sixthiterationlogs | [ MINGLE ] MINING EXPEDITION

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[ MINGLE ] MINING EXPEDITION

WHO: Tony Stark & Co.
WHERE: North West Mountain Range
WHEN: November 5th - 8th
OPEN TO: Open to all
WARNINGS: Language, canon typical violence

The Hike Up/Down

After sending a message out the day before to meet him in the fountain park at dawn (daylight is important) Tony packs up. Supplies secured and a path found mostly by working himself up (not that difficult) and following the blue path only he can see (still weird) Tony guides his modest expedition up a winding way over rivers and to a promising stony outcropping at the base of the mountains before needing a moment to 're-calibrate'. AkA get stressed out as to where to head next for optimal ore extraction. It takes a minute but- again, he's got a lot of anxieties to kick into gear and it should be easy enough to nudge their rag tag little group further up until they find the right spot. Making an easy walk down- well. That's also a trick. Finding a quick path back to the village before they lose the light- marking the way they've come so they can find it the next day? Kind of important.

Digging a Hole

Breaking ground is a matter of staring, trying to think back to what little he knows of geology (not fucking much), and waiting for the anxiety to get to the point where it'll hand him something specific. They need ore, they need a good starting location, and once they manage to pinpoint it? Pickaxes are handed out, a nearby cave explored, and Tony strips down to get to work. Crack stone, haul it out, rinse, repeat. Anything usable gets put in sacks made from stolen sheets to be hauled down- not the best system he's got but they're just getting started. Regular breaks are A thing, canteens of water passed around- he's pretty sure there's a stream somewhere that should help with the 'not dying of thirst' issue in the future.

Encounters With Natives

Somewhere on the hike up, during the dig, or taking a rest on one of the craggy boulders surrounding the cave where they're chipping away at stone, signs of native fauna linger. There's a patchy nest looking thing where one can hear the mewling of peakittens, blue eyed, tiny, and abandoned by the looks of it. Loping about the slopes a few curious mountain elk that bound in at the sign of food, keeping a cautious distance but wandering close should anyone appear friendly. Near the woods, though, just as they wind their way up- or make their way back down at the end of the day? Dust Moths have taken to the air, shimmering wings leaving powder in the air.

Environmental Effects

During the hike up in the predawn there's lying mist clinging to the sides of the mountain in thin curls, swirling in the air as they hike through it. Careful not to inhale too deeply, otherwise you might find yourself a little more honest than you'd like for most of the morning, and that could make the rest of the hike pretty damn awkward. In the caves proper there's stone and ore enough- and a dark, black powder that tastes of licorice and ash. Shadow dust. Maybe the next few swings don't do as much damage- or do any at all. Maybe they picking up stone becomes impossible till you're in the light.

In Too Deep

On the second, maybe the third day all their activity and digging catches some aggressive attention. A pickaxe sunk too deep, cracking through a cave wall and finding a den of snarling, hungry cave wolves that spill through the hole all snapping teeth and snarling claws, bursting out of the tunnels to scatter whoever's dared to come close to their home. A tree felled to mark their path startles a giant boar into charging, bellowing in the night, turning tusk and muscle to clear it's own way through their weary line.

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"I can't move. If I move they'll wake up and start crying again, you didn't hear them Bull, it hurt my very soul." And he didn't much believe in souls. But they were finally quiet, finally calming, and dozing off while tucked up against him like he's the best kind of heater.

Which.

He might be.

Bull laughs and pets the one that he has pressed against his chest. "We better not show these to Dorian, he is going to want one. It is a cat and a peacock, just like him."

He leans over and kisses Tony's hair, wrapping an arm around him and holding him as well, grinning at the sleeping puppies.

Having traveled with the Inquisition for months now, in some of the most hostile and freezing terrains in the Maker's creation, Dorian's gotten used to keeping close to the others. Of those gathered, the Bull is the only one he actually knows...and he also knows with some authority that the Bull is exceedingly warm, a trait he plans on exploiting.

And then he hears his name as he approaches. "And just what is it I'm not to-" the rest of that sentiment is lost as his eyes fall upon the most beautiful alien creature he's laid eyes on. Forgive him, Tony, he hasn't even noticed who they're reclining on. "Sweet Maker, what stunning creatures..." Then he takes notice of Tony. "Where is their mother? She won't take kindly to their being so thoroughly handled by humans, I suspect."

Leaning against Bull is easy- he radiates heat, he's solid, Tony trusts him enough to know he won't step away on a whim; between his comforting bulk and whatever it is in the kittens that makes everything seem less awful? He's pretty well relaxed and smiley by the time Dorian wanders over.

"Peakittens. No sign of a mother." He reaches up, careful not to disturb the one on his chest, and smooths his fingers through tufts of pale blue fur. "The nest was abandoned so either something happened or- I don't know? We're taking them back to the village since there aren't any other nests in the area that'll take them in. Not that we've found."

"Who are we here?" Bull smiles up at Dorian, nodding to the other side of Tony for the other to sit down. "Tell me it is not Alex." Because he has a feeling the guy would love these things. He seems fascinated by anything different.

He shifts to pick up the one resting against his chest and holds it out to Dorian. "I think this one looks like you."

"Peakittens," He repeated the word offered him by Tony to get a feel for it. He's never heard of such creatures, of course, but if he had, looking at the kitten Bull hands him as he takes a seat near, but not against, Tony, he would have tried his damnedest to convince his father to change their house crest...by way of manipulating his mother of course.

He looked down at the kitten in his hands, and it peered right back, little juvenile eyes glittering with intelligence and curiosity. He didn't notice the smile beginning to spread across his lips. "The resemblance really is uncanny. He's rather clean for a wild animal, which I appreciate in any creature." Before he could speak more on the topic, though, the little kitten ran down his arm and promptly found a place to burrow into the peacoat he wore and he laughed.

"Yes, I rather agree."

"I'm a mechanic, not a cryptozoologist. Softer sciences aren't my thing. Of course Alex." Animals and how they behave? Never really something that came up in his line of work. Not even in the rescue and removal of-

other people tended to handle that shit.

"Fair warning- they have sort of a bliss effect? Mild euphoria. Kicks in with extended skin to skin contact." Tony says, one burrowed up under his chin, bare skin very much in contact with these sleeping, adorable creatures. There's definitely a looser cast to his posture, a warmer curve to his smile, a lilt to his voice. "Though I don't know if it effects them? Cats groom themselves fastidiously, I know that much, and they seem pretty unaffected."

Bull chuckles slightly. "Then we're going to have a house filled with them..." He sighs, clearly Alex as a roommate had been a terrible idea. He chuckles when the kitten starts to crawl under Dorian's jacket and then glances back at Tony at the explanation. "And here I thought it was me who was making you all high like that." He shakes his head. "And it probably doesn't, a lot of creatures are immune to their own poison."

"And once again the Bull gives himself far too much credit." His retort came with no glance in Bull's direction. No, it was spoken to Tony directly, with a bit of mischief glittering in his eyes.

Dorian has never heard of a creature that type of effect before, but that doesn't stop him from being even more fascinated as a result.

"Felines are always euphoric. They do secretly rule the world, after all." A small from his pocket for his attention and he looked, down into those beautiful eyes again, gazing up at him, only its head visible. "Making yourself at home, are you? Do I get no say in the matter?" Another tiny mew was the only response he received and he chuckled. "Point taken."

"Your company is more invigorating than it is restful, Big Guy." Tony huffs, tipping his cheek against Bull's shoulder for a moment, blinking lazily at Dorian, much like the kitten curled on his head. Slow, as close to contentment as he's felt in...awhile.

He may end up keeping one of these cats. Just- for the anti-anxiety affect if nothing else. "I didn't think it was that secret. Anyone that owns a cat has been well trained by their pet. I've seen it. Furry little tyrants is what they are."

Bull laughs at Dorian's little jab. And he reaches out to stroke Dorian's shoulder as well. He likes this a lot, just a fun little relaxing time with two guys he likes. And a pile of kittens. "The more you tell me about them the more I believe Dorian is one. Did I tell you about the time he tried to get me all dressed up for this Orlaisian party?"

"They're particular. If you feel that makes they tyrannical, you clearly have no sense of compromise." Because, quite like living with Dorian, 'compromise' was an illusion when living with a cat. It was their way or no way.

This was still too new, too...odd for Dorian to be overly comfortable with the contact, and he swallows at the Bull's touch, masking his unease with a laugh the bloody Qunari would most likely see through, but hopefully would have the decency not to point it out. "Are you suggesting my caress is euphoric? If so, please, do go on."

He rolled his eyes at the mention of the gathering at the Winter Palace, shaking his head. "It was at Josephine's behest, Bull. We were, after all, representing our heretical organization. We had to make a good impression, and the Inquisitor insisted on bringing you along 'because he's good at reading people', she said."

"Cats don't compromise." Offhand and easy, masks set aside in favor of...basking? Basking. In kitten snores, tiny mews, and the swath of warmth that is Bull on one side and Dorian on the other. "They huff, pout, and scream until they get their way. Like a needy significant other. A very needy significant other."

So, apparently- like Dorian. High maintenance, which he can see. Tony cracks an eye open in time to catch a flicker of something on Dorian's face but- it's not weird yet. He doesn't think it's weird yet, they're all adults, they're all comfortable, they're all fine, right? Right.

"Well. He is." A beat, he tips his face up to Bull, blinking. "You are. Had me pegged within, what, five seconds of meeting me? I'm not used to that."

"You're not that hard to read Tony. I've met guys like you before. Usually, because I ended up working for them but yeah." He glances up at Dorian when the other swallows, catching the look and toning down his touch just a tad but also not letting go. He wants Dorian to get used to this, being touched in public, people being proud to be with him. "And I know for a fact that a lot of people who have to be in control all the time likes to let it go sometimes." Maybe that is a bit too much info but hey..

He glances over at Dorian. Dorian might be high maintenance but if you ask Bull he is worth it. They both are. Basking sounds good to him and that isn't just because of the cats. It has more to do with his two guys right here.

"And let's be honest, it wasn't just because I am good at reading people. I am also a very obvious reminder of the force behind the inquisitor. You and Josephine and Cullen and Leilianna can make people forget how dangerous you are. Not a bad thing if you ask me. But me, every time they look at me they see Qunari."

"They most certainly do not, and why should they?" If the Bull was going to compare him to cat, he was damn well going to fit the part. He did chuckle at Tony's explanation, shaking his head. "Bull isn't as talented as he likes to claim. It isn't as though he can rummage about in your mind and find your darkest secrets." No, that was a talent reserved for another member of the Inquisition and one Dorian believes Tony may have qualms with, at least at first. Dorian found him fascinating.

He turned his attention back to Bull, still uncertain, but trying to relax. "It's true, you are a hulking brute, whereas they see me and assume I'm a 'scary blood mage' from Tevinter. A snake in the grass. Did you no one spoke to be at that party? Whispered nasty commentary behind their hands certainly, but never actually spoke to me. If I were actually a statesman it would be scandalous."

"Because typically they're not the ones feeding themselves? If I'm providing food they need to work with me." At least it's hard to forget feeding them at the very least. Tony's eyes flick over to Dorian, one brow cocked. Bull's casual assessment is one thing but- "Been there, done that, do not recommend it. Kind of-"

He lifts a hand carefully, vaguely, flicks his fingers about in an inarticulate and infinitely eloquent gesture that boils down to 'everything went to shit in a quick way and I'd rather not go through it again, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars-' etc, etc. "I'll take beefy once over's with a side of intimidating presence over brain fuckery any day."

A beat.

"Well you could hide in a corner and put up with it- or lean into it enough and put your own spin on the title. Worked for me. Wasn't a 'scary blood mage' whatever that is, not interested in learning, sounds unsanitary- but Merchant of Death. Lean into it. Own it. Strut. Then hit them with what they aren't expecting like...actual political commentary? I don't know what you were trying to do but you're smart, I'm sure you've got something witty and cutting to offer."

Bull chuckles at little at Tony's description. "If they expect a dumb brute of a Vashoth mercenary, give them that. Then, a dagger in their back, or keeping track of all their movements. You're not going to stop everything they say about you, find a way to work it to your advantage. You are smarter than they are anyway."He gives Dorian a smile with just a hint of danger behind it. "Even a peacock got a beak and claws after all."

He looks at Tony. "Merchant of Death? Oh I know people who'd like to meet you." But he isn't going to let them. No way. Par Vollen is no place for Tony. The arm tightens slightly around Tony, protective.

Dorian possessed a beak, certainly. No amount of world travel or magical restriction would take his words from him, but claws? No. He'd been well and truly clipped, a fact that was driven home by the both of them, even if they hadn't intended that to be the case. He flexed his jaw slightly, glancing down toward his pocket, under the guise of checking on the kitten, and swallowed slightly. Neutered is what he'd been, thoroughly. After a moment, he found his verbal stride, though, and chuckled.

"One doesn't 'embrace' claims of blood magic, Tony, lest he desire swift decapitation at the hands of well-meaning but ultimately blind men and women serving the 'greater good'. At least not in public." Dorian of course would never partake of such a thing, but most people would never believe that.

"We were attempting to subvert an assassination attempt, which we accomplished with a few twists along the way. Orlais will continue its trade with Tevinter, they like our wine too much to say no." He seems to bristle at the comments, though, and does his best to look proud. "I'm smarter than most people, Bull. I'm well aware of that, and more capable."

But he also welcomes the shift in topic. "I wouldn't mind knowing to what they may be referring. 'Merchant of Death'? Are you an assassin?"

That's a semi-familiar look. One Tony knows well enough not to draw attention to- shared wine and woes aside, they're hardly close enough to start discussing vulnerable moments with each other. So he focuses instead on the kitten, the thrumming contentment soaking into his skin, banishing anxiety and frustration and guilt from his former profession all in one adorable purr. "Play the narrative. Being the smartest man in the room helps with that."

For him or, well. For Dorian and Bull. They seem more than savvy enough to pull that particular gambit if pressed.

"Mm? I designed weapons. A little more advanced than the axe I made Bull things like guns- do you have guns? Um. Cannons. Do you have gunpowder? Explosives, drones, mortars, missiles. Long range munitions, smart weapons that wouldn't require soldiers to stand in the line of fire when they were used, shit like that. Kind of the family business. Stark weapons were the best, the most reliable, the most lethal, and the most reasonably priced. So." Merchant of Death.

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[ MINGLE ] MINING EXPEDITION

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