Private The Trenches All the Half-Forgotten Things

[Evva Diyeus]

Evva Diyeus' home wasn't particularly opulent. Situated on one of the more southerly streets of the Trenches, so close to the Condos that it was able to benefit somewhat from the respectability without suffering from the same property taxes, it was best described with words like "modest" and "comfortable". More importantly for today, it was the sort of place that one might invite a training instructor of the Stoatorian Guard without immediately having him assume it was a thinly veiled attempt on his life.

The residence wasn't large. A town-home with three stories, the wildcat kept it full of antiques from here and specimens from there and more books than her younger self would have thought possible. Had she shared the space with anyone else, it would have felt... cramped. For just herself, it was a refuge. And more private for this kind of meeting than having it take place in her office in the University would have been.

This most recent project had been expansive, stretching her knowledge of history, zoology, and mythologies so varied that even different renditions of the same stories bore no more than a passing resemblance to each other. It was exhilarating. Or would be, had she not found herself at something of a dead end. Evva frowned at the graphite-smudged papers that now lay spread across the large table that dominated the second floor of her home. Of course they were in a more obscure dialect of Varangian.

She hadn't known the Varangians had made it that far east. On the one paw, a fascinating discovery. On the other, it was going to require a reworking of her theory. And that was without even knowing what it said. Or it was a fluke, a coincidence, and she had invited Caden Freemont and his adopted daughter into her home for nothing. At least it was bound to be an interesting conversation regardless.

 

[Asta Dalgaard]

It had taken nearly a month for Asta to be comfortable walking the streets again after the incident at the Niceties party. Even then, sudden loud noises would cause her to startle, and she kept close to Caden, who walked somewhat stiffly beside her. His burns from the explosion were mending, but the depth and extent of the injuries meant it would be months, if not the better part of the year before he was back to normal functioning. The doctors were not sure if his shoulder would ever regain full mobility--it was all dependent on how the scar tissue formed around the joint in the healing process--and he would have permanent scarring across the right side of his back, shoulder, arm, neck and jaw. Still, the albino kept in decent spirits despite the near-constant pain and limitations to his mobility. Asta was certain quite a bit of his positivity was due to the presence of Daniil to dote on him. The poor todd had somehow found a way to blame himself for Caden's injuries, and had to be convinced that he need not wait on Caden paw and footpaw whenever they were home together.

Asta was surprised Caden had taken so well to the reduction in activity prescribed by the doctors at Pyrostoat, and even more surprised and elated when he had given his approval of her joining the Unsmudgables. She thought to blame it on the laudanum he had been given prior to the conversation, but even after he had sobered, he told her he thought it would be a good idea for her to get involved in the Faction.

She had been nearly as excited when he told her he had received a letter from an academic who learned of their connection to Varangia and wished to speak with them regarding translation of a Varangian text.

"What do you think it could be?" she asked, elbow hooked on her adoptive father's arm as they turned down the street of the indicated address. She spoke in her native Varangian tongue, as they often did in public. It was partially so that Caden could keep up his practice of the language and maintain fluency, and partially because it afforded them privacy in their conversations.

Caden adjusted his spectacles as he peered at the address numbers on the townhouses. "I'm a mercenary, not a scholar or historian, so I don't have the faintest idea."

"Oh, but it's fun to speculate, isn't it? Maybe they've found some old mythologies, or something from fallen Armöst."

They came to the steps of the house, and Asta bounced up them as Caden took them at a slower pace, his paw resting on the hilt of his sword as he tried to keep the pain from showing in his expression. The jill knocked on the door.

"What if it's some new story from history nobeast has ever heard of?" she continued as they waited. "We could be famous for helping to bring it to light in the Imperium!"

Caden gave a non-committal grunt. "Could be? Though you can take the fame. You know how I am about that kind of thing."

 

[Evva Diyeus]

The knock sounded through the town-home and Evva started for the stairs, pausing just long enough at the window to glance down at the stoop outside her front door. Two martens, one albino and the other light-furred. Punctual beasts, then. A trait she could appreciate. A moment later, her paw was unlocking the door and drawing back the latch.

"Caden Freemont and Asta Dalgaard, I presume? Please, come in, and thank you for lending me your time." Her whiskers spread in a welcoming smile, even as her green eyes appraised them both. Caden was a beast of about her age. Someone she could have grown up with-- someone she might have played with when she was very, very small. It was possible; their parents had known each other, after all. The cat felt a twinge of some complicated and unnamed emotion. Odd. She had thought those feelings to be long since discarded.

As for the younger of the two martens, she seemed the sort of beast it would be impossible to dislike. And, if first impressions were anything to judge off of, someone it would be easy to work with. It would be something to keep in mind if she would be delving into Varangian history and mythology.

"I have food and drink upstairs, as well as the rubbings I mentioned," she said, gesturing inside and up the stairs.