shadow in the room, candle light catching an unsmilingly mouth. Blinking her looks at her for a moment as if not recognizing her before he greets, "Katya." His voice is hoarse, possibly from cry. Hands pull tight at the laces of the boots suddenly, as if reminded of where he needs to be. "Yes. At once. Laurent rides with me, possibly others." He rubs his beard with unease. "We left a letter with Lord Hightower."

"I would join you," she says, crossing the room to take a seat beside him, "If I did not think it would distract too greatly from your purpose. I wish that I could." She plucks at a sleeve, a bit of feathery embroidery around the cuff, worrying at it with a nail. "Is there anything I can do that would be of assistance? Here, in Highgarden, at your home?"

At her approach, Viggo loosely collects his sword to brace it against the floor with the pommel leaned against his knee. His fingers worrying the well known edges anxiously, gaze directed downward. "I do not think I would wish it of you, I find…grief makes a man what he does not recognize," he says with some bitterness. "And I do not know what we will find." He is silent a time at her offer. His dark eyes lifting slowly, regarding her with such seriousness as rarely touches his featuers. A land lifts, brushing a lock of hair back from her features with surprising delicacy for a man so slowly burning with grief and rage. "Listen and gather allies as you can, your Maiden house has granted us their aide. Perhaps that will be enough, but I know not who we will find." He swallows, fingers brushing the tip of her ear as he settles the lock. "Only that I will make them bleed."

Katya lifts her hand to catch Viggo's where it lingers near her ear, drawing it away from her face but keeping hold, her fingers clasped around his. "You will," she assures him, a grave light in her eyes. "Whoever they are, you will. I only wish that I could as well. But I will do what I can here, to gather you allies, and if any here have knowledge of this, I will find it out. If it was the Dornish surely some of their kin here must know something or will soon. And if it were not them, even more likely."

Viggo's jaw clenchs slightly as Katya draws his hand away from her face, lowing his hand even as she holds into it. He does not smile, although their is a twitch of his mouth as if he might wish to but cannot manage it. "My thanks, my Lady," he says instead of what is on his mind. "You might — your cousin, mind them and him. The Dornish. We should not burn bridges so swiftly without seeing what is left in ash." He swallows. "If it is them, Iwill light the torches myself."

"Lady Emilia and I have been friendly," Katya replies, "I will speak with her first, she may be an asset in this." Her mouth tips into a crooked smile, "Not many would manage to be so thoughtful in such a time, I think," she says, a thread of humor in her voice but not a joke precisely. "It is surprisingly impressive of you." His hand is squeezed, and then she nods. "I will tread carefully. Let me know what you find."

"Ser Quillian saw her escorted home for her safety from the ball," Viggo recalls distantly. "The Lady Emilia, that is." He shakes his head at his sense of humor, finding nothing of worthwhile note in it. "If I do not stay calm, I cannot promise my actions," he says simply. It is not so impressive. Giving her hand a squeeze in turn, he releases as he rises from the bed. Gentle hands are swiftly occupied, moving to secure his blade at his waist.

Katya nods. "Likely wise of him. If it does seem there's any chance it may have been the Dornish, keep a close eye on him. He's liable to go on a rampage given half a chance." Viggo rises and so does she a moment later. "I should leave you to your preparations. I'd hate to delay you." She folds her hand before her and then reaches out to pat his shoulder and give it a squeeze, momentarily awkward.

For the first time since they spoke, Viggo smiles if darkly. "I believe I will be at his side, Katya." There is more than a little menace to his words, a flash of edge to his expression. "I am simply to ride. Your worry for me is the first balm of the night," he says, rough voice soft. The hand extended to touch his shoulder is intercepted, lifted to his mouth so that he might give a brief kiss to the back of it. "Be well." He lets go of her hand swiftly as he moved to claim it, collecting his hat from where it hung fon the back of the chair.

Katya's smile is faint as his is grim, "Careful, you will tempt me to disguise myself and come along after all." Whether to keep him in line or join in the massacring isn't quite clear. The smile tugs at a corner of her lips again as he lifts her hand, and she adjusts his hat once it's on his head, angling it just slightly. "There, now you're ready. Ride hard. Be well."

Viggo dips his grim smile, acknowleding her threat of accompaniment. He will speak of it more. There is just a hint, faint in the curve of his moustache as she reaches up to adjust his feathered hat to the correct angle. "Thank you. I will," he says, voice gentling as he looks at her fair features. Dipping in a short, sharp bow with little fuss he bids her farewell, preceeding her out of the room.

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