faderift | ssssssomeBODY ONCE TOLD ME

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ssssssomeBODY ONCE TOLD ME

WHO: Prompto, a cat, jerk natives and YOU
WHAT: Monthly shenanigans for the month
WHEN: Throughout the month of Harvestmere
WHERE: Throughout Kirkwall
NOTES: Minor violence

A) Stalker in the Gallows

Errands in the Gallows had started off solo, but at some point in the afternoon, Prompto realizes he isn't alone.

A black cat with white paws stalks him as he went out and about his business, running reports to and fro. And everywhere he goes, the cat trots behind him. At first, Prompto figures the cat would get bored and run back home, but after about an hour of this going on, he realizes that didn't seem to be the case.

Finally he stops to face the feline, brow raised as it comes to a stop, tail swaying as it looks up at him. "You lost there, buddy?"

It meows.

He bends down and holds out his hand, letting the cat walk up and take a tentative sniff before it rubs its face against his hand. Aww, cute kitty. Prompto scratches its ears, smiling as it purrs. All the while, though, he looks around, wondering whose cat this was. "Anyone missing a cat? Think this one got lost." Seems friendly enough, at least, which makes him think it was a house cat and not feral.

He didn't know it yet, but he's now a pet owner. The cat chose, and it's chosen him.

B) Tension in Lowtown

So, glares and mutters as people turn away aren't uncommon, but these days, it seems to have gotten worse. What used to be just poorly concealed looks of suspicion have turned to outright disdain, and he's been refused service more than once. It stings, but Prompto chalks it up to just uneasiness. Maybe something went down that he's not aware of.

Normally the natives aren't violent, just cross. But things turn sour one night when Prompto tries to enter a tavern for a quick drink and bite to eat. Before he can even enter, some drunk patrons loitering outside spot him. One grabs him by the shoulder and shoves him back. "They don't serve your kind here. And you ain't wanted anyway."

"Just a guy who wants a drink. Don't know what you-"

The man surges forward and shoves him again, this time hard enough to send him to the ground. "I know what you are, you festerin' demon scum! Take another step and I'll knock your bloody ass back to the Fade where you crawled out of!"

Prompto glares at him, looking torn between just walking away and standing his ground. Help him decide?

C) Drinks in a Non-Shitty Tavern

Eventually he finds a tavern that's not full of shit people. Or maybe they just don't know he's with the Inquisition. Whatever the reason, Prompto finally manages to have a drink in peace. He leans his head in his hand, swirling his drink round in the glass before taking another sip. He's taken a shine to the ale served around Kirkwall. Or maybe his taste buds have gone so dead he doesn't mind anymore. It could really be either or.

He's sitting alone, and being an extrovert, Prompto is always in want of company. If he knows you and spots you, he'll grin and wave you over, lifting his drink in invitation.

D) Wildcard

Hit me with your own prompt(o)!

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The tavern wasn't really his thing - it was back in Skyhold because it was really the only social place late at night with a fire - but Sam passed plenty of them on the way home after a shift at either the blacksmith or healing. Seeing a fight wasn't so unusual at these places and normally Sam didn't pay much mind to them; except for cases when it looked like it could get deadly or when someone with the Inquisition was involved.

Sam was already walking over, but when the second shove came his pace quickened and his shoulders squaring in anger.

"Back off!"

He doesn't touch the drunk, but purposefully places himself between the men and Prompto, his eyes narrowed. Normally Sam was someone who came in calm and tried to deescalate a situation, but after a long day of work and having to deal with similar idiocy, he was reaching his limit.

After a moment he chances a look back and offers Prompto a hand to help him up. "You alright?"

While he doesn't advertise it, Anders knows most of the cats in the Gallows. He knows which ones like their tums rubbed, which ones will follow you around, which ones purr the loudest, and, most importantly, which ones don't have owners. At the question, Anders turns around and looks the indicated cat over before giving Prompto a faint smile.

"Not lost. That one doesn't have an owner." A beat, and then he looks at the way the cat's looking at Prompto. "Except, perhaps, until today."

Ellana often sits in shadows, watching people go by as part of her training to be a better and more stealthy scout, and this spot of the Gallows is perfect to take note of peoples' routines and schedules. The cat is new, however, and she watches Prompto offer a hand before she comes forward to hear his question.

"Not mine," she answers. "Must be a stray."

And then ... an elf burst out of the alley beside them, gasping for breath. "Oh Maker, I have to get the harbor master! Rivain brandy bottles all over the damned place!" He paused, going to the first human who looked the angriest. "Excuse me, serah, can you tell me where the harbor master is? A shipment of Rivain brandy has just broken open and there are bottles all over the place - most unbroken! I need to find him now or it will be my head!"

Korrin sees what's happening as she strides over to the tavern, and doesn't hesitate to quicken her step, narrowing her eyes at the men. The thought of them singling Prompto out like that -and that they could do so to Araceli- makes her blood boil.

"Hey! You have a problem with him, you have a problem with me! And trust me, you don't want that." She puts herself before her shorter human friend, giving these assholes the full strength of her glare.

Prompto's leaning more towards just backing off - he's never been much of a fighter in all honesty - when he hears a booming voice, followed by a tall figure coming in between him and the men. There stands Korrin, ready to knock some heads together, from the look of things.

The drunk men seem to understand that, too, as the one who was previously up in Prompto's business takes a step back. "A - Ain't none of your business, ox lady." He's trying to sound tough, though it's not terribly convincing. Partly because his words slur together, and partly because, well, he's staring down a woman who's got a foot on him and has horns.

Bless people like Sam who come to the rescue, because Prompto seems good at getting himself into these sorts of messes. Maybe it's the hair. Maybe he just has "I'm a marshmallow who's not always good at sticking up for himself" written all over him. Whatever the reason, it keeps happening.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he says, getting to his feet.

Meanwhile, the drunk snorts, eyeing Sam critically. Liquid courage is a hell of a drug. "And what are ya gonna do 'bout it? You gon' take on me and my mates here?"

"Really? I mean, it seems pretty - wait, what?" Prompto looks baffled at Anders's assessment. Okay, sure, Pryna took to him well when he took care of her for awhile, but she needed help. This guy just waltzed up to him and started following him around! "You serious?"

The cat purrs, butting its head against Prompto's leg.

Has he seen her around before? She... looks familiar? Maybe? Ugh, he's never been great with faces, and there are so many around here. But this is definitely the first time they've spoken, he knows that much.

"Seems like it. Just seems awfully friendly to be a street cat. Most don't go near you, let alone follow you around, unless you have food." Which he most decidedly does not.

The drunk man blinks twice, his alcohol-addled brain trying to comprehend what's going on here. Then he snarls and shoves the elf back. "Get off, knife ear! Harbor master's by the bloody dock, where else would he be?"

Prompto slowly gets to his feet, trying to signal to the elf to go elsewhere. These people are not nice, and he doesn't want to see someone else earn this man's ire for just being in his general vicinity.

"It could be a house cat that got out, but usually those can find their way home again." Coming up to the pair, Ellana gets down on her haunches to allow the cat to sniff her fingers too. "Maybe it's a stray that was getting fed by someone, but that person is gone. It seems like it's chosen you to be the new food-giver."

"No, no where does he live? He doesn't live at the docks!" The elf went to each man, grabbing them by the arm, and getting shoved away in turn. "I mean - how would that make sense? Why would the harbor master live at the harbor? That would make as much sense as letting someone take your weapons off of you."

The elf leaned against the wall, and then pulled out one of the man's cudgel's. "Oh right .... well then I guess it makes just as much sense as an elf that has knives."

He threw the cudgel up and away, and pulled out two blades from behind his back, and gestured to the men, his smile as sharp as their edges. "Then I guess it makes as much sense as me telling you all to piss off before I see if I can line you up and spell 'Knife Ear' on your bleeding carcasses."

Once Prompto is on his feet, Sam makes a point of giving him a quick once over, just checking if he was actually alright. Besides some dirt and scrapes, perhaps some bruised pride, it did indeed look like nothing too serious had happened. Yet.

Sam gives a sigh, turning his attention back to the drunk, still making sure that his slightly larger frame was between them and Prompto. His eyes dart around for a moment, taking in exactly how many 'mates' the man has with him, but it doesn't seem to deter Sam in the slightest when they settle back on the one talking. Liquid courage indeed; probably helped that he didn't appear armed in the slightest as well.

"I'd rather not send anyone to the infirmary. You and your mates best just leave and get some air, serrah."

Her glare not wavering in the slightest, Korrin's tempted to conjure a flame just to mess with him. However, even inebriated there's a chance he'll remember that, and she's not interested in making life worse for her fellow mages. But she doesn't need magic to respond to bullies, instead getting right in the face of the ringleader.

"You say that again, and I'll headbutt you. Now, get lost."

Getting waved over by Prompto! Fellow Rifter! Yes, good, company is always good. Church slides into the seat next to the kiddo. "Sup, you look all contemplative-y."

"And she'll do it horns first, bud," Prompto chimes in. "Last guy she did it to was in the infirmary for weeks. Still isn't the same..."

Totally made up, of course, but the drunk and his gang seem to buy it. The man scoffs but backs up, gesturing for his mates to follow him, muttering something about "bloody ox women" and "demons".

As they leave, Prompto lets out a rush of breath. "Geez. Thanks for stepping in."

There are five in total, including the man who shoved Prompto and thinks taking on Sam is a smart idea. So not insurmountable, especially given their inebriated state.

Some of the others seem to agree with Sam. It's one thing to pick on a rifter by himself, but it's another when there's a big guy around now to stick up for him and promise a fair amount of pain. One grabs the ring leader by the elbow and tries to pull him back, but he shoves the man off and puffs up his chest.

"This is our city. And we ain't gonna stand for your bloody demons and Inquisition lot coming here and telling us what to do." To emphasize his point, he spits at Sam's feet.

Prompto peers around Sam, making a face at the guy. "Really, dude?"

The cat steps over and sniffs at her hand. After contemplation, it decides that Ellana is Worthy and rubs its head against her hand.

"I'd hate to take someone's cat, but..." Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he just tried taking him in? Even if just for a little while? "Can try asking around and see if anyone's missing it. Him. Her. I... haven't looked under its skirt to see."

The guy's slick, Prompto has to give him that. He didn't even notice right away what was going on, not until he had gotten around to all of them. Of course, he says nothing, waiting to see how the men react before doing anything.

For their part, the drunken men stare in shock as they find themselves divested of weapons and with blades being drawn on them. It's a toss up between their lives and letting an elf get the better of them, or risking their safety and not letting it slide. Most of the men swallow their pride and back off, but the one that shoved Prompto seems to still debate it. "You blasted-"

"If you think I won't help him, think again," Prompto warns him. "You tough enough to take two on at once?"

One of the other men rolls his eyes and grabs his mate, muttering at him to come on and drags him off. Prompto breathes out a sigh of relief as the men lurch down the street.

"Hey, thanks for that."

"Do I?" Eh, that's a fair assessment. "Maybe a little. Lot happened lately, you know?" He waves the bartender over so Church can order a drink.

You get used to Thedosian ale when you live here long enough and also don't have much to compare it to. "Yeah, I hear that. Fuck that island, for one thing. You doing okay though?"

There's that temptation to literally shock them, but Korrin lets it slide as she turns to Prompto with a smirk. "No problem. I've dealt with pond scum like that countless times before. They talk a tough game, but most of them would go down in one hit. What say we get a drink to move on from their crap?"

Adasse didn't put the blades away until he heard their foot falls fade away, and then he pulled out his satchel and put all their weapons within. Hey, a profit was a profit, after all.

He grinned up at Prompto. "Hey, members of the Inquisition got to watch each other's backs, eh?"

In the man's drunken state the spit doesn't even make it to Sam's boot, but the action still earns him a non-amused stare. "Well... that certainly showed me," he drawls lightly before letting out a long sigh, mentally scolding himself that he shouldn't be antagonizing the drunk. Even so he isn't just going to back down since doing so would only fuel the drunks' self-righteousness.

"Have you actually seen a demon, serrah?" His eyes narrow and his tone is snappish, and despite asking a question he doesn't stop to let the man answer. "How about men driven mad and tortured from the inside out, transformed into monstrosities because of blood red lyrium? I have; not a pretty sight. They're both starting to spread across the Free Marches. The only reason you're able to go around drinking with your mates is because our 'bloody demons and Inquisition' are preventing it from coming to your city."

"Asking around would be good, just to be sure," she says, smiling at the cat accepting her and showing affection. "Are you going to take a look, so when you ask if someone's missing a cat, you can say whether it's male or female?"

Go on, Prompto, determine the sex of this cat. Ellana will look away if you want.

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