He’s Not Lost We Just Don’t Know That One Of Us Knows Where He Is
And Then When We Do Know That, We Don’t Know Where She Is
So Basically Everything Tove Learns is Useless
But He’s Probably Not Dead!
Maybe.
Tove meant to peek into Rikvi’s office with care. It wouldn’t do to interrupt a necromantic ritual or Wolf knows what possibly worse thing. She needn’t have worried, however–Rikvi was standing right there as soon as she opened the door.
“Aaah!” Tove flung up her arms and shied away.
“Tove,” Rikvi replied, unperturbed. “You’ve come to ask me something.”
Tove took a few moments to catch her breath, grumbling about foresight as a trick to startle relatives. “I just wonder if you could try to locate Genjl. He hasn’t been seen in awhile and Cap is worried.”
“Did you bring me anything that belonged to him? Anything with his essence, at all?”
“…no?” Tove sheepishly stuck her hands in her pockets. “Can’t you scry anyway?”
Rikvi pulled herself to her full height–considerably taller than the lanky ranger–and pinned her with a heavy look. “It is much more work with a far higher chance of failure.”
Rikvi’s apprentice Ceridwen piped up from the corner, “Wait, Genjl? Light fingered little green twig, fairly fresh off the branch?” The green-and-black sylvari looked up from her work bench, a pair of femurs still clutched in her hands.
“Yes! That one.”
“Oh. Brigid ran into him.”
“Great!” Tove said excitedly. “When was this? Do you think she knows where he might be?”
“Awhile ago?” Cer waved a hand–and bone–dismissively before going back to…well it involved a construct of some sort of Tove didn’t want to look at it too closely. “I’ve been busy and not paying much attention.”
“Do you know where Brigid is, then? Or I can just get a hold of her…” Most of her old crew, Brigid included, still carried around the radios. Tove started fishing around her pouches for hers.
“Not a clue. She lost her radio a couple of days ago. She does that all the time–you know this. It’s why Syrri is always cross with you.”
Aaand she stopped digging, and sighed. “Syrri is cross with me because I’m a ‘ham-fisted Norn who breaks everything’. Do you know where Brigid was going? Anything?”
“No.”
Tove ran a hand through her hair. “How do you have no idea where your mate is, Cer?”
“Does your mate know where you are all the time, ranger? She is Brigid. She goes where she wills, and that is rarely where she originally planned. I let her wander around and don’t fuss at her, and she lets me work as much as I like. That’s why I have two mates, as you term them. Someone is usually available for companionship if needed.”
Tove’s mate did not, in fact, know where she was. She stopped and stared at a particularity interesting piece of wall for a moment.
“Rikvi,” she turned back to her cousin with an exasperated sigh. “Can you get anything about Genjl-“
“The sapling is warmed by the fire,” Rikvi murmured, nose deep in a crumbling scroll.
Oh there she went, being cryptic again. “Okay, but where?”
Two sets of indifferent necromancer shoulders shrugged at her. “Great! So he might be with Brigid, but she has a penchant for running headfirst into trouble while giggling about it. Fine! That’s fine.” Tove threw up her arms and walked out.
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