faderift | I'm one card short of a full deck, I'm not quite the shilling [open]

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I'm one card short of a full deck, I'm not quite the shilling [open]

WHO: Jefferson and YOU.
WHAT: The hatter's settling in at Skyhold. Well. As settled as he can be. The guy's kind of twitchy.
WHEN: Latter part of Solace
WHERE: Skyhold and all associated locales.
NOTES: Will add warnings as needed.

They've been shepherded to this keep in the middle of the mountain range with the promise that they aren't the only ones. That they're working on a way to send them all back home again. It's more than he expected, the courtesy and hospitality, even if some of the people in the keep give them wary looks. There have been incidents. The extent of which he's not sure, but it's not a surprise. Traveling between worlds is tricky at the best of times.

And it's never left him with a souvenir like this one. The mark feels like an invasion, like corruption, and it makes his skin crawl. Occasionally he's taken to rubbing at the green mark on his hand, sometimes without noticing that he's doing it. It's done nothing to improve his already rather nervous temperament.

Still, best thing to do for the moment is try to adapt. Don't draw too much attention, observe the goings on in the castle. He keeps his distance from the soldiers and the training ring, though he does on occasion stop to watch. He flits into the tavern and out again, able to overhear some decent bits of gossip.

There's also a library, as it turns out. It's doubtful there'd be anything of use as far as getting them home, or surely they would have found it by now, but it can't hurt to have a look on the sly. He's not quite sure if 'Rifters' are allowed to go poking through their things, so he does so when there are relatively few people around.

This isn't quite the prison he expected it to be. But that doesn't change the fact that once again, he's been torn away from his daughter. That's a bitter pill to swallow, no matter how scenic the vistas or friendly the people.

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Despite her limitations and the way that people looked at her, Ariadne had found her own unique way to contribute to the Inquisition. Unofficially, of course. But given her secretive nature, that didn't bother her so much.

As it turned out, she had a very good knack for entertaining children.

Who would have guessed?

When she wasn't nipping bits of food no one would miss, or fetching and carrying for the healing tents, her found herself increasingly looking after the children of the refugees, keeping them entertained with songs or tiny trips or little games that she knew from home.

As evening approached, she had a whole group of them in hysterics, chasing after each other with thin twigs which were, now, of course, swords. She battled against one or two and, having no real skill with a blade, didn't have to try all that hard to lose on purpose. They practiced dying in the most grotesque manners they could come up with, leaving them all in frantic fits of giggles, no one louder than Ariadne herself.

The sight was a bittersweet one. Jefferson's jaw twitched and clenched as he watched the children swarming the young woman they'd apparently claimed as their playmate, before taking a breath and glancing away. Grace wasn't here, he should be grateful for that fact. This world appeared to be a harsh one, and he wouldn't want her in harm's way.

But he missed her. He'd only just gotten her back and felt whole again, for the first time in nearly three decades. And now it felt as though things were falling apart again.

His fingers curled and uncurled at his side before he finally seemed to decide on folding his arms, tucking himself back against a nearby stone wall to watch Ariadne and the children play.

She picked up on the sigh before her detected his scent, surrounded as she was by dozens of others. But that sigh? That sound was impossible to miss. There seemed to be a lot to it. And when the fight afforded her the opportunity to die with gross exaggeration, the twig tucked under her left arm, she turned to look over at the onlooker.

He was a handsome gentleman. And new to the landscape. Ariadne spent enough time observing to memorize the faces.

A Rifter? She couldn't see his hand, but it was possible.

While her 'killer' raced off to honor and glory among the other children, Ariadne sat up, picking some dead leaves out of her long hair. "Friend or foe?" she called out to him, still playful. Several of the children paused to hear his response.

Maybe it was just that he was so used to being unseen. On his own. Unless he was of use, of course. It took him by surprise that she'd paused to take notice of him, much less spoken to him, and for a moment he just stared back at her.

The acute amount of attention briefly had him wanting to disappear back into the keep. But he stood his ground regardless, and tugged what was hopefully a friendly smile into place. "Helpless bystander," he replied, lifting his hands and holding open palms out in surrender.

"Epic battles like this aren't really my speed."

Gracefully, Ariadne swung herself to her feet, pulling the twig out from under her arm and snapping it to one side. "An inspector, then?" she said, putting on a courtly sort of voice. "Welcome aboard the good ship..." She faltered for a second, trying to come up with a good name for a ship. "...the good ship Phoenix. I am Captain Everdeen. And this here is the finest crew on the seas!"

She gave him a deep, grand bow, before turning like a soldier to the children. "Come, you scurvy knaves, the good sir is here to see a demonstration of your skills. Get going. Make a good show of it."

It wasn't, perhaps, her finest performance. But the children certainly didn't know that. Excitedly, they started dueling one another, each pairing eager to show off for the 'inspection.'

Ariadne tucked the twig under her arm, now like a crop, and strolled over to him.

The smile remained in place, even if it felt a bit obligatory, and he remained still as he could while the young woman approached. The scarf at his throat thankfully masked the deep swallowed before he straightened, eyebrows lifting.

"Seems like you've got them all eating out of the palm of your hand," he remarked idly, nodding back towards the children now scrambling to do battle with one another, and prove the most impressive of the bunch.

Ariadne frowned, glancing down at her hands. Aside from the shard, there was nothing in them. "I don't have any food," she said, looking up at him in complete and utter bewilderment.

It occurred to her only a second too late that it was probably a figure of speech.

She'd never been very good with them.

Hoping to cover as quickly as possible, she leaned back against the wall beside him and tilted her head in his direction. "I have to secretly confess," she whispered, "I'm not a real captain."

Oh. Well. Not the first time he'd encountered that particular quirk. Some people could be remarkably literal, and while it was a pain in the ass to keep track of, he could try to remember. His face scrunched lightly.

"Not exactly what I meant. Don't worry about it."

Why she'd chosen to settle in alongside him, he couldn't have said. But the company wasn't unwelcome. Just...odd. Yet it still took surprisingly little effort to keep a straight face as he turned to look back at her, expression comedic in its solemnity.

"Well, your secret's safe with me."

She smiled at him, bobbing her head in gratitude.

This was a man, she decided, who needed some cheering. And she didn't just get that from the sigh now. As she examined him, his defensive posture and sunken-in body language reeked of loneliness. And Ariadne couldn't help it. When she saw someone unhappy, it was always her first instinct to try to remedy that.

"I've never seen you before," she said, turning to watch the children play. "Are you new to Skyhold, my lord?"

"No lord at all," he quickly corrected, waving a hand dismissively before tucking it back into the crook of his arm. During that little display, she might have noticed the flash of green of his palm, or might just as easily have not.

"Helpless bystander seems the whole of it, for the moment," he added, that smile tipping towards wry as his brow falls, pinching slightly.

Oh, she caught the flash of green. How could she not? Ariadne's life was surrounded by the color. She was drawn to it.

And to Rifters. She felt a unique kinship to them. Even if they were as different as night and day. They had at least one thing in common:

They weren't supposed to be there.

"I understand," she replied, holding her hand out, palm-up for him to see. She left it there a moment, before tucking both hands behind her back, to cushion the stone surface of the wall.

Puppy has learned, quite quickly, that hanging around the courtyard near the tavern is an easy way to get attention, and sometimes scraps. Most soldiers love a mabari, and are quick to offer treats. Especially if they have a hound of their own. A smallish and affectionate mabari is a big hit with children, too. Children are always good for a game of tag, or tug-of-war.

Jefferson is not a soldier or a child, but Puppy comes sniffing all the same, nudging at his knee with a strong wet nose.

Don't be fooled by the invisible bars, this place is still a prison. Anything that keeps Emma from her son tends to qualify as one, in spite of the fact that it's not quite as broken down as the cell she'd been stuck in back the Enchanted Forest. She doesn't doubt that some of the people here are sincere in their efforts to try to send them back, but she's never gotten anywhere sitting around and waiting for things to happen - it isn't her style, and it doesn't usually work.

She's already raised the question of trying to open a portal. So far, her best bet is to make her own way out, and doing that requires information that Emma currently doesn't have. There are obvious places to look for that kind of thing, and a tavern seems to qualify in just about every world. She's seated just away from the crowd, listening, when the hatter walks in. He's going to want to talk so she looks up and makes eye contact, nodding approval he probably didn't need. They have their kids to get home to, and their interests are aligned this time.

She doesn't trust him, but in this situation, she doesn't have to.

Ruby is on her way to the medical tents. She's almost always on her way to or from them, these days. The medical area and the library and the undercroft in her mini brewery were where Ruby always seemed to be, and now she's caught up in preparations for heading off to Orlais. She doesn't dress like most people around Skyhold; oh, she's used to dresses and bodices and all the rest from the Enchanted Forest, but somewhere along the way she started missing shorts and bangles, so now there's a severed pair of leather shorts on her legs and five braided leather strap bracelets rolling down her wrist, and she's carrying an alarming number of books. Behind her there is a trail of flowers blooming and marking her path, buttercups and forget me knots and little red and purple flowers she doesn't know the names for peeking up through the thickening bed of grass.

Carrying books, being useful, doing things. Or— she was. Until someone going one way and in a great hurry knocks into her, makes her step backwards and there is a painful, hopeful moment where she wavers, where she thinks she can tip herself back forwards with the power of momentum and

It fails.

Spectacularly.

Behold, Ruby Lucas, Big Bad Wolf, sitting in a trough of water and holding a collection of books out of the water, while two bob tragically in the water, and she huffs her hair out of her face. "Great. Awesome." And there's someone she knows. Ruby exhales slowly, and looking up at Jefferson. That's not who walked into her, but that doesn't make him any more someone she expected to see. "... Hi."

He doesn't quite stumble, but he does take notice, glancing down in a hurry at the snuffling.

"Whoa, hey..."

Even as a puppy, he's a weighty little thing, an easy representation of what he'll be as an adult, all muscle and broad shoulders and growing into those massive paws of his.

Brow creasing, Jefferson takes to a knee and offers the animal his palm. "Easy. I'm friendly, see? No reason to go get any of your big brothers..."

They do in fact have the exact same things to gain or lose. It makes trust rather irrelevant save the minor details, but that doesn't mean it isn't the slightest bit awkward laying eyes on one another again. There's no imminent danger now to distract from the fact that last time they saw one another?

Things didn't end all that well.

But if she's not holding a grudge, he'll...well. He'll try. Mouth thinning slightly, Jefferson nods in return, maneuvering his way around the wooden posts at the outer edges of the tavern floor, before dropping down quietly into a seat across from her and turning his gaze back towards the roaring fire at its center.

His thumb, meanwhile, traces the edge of that green shard in his palm.

"Find out anything useful?"

The splash causes quite the commotion, more than enough to draw the attention of a paranoid hatter. Impulse has him drawing closer to assist -- and helping himself to a look at those books as he picks them up off the ground -- before tucking them under an arm and glancing upwards.

And. Well. Not who he was expecting to see either. He recognizes her, not from the Enchanted Forest but from Storybrooke, from Granny's Diner. He hadn't come down from the mansion in the woods often enough to be familiar with her, and after the first few weeks of trying to see if anyone remembered or might believe him? He'd given up entirely.

Is he bitter? No. That'd be ridiculous.

His expression goes a bit stiff, before he continues reaching down to offer her a hand out of the trough. "Careful. Some of these look important."

"Oh, no," Ruby replies ruefully, accepting the hand with a smile that's both grateful and undermined by her irritation with herself. "I bet books are super easy and cheap to produce, here. This isn't a problem at all."

Once she's back on her feet, Ruby fishes the two books out of the water, though her gaze returns to the guy quickly. It's not like she knows him well. For regulars at Granny she could tell you their usual order and any number of random facts, whether about their Storybrooke or Enchanted Forest selves and how often they'd had to survive Granny's scorn. She didn't have those pieces for him.

"Jefferson, right?" She'd heard bits and pieces from David, and even then, it had all been in the context of Regina and Snow and Emma and Henry. "Thanks for the help."

Edited 2016-07-30 00:47 (UTC)

Kirk had been there long enough that he had managed to make a small dent in the reading materials of the library, though it seemed that every book carried similar information in some format. He read them because it at least gave insight on certain ways of thinking, but he found most of the books to either be horribly biased or horribly incomplete in their knowledge. Taking it all with a grain of salt was the best route, but he found the adventure and fiction novels to be mildly entertaining.

On this particular visit, though, he was less trying to take things out than sneak something in, which meant he came in at a time when he knew few people would be within the stacks. He spied Jefferson within them, spied the way he rubbed at his hand - the way Kirk rubbed at his hand, which was currently bound in his customary wrappings to hide the gem. He didn't particularly need to anymore, but it had become a habit.

He considered leaving him be, but he had never seen the other before, and it raised his curiosity. One day it would kill him, he knew. But hopefully not this day.

"Hah, and here I thought I would be the only one here in the library at this hour," Kirk chuckled as he walked down the stacks towards Jefferson, an easy smile on his lips. "Need help finding anything interesting to read? A lot of it is kind of stale, unfortunately."

"Something you're lookin' for?"

Raylan just generally didn't like people a whole lot, at least not all the time, so he kept up the same habit as Jefferson, of visiting the library when there weren't many people in it. He'd noticed the man's strange manner of dress, the mark on his hand -- Raylan was coming to learn that rifters weren't very good at hiding that they were rifters. That didn't seem to matter to him, though, and he certainly wasn't chasing Jefferson away. He'd been parked at a table with a book the size of his torso for most of Jefferson's visit, an esoteric tome on magic at odds with the simple pants, shirt, and boots he wore. Raylan was offended enough at the sorry-ass state of the Skyhold library's organization to want to help out someone who was pecking around, who might be lost.

He had his reasons. It doesn't mean she's not holding a grudge. She's seen what he looks like when he's coming unhinged, and that sort of desperation can easily become dangerous. There's an understanding she finds in his actions now, something she pairs with the knowledge that there's no limit to the things she'd do to protect her son. He needs her back in Storybrooke, just like Jefferson has probably decided that his daughter needs him.

The difference is that she'll keep her word when she offers it, and when push comes to shove, that might come back to bite her if she picks the wrong team.

She finishes the remainder of her drink as he approaches, assuming she'll need that and more to get her through this conversation. He's the best resource she's aware of here, at least when it comes to adventures in portal-jumping. It'll take knowledge of other worlds to get back to their own, and magic - which she knows is available from other sources, but she also knows that her title comes with a few possibilities, too.

First thing's first, though. His question makes her sigh, and almost instantly wish she had another drink. "I found out everything's a work in progress. How about you?"

He's walking through the courtyard when he sees the man rubbing his hand and frowns. Some of the marks hurt, he's heard, and while he's not entirely certain he's welcome to speak up, Anders decides to do so anyway. Waiting for a welcome is a waste of time, really.

"I might be able to ease the pain a little, if it's bothering you. I'm a healer."

The benefit of approaching a Rifter, at least, is the lack of personal bias. He doesn't know Anders from Adam, so to speak, and he can't be suspicious of him for any of the usual reasons.

No. His suspicion is pretty much for everyone at any given time. Hurrah for paranoia.

Still. Healers are by and large pretty harmless, so Jefferson's less likely to scoot away on principle. Instead his brow furrows, his fingers curling into his palm and out again to stretch, as though that might aid the ache somehow. "Is it that common?"

"Should be comforting to know that everyone wants us gone so badly, there'll be little to no wait once they figure out how to send us back." The smile that tugs across his lips is far from amused. It vanishes quickly however, and he glances away with a weary noise.

"Magical research is a little more prominent here than it is in our world, but just as stigmatized. So progress is bound to be slow. We're not the first by a long shot, but the phenomenon is new. And related to those tears we saw those monsters coming through."

One hand lifts to wave down a passing bar maid. Emma's not the only one who'll need alcohol to get through this. What he wouldn't give for a shot at his cabinet back home.

"Might have found out a few things here and there."

Not that he'd say no to help, necessarily. But Jefferson was skittish in general, and help from strangers usually came with some kind of strings attached. Still, he flashes a pleasant enough smile at the man when he speaks up, some distance away.

Quiet as this place tends to be, voices carry.

"I'd say 'anything useful', but that's kind of a broad subject to start with, isn't it?" he replies with a vague, open gesture of his hands, his brow lifting archly.

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I'm one card short of a full deck, I'm not quite the shilling [open]

Outside the Tavern

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walking to or from tavern

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Library

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