#I'm sweating trying to not make a fool of myself or offend haha...ohu...

[nostalgiaclown]

Staring Role

Claude Delecroix - He/Him - 45(??) - Antivan Crows - ??? Optimistic -Eccentric - Secure - Theatrical - Reflective - Loyal

Everyone wears a mask, to hide their hurt, their wants, and their fears.  The mask that you believe gives you additional autonomy can also strip you of your power, though you may not realise this, at first. I am a man of many faces, which is your favourite? Do you know which one is real? Will I ever show you, I wonder...? A mask torn from the face leaves an ugly scar, which cannot be removed. You cannot undo that kind of damage when you forcibly take. The other must remove the mask willingly, must want to be known, seen. Will you gain my trust? Will I show you what’s beneath the mask?-

“Claude-! Get your pointy nose out of that perverted little diary of yours and help us!” The Antivan swore as he took down another Qunari soldier -(??) muttering under his breath as he continued to dodge and evade. “…fucking Orlesian- why did I get paired with this guy, is this my divine punishment? I make one mistake…” 

Claude gasps with dramatic offence, snapping the little book closed and stashing in the breast pocket of his coat. He grips his staff that was resting in the crook of his elbow with his left hand and lifts it, conveniently hitting one of the attackers in the head just behind him. 

“Oh! mon dieux!” He jumps to the side slamming his staff down to create a thunderous wave to knock the assaulter back before they can regain their balance.

A single bead of sweat drips down the side of his face below the mask he wore.

That was... too close for comfort. 

Now, you may ask, how did an Orlesian Theatre actor, a mage, end up as a Crow?

Well, I would also like to know.

“And scene!” The last of the qunari falls to the ground in a smouldering heap. 

“Well, all things considered, that rehearsal was not too bad- ah!” A blade pressed to Claude's neck halts his speech, lips pressing into a fine line.

“You! Almost got us both killed! What do you NOT understand about stealth mission? We were to get in, and out, swiftly. Not barge in through the front doors screaming “Hello we're here to kill you!””

Claude's mouth twitches up, he gently places his hand over Marzio’s wrist, the tip of their blade digging a little deeper into the scarred flesh on the left side of his neck.

“I did not… ‘scream’, I project! And the line was ‘A good evening to you all! We're here to find a Monsieur- well, whatever his name is, could someone please direct us?’ I did not say anything about killing-” The made motions idly with his free hand as he speaks.

“You think you can just waltz in, dressed like that?! And they'll just happily take you straight to him? You're not even in a disguise, you don't need to say anything for it to scream ‘I'm here to kill you!’-”

Claude can sense the man's rising panic, of course it's understandable, this mission was to be a way for him to redeem himself, prove his usefulness to the Crows. 

The taller mage, seemingly not too worried about the knife at his neck, takes a look around.

“Waltz? Well there is no music, but if you want to dance… we certainly can, my friend.” The mage turns his head back to his fellow crow, his thumb applying pressure to his wrist, he successfully catches them off guard, their grip on the knife loosening. Of course, a Crow has many hidden blades, but, this Crow has only the one left. Claude knows, he was counting. 

You see behind the masks and theatrics, is a highly observant man, he knows well, everyone's places, queues, the stage direction, costumes… of course he made sure to count how many hidden blades __ stashed away on his person.

“Claude-! What do you think you're doing?” The crow flusters when the mage rests his other hand on his lower back. 

“Oh, you did not want to dance, mon chéri?” Claude applies more pressure and the knife drops with a clatter to the ground.

“If you do not know the steps, I can teach you, bébé chien!” 

“Claude! We don't have time for- your theatrics!” The man's voice is a little higher now, urgent, his eyes flicker to the charred corpse near their feet, he does not really want to have to go toe to toe with a mage, unarmed. Especially not here.

Claude doesn't miss his tells, that's… not good. The mage contemplates how this man made it this far, his acting is atrocious, he can see why he was given his mission now, oh, a pity. 

Claude pulls the man closer, takes his hand. “You know, a lot of people find this glance to be quite scandalous…” 

“We really don't-”

“You know, it was not your fault, yes?”

“What?”

Claude sighs, before side stepping and pulling Marzio into a slow waltz. The man follows along, out of fear? or perhaps he's simply going to grab one of his discarded blades from one of the corpses as they pass and do away with the mage.

“It was not your fault, you would not have known they used a decoy, a body double, a very good one too, the likeness was quite startelling.”

“How… Do you know about that?”

“Oh that is not important, chéri!”

“Now, you have a few options to choose from, on how the story here ends…”

“Un, you attempt to take my life, who knows, maybe you succeed, but alors how do you explain that one? Especially if you return empty handed…”

“Deux, this one, I am not fond of, I extinguish your flame… and report back that, unfortunately, you were not cut out for this after all, bébé chien!”

“Trois, I use my impeccable skills, set the stage, giving you the starring role! Put you back in the, how would you say it, good books.”

A myriad of emotions cross the man's face as he takes in the older mages words, why does he know about that mission? Clarity crosses his features and dread sets in his stomach, they really sent this guy to test his usefulness to the Crows? That's beyond embarrassing to him. 

“What do you mean, starring role?”

“Oh excellant! I did hope you would pick that option, mon chéri.”

“It was so clever of you to stage a distraction, slip away, and collect the letter we needed, I would applaud you were my hands not already…occupied.” Claude squeezes his hand and pulls him just that little bit closer, scandalous indeed. The mage let's out an airy chuckle.

“Why would you do that for me..?” 

Of course he is suspicious.

“Oh, simply payment for indulging me with a dance!” He dips the man and pulls him back up close to his ear now his voice soft and low. “But if you're amenable you can thank me later, bébé chien!” He laughs when the man pulls his face away, but Claude can see the colouring of his cheeks and curiously behind his angered face. 

“Hah! You are terribly easy to read, mon chéri. If you'd like I can give you a few lessons, we could even make it a little more… exciting.” 

“Are you like this with everyone?”

“Ha! No, I just like you. bébé chien!”

“You keep calling me that, what does it mean?”

“Oh! Hm… a puppy.”

“P-puppy??” Oh now he's flushed. 

“Oui, you still need training. Now, have you made a decision? The smell of burnt flesh if not one I enjoy, or, are you going to kill me, bébé chien?” Claude releases the hold he has on the man. Eyes never leaving his. 

“My guess is you already got what we came here for then…?” 

Claude produces the letter from his inner pocket, holding it between two fingers. 

“Now I won't ask again, how is this story going to end, chéri?” The mages voice is more firm now, but still holds a playful edge.

The Antivan looks at him for a few more beats, weighing up his options. He takes the letter, pulls one of his blades from a qunari corpse, pauses, then stows the letter in his own pocket, sheathing the blade and turning his back to walk towards the entrance.

“Let's go. Smells awful here.” 

Claude chuckles and follows behind, placing a hand on the antivans back he leans over towards him as they walk.

“You should not turn your back on an enemy, you know?” 

“Good thing you're not one, then.” 

Claude laughs louder and the man winces and screws up his face.

“Oh, I do love the drama of this place! The game was starting to get rather stale, you know?” 

“Are you ever quiet?”

“When the performance calls for silence, oui.”

The Antivan shakes his head, but makes no move to pull away from the mage as he contemplates his motives. What does he have to gain from doing this for him? Will he simply betray him when they return? He would rather he killed him now than face whatever punishment he would receive. 

“I am serious, you know? If you'd like me to teach you to better control your emotions, school your features, just ask.”

Claude moves his hand away now, putting a more respectable distance between them.

“Or, I can do this for you, then simply leave you to your own devices, I'll watch your folly from the side lines.” 

The antivan is once again thrown off by the man's tonal shift, his voice is calm, serious, missing that playful melodic edge to it. Similar to when he told him it wasn't his fault. He also, begrudgingly realises he misses the gentle pressure of the mages hand on his lower back. 

“I think I'll reserve my answer until we report back.”

“Oh! He does not trust me! But that's good, maybe I won't have to train you as much as I thought, bébé chien.” 

Oh. There he is, back again with that playfully light tone.

“Please don't call me that back at base.”

“Oh? Reserved for private times, hm? Scandalous.”

“Claude…”

“Oh I'm just teasing! If it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop. But I think you like it. Hm?” 

The Antivans silence answers for him. 

Claude chuckles again as they make the rest of the way back in silence.

If you look closely, you'll notice the ends of the mages hair by the nape of his neck curled slightly, sticking to clammy skin. If you were to remove his mask, you'd pick up on the slight twitch of his lip. If he was not moving his hands so much as he spoke, you would notice the slight tremor in the right. 

Yes, Claude was confident in his ability to talk his way through a plethora of situations, but put him in combat? Physical battle in place of a verbal sparring? 

He's afraid.

Fights are chaotic. A complex dance that you must be quick to learn and adapt to.

There's no set script in battle.

No rehearsal, it's improv, but mistakes cost lives. 

Claude can only keep up this act for so long, words and wit will only get him so far.

Joining the Crows then seemed like a good idea, at the time. 

Immerse himself in the tangled web of lies, deception, death. Great writing inspiration!

But he is untimely afraid, when that threat of death is but a whisper away and he has no control when it's time for curtail fall.

“All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts." 

But, who is the real Claude now? He's not sure even if he knows anymore. But, he would very much like to meet him again, or perhaps, you will be the one to find out for him?