(2022-11-15) Friends in Low Places (Crimson Coterie)

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Author:	inkie
Summary:	Lord Gethennis Jadelight of the Kirin Tor enlists an old friend for a new venture.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

Arc: Crimson Coterie

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Suggestive content

The approach to the second-story apartment in Orgrimmar's Drag is a narrow alley staircase littered with trash. The door at the top of the stairs is ajar. The space inside is one low-ceilinged, cave-like room; near the door, a pair of orc women sit at a brazier, both staring blearily into the flames. Neither reacts to anyone's approach. At the back of the room, several heaps of furs make up a clutter of beds on the floor. The air is dense and eye-watering with some sort of sweet and pungent smoke, ghost of a source other than the brazier.

Kas Duskwing, former Farstrider, is standing over a grimy washbasin near the bed-pile, gripping the basin's edges and gazing one-eyed into the murky water within. He is shirtless and barefoot, his long, silver-streaked black hair raked back damply into a loose twist at the back of his neck.

Lord Gethennis Jadelight of the Kirin Tor sweeps into the room, dressed in an unusual (for him) color combination of deep sable brown and gold-edged blue. He presses a lace-edged handkerchief to his nose, his long-lashed eyes squinting with distaste, but as he approaches Kas from behind he removes it to say in a voice like slightly rumpled silk, "For fuck's sake, Kas.” Sweeping his gaze around the room, Geth abruptly begins to pull off his sexy fingerless gloves and replace them with a pair that provides a bit more coverage. And possibly waterproofing and antibacterial magic.

Kas straightens up wearily and turns to squint over his shoulder at Lord Gethennis Jadelight of the Kirin Tor. He sweeps Geth with an assessing look from his lone eye; the other is hidden behind a patch, a radiant web of silvery scar tissue visible from beneath. He raises an expressive eyebrow, turns back to the basin, and splashes his face perhaps inadvisably with the unwholesome-looking water before straightening again and turning fully toward Geth.

Geth visibly winces at the face-splashing. "I didn't want to believe the nice Tauren who kept pointing in this direction, but here you are."

"Morning. Morning?" Kas squints past Geth at the open doorway and wipes the back of one wrist across his mouth. He focuses on Geth again and makes a two-handed, slightly ironic flourish at himself: ta-da!

"It's half past four."

Kas nods thoughtfully. "Afternoon."

Geth pulls another handkerchief from a pocket of his robe and flourishes it; the fabric visibly dampens, then drips slightly onto the floor. He hands it to Kas; it's as warm as though he'd just pulled it from inside his own body somewhere. "Please use this to wash off whatever that substance was you were attempting to wash your face with." Geth is speaking Thalassian; he clearly has no intention of sharing his thoughts with the zombified orcs nearby.

Kas accepts the handkerchief. He considers it for a moment, nods, and wipes his face off. He wipes his neck and chest for good measure, and then considers the handkerchief again: does it vanish now? Is it self-cleaning? He gives Geth a questioning look.

Geth takes the handkerchief back from Kas, then makes it disappear. Genuinely and arcanely, but with a series of flourishes that makes it look as though it were sleight of hand. As one might to entertain a child.

Kas blinks and watches the handkerchief vanish. As a child might, if said child were mute and hungover.

"You look an absolute fright. You really must stop trying to keep up with me in the hedonism department; you are clearly not built for it." Geth begins to rummage around the very fashionable bag slung over his shoulder. It is clearly bigger on the inside, judging by the sounds of its shifting contents.

Kas smiles faintly and turns away again. He steps toward one of the nearby floor-beds and stoops to collect boots and a shirt before returning to Geth. He still moves with something of a quel’dorei ranger's silent, prowling grace, but a slower, stiffer version. As if, you know, the ranger were really hungover.

"I brought you a muffin. They didn't have pumpkin. No one has pumpkin anymore. You'll have to make do with blueberry." Geth draws a paper-wrapped, vaguely spherical object out of the bag, and unwraps it. It is moist and fresh, and he waves it toward Kas in an attempt to entice.

Kas winces, turning faintly greenish in the thin light. He tilts his head to one side in a curt gesture that might mean hang on, and pulls his shirt on over his head. This feat accomplished, he hesitates and then reaches reluctantly for the muffin.

Geth watches him pull his shirt over his head, his face a transparent display of mingled appreciation and concern, then hands him the muffin, watching him with sharply attentive sea-green eyes.

Kas lifts the muffin and inhales its scent, then turns half away from Geth as if to shield from his view. He has a small, cautious bite, chews, swallows. A moment later, the rest of the muffin vanishes in some feral, half-starved flurry.

He straightens again with dignity, wipes his crumb-hand on the front of his shirt, and bends to pull his boots on.

"That's a good boy," Geth purrs. "Now let's get you out of here. Even in this hellhole, there are better places to chat than here."

Kas looks around and raises his eyebrow again. Is this a hellhole? Huh. He shrugs an agreeable shoulder at Geth.

The two orc women by the brazier have reacted to none of this, and continue to not react.

"Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to go? Back to Silvermoon? Thunder Bluff for some fresh air? Or if you wish to steep yourself in fetid misery, I could take you to Stonard, or Shattrath's Lower City? I draw the line at Undercity, however."

After a moment's consideration, Kas suggests, "Shattrath."

"Very well." Geth pulls a portal stone from the same pocket the hankie came from, and rolls it over his palm and fingertips in a peculiar, theatrical way before setting it alight with arcane energy and ripping a shimmering elf-sized slit in reality next to the pair of them. "Come along, then."

One of the orc women actually lifts her head and blinks as the two elves step through the shimmer and vanish.

On Shattrath’s Terrace of Light, Geth steps through the rent in space as casually as one might through a silk curtain. "Where to from here, my bedraggled friend?"

Kas winces and casts a flat look over his shoulder at the naaru. He shrugs at Geth. "Lo–wer City?"

"Of course. Of course you would." Geth reaches out to rearrange a strand of Kas's hair, then sighs and drops his hand with an expression that suggests it is a Futile Endeavor.

Kas ducks absently away from the gesture as a small child might, and heads outside for the ramp.

"Why are you like this?"

Kas considers the question with a twitch of amusement. "Low character," he suggests. He stops at the foot of the ramp and considers, then heads toward the reagent and arcane vendors.

"The absolute lowest. You appall me, darling. So, shall we head to the tavern, or perhaps just find some mud to roll around in?"

Kas halts. "Tavern. Mud later." He waggles his brow at Geth. He turns around and heads now in the opposite direction, toward the tavern.

"Oh my. Cheeky little brat." Geth smiles affectionately.

Kas sucks his teeth and waves a hand as though at a buzzing gnat.

"So, do you know what I think you need, you incorrigable ruffian? I think you need direction. I've noticed that when you have a purpose, you actually… wash, and so on. The effect is very pleasing."

"I wash," Kas says, and then looks down at himself. "Most of the time."

"Yes, but your grasp of 'most of the time' — and time in general — seems to be slipping alarmingly as of late."

Kas does not dispute this point as he drops into a chair and sprawls across it with impressive limberness. He raises a hand lazily at the barmaid to summon her over. "What direction?"

Geth lets his heavy-lidded gaze travel over the Sprawl for a moment before turning his attention toward the approaching barmaid. He addresses Kas while smiling at her. “Well, I do have a few ideas. Do you know Elowel Aro'ephel? Fencing champion? Actress? Heiress and so on?" he prompts helpfully.

Kas, who had drawn a breath as if to address the barmaid, is distracted. He turns to raise that eyebrow s l o w l y at Geth. "Yeah. Know of."

"I'll have a glass of Dalaran red, and he'll have water. Very, very clean water."

Kas scowls. He gathers himself from his sprawl to sit upright and face Geth at the table, planting his elbows. But he does not argue.

Geth gives a crisp little nod as if to say, That's right. Then he continues. "Well, dear El happens to be a dear friend of mine, and she has just found herself in charge of a mercenary company."

Kas shakes his head and slaps the surface of the table in a conclusory fashion before sitting back again. He points at the patch that conceals his missing eye.

"Oh, cry me a river, darling. With whatever tear ducts you may have left. Everyone who's ever been within fifty yards of you knows that you can shoot better with one eye missing than most of us could with four extra. Plus don't you have a… bird or something you can sic on people?" Geth waves his hand vaguely. Ugh, birds.

Kas narrows his lone eye disapprovingly.

"I distinctly remember you posing picturesquely with some sort of bird of prey on your shoulder. Or did I dream that?"

"Shai," Kas says. "Yes."

"I think you and Sigh could be a marvelous asset to the Coterie."

Kas shrugs irritably. "Not really — Elowel's type."

"I'm not asking you to marry her. She's looking for all sorts to do the work. Trolls even. Can you be more charming than a troll? I think you can if you try your very, very best."

"Depends on the troll."

"It's easy work mostly, and you know she's absolutely loaded. She'll overpay you terribly I'm sure."

Kas drums his fingers speculatively.

"You could get an actual place to sleep besides alleys and other people's beds, and perhaps… multiple shirts and so on."

"I have mul–tiple shirts," Kas protests, and plucks at the fabric of the one he's wearing. He furrows his brow, his expression going thoughtful. Does he?

The barmaid comes back with water and wine. She puts them in the wrong places. Geth switches them. Not the glasses. The contents. Showoff.

Kas gives Geth a really? look, but for just a split-second there was a gleam of delight there.

Geth's eyes soften briefly before he puts on his usual blase' manner again. "I think you and El would get along famously, actually. She loves pretty boys but hates being hit on. She loves to talk, you love to not-talk."

Kas snorts. "Pretty." He shakes his head, picks up his water, takes a sip and grimaces: oh, shit, that's water. Then he chugs the rest of it in three gulps.

"My, my," says Geth appreciatively, watching the gulping. "Someone was thirsty," he says. Thirstily.

Kas settles back into his sprawl again and makes an inappropriate gesture at Geth, lazily.

"We really do need to work on your manners. But I think she'll love that, honestly. A rough-hewn Farstrider, silent and brooding, disgustingly pretty behind all the—” He gestures vaguely up and down Kas's form with a pointedly disapproving face.

"Clothes?" Kas suggests, and smiles wolfishly.

"Mmmm, yes. Definitely that." Geth lets his lids fall to half-mast as he takes in Kas for a moment, then perks up again, bright-eyed. "So, what do you say? Shall I tell her I've recruited you?"

Kas considers, grimacing. As the barmaid passes, he leans to signal her again and nod at his empty water glass. When he sits back up, he shrugs again at Geth. "If you think."

"I do think. I think a great deal. I'm paid quite handsomely to think, on any number of very complex subjects. This subject is not complex. El needs hands, and you need work. And I adore you both. What could be simpler than that?"

Kas studies Geth. "You in it?"

"I am! I am what you might call her right hand man, actually. Her partner in almost entirely legal crime! To be frank, I needed to ease up on the parties a bit myself. And I have a lot of off time right now, what with the Kirin Tor being obsessed with — things I am not part of."

"Nn? What things?"

"Secret Kirin Tor things. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. But not from me!" Geth bats his lashes sweetly.

Kas smiles faintly.

"It will be hard to miss when it's done. But seriously and truly, you know I take my work seriously, after a fashion, and I'm not at liberty to discuss delicate matters."

Kas nods. He accepts his second glass of water from the returning barmaid without a glance. "Have to meet her."

"Yes, I'll set up a playdate soon. She's a busy, busy little bee, but she always finds time for me. Oh goodness, won't we be the gorgeous trio…" Geth’s eyes drift off as he pictures it.

Kas drinks water and eyes Geth over the edge of the glass. He sets it down. "It's like that?"

"Not like that like that. I've never touched the girl. Well, we've cuddled. She's quite cuddly. But you know, probably saving herself for Lor'Themar Theron or something."

Kas smiles crookedly. "Good taste, then."

"Well I'm one of her most intimate friends, so obviously." Geth strokes a hand over the glossy chestnut ponytail that spills forward over his shoulder, then notices he is still wearing his don't-touch-things gloves. He pulls them off. Tucking away his gloves in his pocket, he recommences stroking his own hair, with the satisfaction of a self-grooming cat.

Kas rolls his eye sardonically, but there is a touch of fondness to the smile that quirks his lips.

"I'll set up a meeting as soon as possible. Perhaps she'll have some interesting work for you. We have a sort of… overall mission, but when not pursuing things relevant to that, we just take whatever brings in coin. Within reason."

"Mission?"

"Mm, yes. We're meant to be a sort of… counterbalance to an Alliance mercenary company that has recently begun making rather alarming waves."

(To an elf, two years ago is "recently.")

Kas shows the flicker of a frown.

"Cobalt Company. Heard of them?"

Kas knits his brow and massages his temple with one hand. After a moment he tips his head toward his shoulder in a gesture half-nod, half-shrug.

"Here's the delicious part. Are you familiar with El's acting career at all? Were you ever one for the theater?"

Kas drops his chin and gives Geth a look from beneath his brow that distinctly reads, We have met before, yes? (This means no.)

"Well, I don't know everything you get up to, but… yes, I assumed not. Anyhow, she was known as the 'Crimson Lady' for her very … striking death scenes. That's actually where the name of the company comes from. The Crimson Coterie. And said death scenes were performed with none other than the Cobalt Players… a theater troupe led by Lord Elohad Ference, now the leader of Cobalt Company. Well, the founder. There are two captains. And I have the other wrapped around my little finger. Ference, though, I've utterly failed to make contact with."

Kas digests this information. "Theater. Troupe. Merc companies?"

"Ference was a soldier, then retired to do theater, then a soldier again, then apparently a vagrant for a brief time… and now a mercenary company captain, yes. I believe that El was approached to start the Crimson Coterie because she has quite a personal grudge against Ference."

"Was… approached? Not her own?"

"Yes. By a … er, previously-living fellow, name of Nial. He appears to be… well, I don't know what exactly. But he knows an alarming number of things. About… everything."

Kas stares hard at Geth. "Forsaken. Spy?"

"Yes, absolutely chilling isn't it?" Geth shivers with delight.

Kas lifts his glass for another swallow of water without taking his eye off Geth. His gaze is dubious.

"At any rate, that's just the Dramatic Backstory. Day to day, it's more about going out and killing things that need killing, for pay. Or sometimes finding things. For pay. And so on."

Kas nods. "The Alliance ones — Cobalt. Trouble?"

"Might be, in a sense. In that they may disrupt the balance and spell disaster for the Horde, if they keep growing and escalating their action to the point they have thus far. It was one of theirs who figured out how to portal back to Azeroth from here, for example. They're getting a bit too big for their mercenary britches."

Kas sets his water glass down and taps his fingertips against it lightly, idly. "I am not… into trouble with the Alliance. P–olitics."

"I've had exactly one conversation with Nial, and the impression I got from it is that despite the necessity of his declaring Horde allegiance due to his… state, he is more like me, in that he is concerned with Azeroth as a whole. So to whatever extent he is guiding El's hand, it will be toward balance, and preventing war, and so on. One of Cobalt's captains is a reasonable little thing, but the other, Ference, he bleeds very blue, and that could cause problems given the Company's rising star."

Kas nods slowly.

"The other is Jocoza Sparkwire, who adores me, because I feed her little tidbits from the Archives and send her clockwork flowers. Gnome, you see."

That merits another flicker of a smile from Kas. Gnomes.

"On the whole, I think it'll be an absolute lark, and I'd love to have adventures with you, instead of simply trading stories about them. You're a very poor storyteller, Kas."

Kas makes another eloquent gesture. A picture is worth a thousand words, they say.

"Well, I suppose I'd best be back about what few duties they've assigned me. Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight that doesn't reek?"

Kas looks around the tavern. "Can find one."

"Not here, you can't. Stay at mine tonight, in Silvermoon. Take a real bath. Have a decent meal. Hm?"

Kas rolls his eye again in a distinctly Fine, Dad way. "Okay."

"Good. All settled then. Now can I trust you not to immediately pickle yourself the moment I leave? I don't want you vomiting all over my draperies."

Kas makes a surprisingly crisp — considering the way he's sprawled again — Farstrider salute.

Geth reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few gold coins. "Buy yourself something pretty. Another gold if you're wearing it when I get home." He winks. He pushes the coins across the table.

Kas offers another faint smile and lays his hand down on the table, vanishing the coins. He nods once.

Geth rises and moves around to Kas's side of the table. He leans down and cups Kas's jaw in one well-manicured hand, giving him a lingering kiss on the part in his hair. "See you soon."

Kas tilts his head to peer up sidelong at Geth. He nods again. "Yes," he rasps.

Geth saunters out.