WHO: Christine, Ellana, Tessa, Minka, & Julian WHAT: doing various things throughout the latter half of Cloudreach WHEN: Cloudreach 15th - Cloudreach 30th WHERE: The Gallows
Prompts are in comments so I only get notifs once.
{ I } While nobody's asking her to get up and work, Tessa finds she has to do something with her day, and Base Operations has a list of small tasks that need doing. One involves cleaning out one of the weapons' storage closets to separate serviceable weapons from broken ones. It's a monotonous task, and Tessa wishes this place had iPods so she'd have something to listen to. But she gets to work, separating weapons and scoffing at the size of some of them. Seriously, people who use mauls this size must be compensating for something. Those ones she has to drag out of the closet with some effort, and anyone could easily come across her struggling.
{ II } But if not then, they might find her at the Gallows' archery range later, after she finds a one-handed crossbow with bolts loaded into the side. It had reminded her of those old revolvers from westerns; the six shooters. And anything that reminds her of a gun (a weapon she was using just over two weeks ago) is something she wants to try. However, being her first time, she's not doing too hot. In fact, she's missing the target completely. Sighing, she lowers the weapon.
"Figures. Find a pseudo-gun and I blow at firing it."
Ignis is still working hard to ensure he has some semblance of fighting ability. Thedas is just as dangerous as Eos - and in more so in many cases - he cannot allow his lack of eyesight to render him helpless.
That means he spends a lot of time in the training grounds, and he happens to be near when he hears Tessa's vocal complaint. Her voice is familiar and he realizes he knows her from the crystals.
"I've a friend who successfully made the change from pistol to cross bow, perhaps I can ask him to impart some of his wisdom?" It's the same friend the discussed before - the one Ignis thinks would choose to stay in Thedas, though he doesn't reference that detail he imagines she might remember him discussing someone from home.
His voice is familiar too. It's been a smorgasbord of delightful accents since she arrived. She's pretty sure if she spots an Antivan in person that she'll jump their bones as soon as they say hello, and Ignis's accent is all refinement without sounding snooty.
"Hey, Ignis! See, I remembered!" Of course then she takes a good look at him and realizes that he's blind. Why did she have to use the word "see?" Her face grows hot as she winces, but thankfully she's spared him seeing that.
"Um, yeah. Your friend? That'd be great. Any help I can get, really. I'm sorta new to the whole weapons thing, but I don't want to lose what I've learned so far, you know?"
If he had, he would have made a comment about how she'd be surprised how much the colloquial relies on sight, but as it is she's spared the grammar lesson by asking being interested in learning.
"I can certainly relate. I've been training to regain some of what I lost myself." He doesn't wish to dwell on that though. "My friend is named Prompto. Have you had the pleasure of making his acquaintance?"
Whoa, a blind fighter? That is badass. If Tessa was blind, the first thing she'd do is trip over a chair and break her neck. The thought of fighting while blind? It doesn't even seem like a possibility should it happen to her.
"Prompto? No. I'd remember a name like that. What kind of gun was he used to?"
He's trying, anyway. Eventually he'll have his abilities back.
"A variety. He favored handguns and pistols, but he could use heavier machinery. He has one of them here, Lionheart. It came through one of the Rifts. It lacks ammunition, I'm afraid."
"Dude, he named his gun? I should have thought to do that." Missed opportunity right there! "Well, doesn't matter. I ran out of ammo and used it to beat a bunch of demons to death until it broke apart." As you do.
She lifts the crossbow in her hand and gives it a thoughtful look. "Though I've got this one-handed crossbow here. Maybe I could name it? If I ever get used to aiming it."
"Huh. I can see how I'd be less likely to give up on practicing if it had a name." Tessa's never really been one to name her cars or electronics, so this is new to her. And she's a bit lost on what to call it.
"I might need a little help. If it's up to me, I'll probably be dumb and name it after one of the Steelers." Wait. "That's a sports team where I'm from."
It's the loud clanking of metal that grabs his attention first. Then it's the obvious noise of something heavy being dragged across the floor. It's rather... ominous sounding. It reminds him of when the statues came to life in the Gallows or some of those red lyrium behemoths, so a little horrifying to hear - he really hopes that when he pops his head in he won't be hearing screeches or bull-rushed.
Poking his head around the corner, Sam gives a quiet sigh of relief that the source of the noises not what he was picturing. Though it did beg to question-
"What are you doing?" he asks, as he walks into the room, brows raised at the woman's obvious struggle.
"Urgh...grr..." Tessa grunts out as she tries dragging a heavy, two-handed maul over to the "good" pile of weapons. Pausing at the voice, she goes, "It's cool, dude. I got assigned weapon cataloging duty." She stops and lets the handle drop to the ground to take a break, stretching her back and turning towards the voice.
And then the color drains from her face and her arms drop to her sides. It only takes a moment for her to realize that this guy isn't Mike, but the realization is pretty crushing. His face shape, nose, and even sort of his eye shape all look similar to Mike's. Not a twin by far, but similar enough that she could see him as Mike's cousin.
Clearing her throat, she gestures to the weapon she's been struggling with, desperate to move on and not linger on how, for just a moment, she thought everything was just the way she wanted it: her in a world safely away from Earth with Mike here and safe too. That's wishful thinking and she can't put all her hopes on it.
"Seriously, people swing these things? Like we've got sledgehammers back home, but they're tiny compared to these."
"Weapon cataloging duty..." he repeats, brow still raised. It was definitely something needing to be done, but seemed like quite a lot to put on one person.
Whatever he might have said next is lost on his lips, as he notices how the color drains from the person's face and she seems to freeze when she looks at him. Sam's expression turns to one of concern as he stares back and then jerkily looks over his shoulder, wondering if there was something behind him - Maker he hopes not.
Nothing seems to be there.
Sam turns back around when he hears her start talking again, wondering what just happened. "Ah... yeah. Course only certain people are able to do that. Takes a lot of training... or unless you're a Qunari or something. Are... you ok?"
Wouldn't it have been freaky if there was? Tessa almost wishes there was so she'd have some excuse for her behavior. Because there's no way in Hell she's telling a stranger: "Sorry, for a second I thought you were this guy I may or may not be in love with from back home, but it's totally complicated because it's the zombie apocalypse and you don't just reveal feelings like that for someone while all this crazy shit is going on. Plus I'm guessing he had a wife -- or maybe a husband, shit, I don't know -- because he's super shady about his past and never once tried to get in my pants SO YEAH, complicated up in here." Sam should count himself lucky that he's free from her ramblings. Too bad she can't be free from her own brain.
"Yeah, I figured the 10 foot tall horned dudes could use this, but I haven't see any around except the one who uses magic." A pause. "Who's not a dude, but I call everyone 'dude.' Gender neutral." But it looks like he's seen through her clever tactic of not mentioning why she looked at him like he was a ghost, so she tries for casual. "Oh, pfft. Yeah, I'm good. It's, umm... I lifted my head too fast there. Got dizzy for a sec. All that blood rushing from my brain. You know."
If anything he'd be glad that he didn't get involved in a conversation on why said person didn't want to get into her pants. That sounded like a dangerous subject to get into with so many weapons around.
"Ah," he says simply at the 'dude' explanation. It wasn't the first time he's heard the word, but that cleared it up a bit more. "You sure you don't want to sit down then? I could get you a glass of water. Getting dizzy like that isn't good." His expression is definitely one of concern then, now worried it was a health issue and here she was dragging heavy weapons that would give anyone trouble.
Now, now, Tessa's got a good head on her shoulders... except for those times where she sort of sees red and goes into a rage and slaughters zombies until someone has to shout at her that they're dead now. But how often does that happen, right?
Spoiler alert: it's already happened once since arriving here, only it was a demon, not a zombie.
"Man, you're sweet." Why does he have to remind her of Mike and be sweet? Like sweeter than Mike was on first meeting. "I don't need anything, thanks. I'm good." By she does sigh down at the weapon she's dragging and pauses to crack her knuckles.
"Though if you aren't busy, do you think you could give me a hand with this one? Like, it is really ridiculously oversized. I'm just trying to move it over here."
"... Thank you?" He's certainly been told that, he was nice, but there's something about how she says it that sounds like there more to her saying that, it wasn't just a compliment.
"Hm," he hums, looking down at the maul as she asks for help - obviously after saying she didn't need anything. "As tempting as it is to say I am busy so I don't have to pick that up," he says with a bit of a lopsided smile as he teases, walking closer to grab the shaft of the weapon as he does so. Spacing his hands out on different parts of it he manages, with some noise, to pick it up high enough to move it without leaving more lines in the floor. He's leaned back and to the side to balance as he waddles the couple feet to the pile, where he tries to carefully set it down.
A bit red in the face himself, he lets out a long sigh and rubs his forehead. "Name's Samouel by the way."
She doesn't need anything water related, but she does need someone with big guns to move this stupid weapon. To her, those things don't fall under the same help umbrella.
"Tessa," she responds, cracking a smile at how even he struggled with it. "These must be one hit killers. If they're this freaking heavy just to lift, imagine the impact when someone swings it at you."
"... Let me guess, you've never held a weapon in your life." James drawls from behind her, arms crossed over his armored chest as he gives her The Driest Look Possible. "I am pleased you seem to know where the pointy ends are, but perhaps we might work on not dulling them all by dragging them across the floor?"
Honestly, who were these people that the Inquisition kept sending into his armory? Like a mad bunch of country bumpkins.
Looking up, Tessa's brow furrows at the guy giving her lip. She's close to giving him some attitude right back, but reminds herself that it's her first day and she's had to suck up to people at her crappy minimum wage jobs before. This is no different.
"Back home we have guns," she starts mildly as she turns around, turning out her hand to show the green glow from her palm. "Still, I've beaten zombies to death with baseball bats, fence posts, whatever I could find. But no, we don't have weapons like these there anymore." Sheepishly, she approaches, hand fishing a folded up piece of parchment from her back pocket. Tessa's loathe to give up her jeans here, though she's had to wash them a couple times already so she doesn't become 'that smelly Rifter.' Eventually she should look into fitting in better, but it'll be a process to dress in Thedas style clothes. She's not sure if this guy is a random passerby or someone of authority, but she decides to play it safe as she hands the parchment over.
"Sorry if I screwed up. My orders say I'm supposed to clean this closet out to see which weapons are broken and which can be looked at. I was under the impression they were all dull but... it's my first day." So please, please go easy on her.
The word 'guns' was all he needed to hear. She was a Rifter, and Rifters had a mixed history on whether or not they had control over weapons like this. His arms unfolded, as he took the parchment from her. He nodded his head for a moment. "My apologies, serah. I was unaware they sent down another person to help with our older weaponry."
A wry expression took over his face, "Which would have been nice to know, considering I run the armory, but still. I never turn down willing help."
He nodded towards the closet where she is pulling weapons out of. "These particular items have already been sorted out. I'm going to have them melted down to be used for other things. However, we do have a pile of weapons that have come fresh from our latest campaign that do need to be sorted."
He started to easily picking up the weapons, carrying them back to the closet. "So after we clean this up, if you would be so kind as to follow me?"
Oh, nice. So this is the dude she should be reporting to on this job. Good thing she kept her cool. Following him in his task of putting back her mess, she replies, "Yeah, totally. I'm Tessa. What's your name?" Because she really should know who to report to in future if she has to do something of this nature again.
James neatly stacked the items back, but did pause to offer his hand to the young woman. It is calloused, covered in ink and faint scars, a warrior who did a lot of paperwork. "Knight Commander James Norrington. However, just call me Norrington."
She takes the hand without looking too closely at it, but the feel of his callouses has her looking down for a closer inspection. The ink stains are sort of amusing, until she reminds herself that they don't have easily disposable pens in plastic casings here. They probably get a lot of ink blots. For her part, her hand seems typical for a young woman, though more banged up than one might expect. The pad of her palm under her thumb is calloused and there are several still pink scars along the back of her hand. Her knuckles have some nicks too, and there are a few random splotchy scars near her cuticles from her job as a cleaner, and the harsh chemicals seeping through the cheap gloves to burn her skin.
"Norrington, got it. You a last name kinda guy? You could call me MacKenzie if you want." Though not Mac. That's what people called her dad, and she feels like it should be reserved for him.
"Knight Commander sounds pretty badass, if you don't mind me saying so." Yeah, she's still trying to be semi-polite in an effort to not screw up her first day. It's hard to know if he's literally her superior or not, but it'd be for the best to not cause trouble, especially as a Rifter.
He's not entirely certain why a lady's hands would have such marks and scars, so he has to conclude that she came from a working class family. She also seemed to be some sort of warrior - or at least someone who did not back away from a fight. Good they needed more people like that.
"For those working with me, yes. Anything else has to be earned, Mackenzie. As I have to earn your respect in turn." He stated simply standing back.
His mouth twitches up at the corners, "It is, actually. I am the ...de-facto representative of the Templars for the Inquisition. I am also the Head of the Armory."
If someone were to call Tessa a warrior, she'd laugh. She's a short little thing who's somehow lucked out and managed to stay alive. The truth is, she is a warrior of a kind, but she doesn't recognize it in herself. At least not yet.
"Oh, ok." She nods her head as if she understands, and does take a second to wrack her brain to recall if she's heard the name before.
Nope. Nothing. Wait-- maybe something from history? Or the movies? But neither of those apply here.
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{ tessa }
{ I }
While nobody's asking her to get up and work, Tessa finds she has to do something with her day, and Base Operations has a list of small tasks that need doing. One involves cleaning out one of the weapons' storage closets to separate serviceable weapons from broken ones. It's a monotonous task, and Tessa wishes this place had iPods so she'd have something to listen to. But she gets to work, separating weapons and scoffing at the size of some of them. Seriously, people who use mauls this size must be compensating for something. Those ones she has to drag out of the closet with some effort, and anyone could easily come across her struggling.
{ II }
But if not then, they might find her at the Gallows' archery range later, after she finds a one-handed crossbow with bolts loaded into the side. It had reminded her of those old revolvers from westerns; the six shooters. And anything that reminds her of a gun (a weapon she was using just over two weeks ago) is something she wants to try. However, being her first time, she's not doing too hot. In fact, she's missing the target completely. Sighing, she lowers the weapon.
"Figures. Find a pseudo-gun and I blow at firing it."
ii
That means he spends a lot of time in the training grounds, and he happens to be near when he hears Tessa's vocal complaint. Her voice is familiar and he realizes he knows her from the crystals.
"I've a friend who successfully made the change from pistol to cross bow, perhaps I can ask him to impart some of his wisdom?" It's the same friend the discussed before - the one Ignis thinks would choose to stay in Thedas, though he doesn't reference that detail he imagines she might remember him discussing someone from home.
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"Hey, Ignis! See, I remembered!" Of course then she takes a good look at him and realizes that he's blind. Why did she have to use the word "see?" Her face grows hot as she winces, but thankfully she's spared him seeing that.
"Um, yeah. Your friend? That'd be great. Any help I can get, really. I'm sorta new to the whole weapons thing, but I don't want to lose what I've learned so far, you know?"
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"I can certainly relate. I've been training to regain some of what I lost myself." He doesn't wish to dwell on that though. "My friend is named Prompto. Have you had the pleasure of making his acquaintance?"
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"Prompto? No. I'd remember a name like that. What kind of gun was he used to?"
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"A variety. He favored handguns and pistols, but he could use heavier machinery. He has one of them here, Lionheart. It came through one of the Rifts. It lacks ammunition, I'm afraid."
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She lifts the crossbow in her hand and gives it a thoughtful look. "Though I've got this one-handed crossbow here. Maybe I could name it? If I ever get used to aiming it."
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"Practice makes perfect," he replies. "Perhaps naming it will help you feel more connected to it?" A pause. "It certainly can't hurt."
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"I might need a little help. If it's up to me, I'll probably be dumb and name it after one of the Steelers." Wait. "That's a sports team where I'm from."
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I
Poking his head around the corner, Sam gives a quiet sigh of relief that the source of the noises not what he was picturing. Though it did beg to question-
"What are you doing?" he asks, as he walks into the room, brows raised at the woman's obvious struggle.
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And then the color drains from her face and her arms drop to her sides. It only takes a moment for her to realize that this guy isn't Mike, but the realization is pretty crushing. His face shape, nose, and even sort of his eye shape all look similar to Mike's. Not a twin by far, but similar enough that she could see him as Mike's cousin.
Clearing her throat, she gestures to the weapon she's been struggling with, desperate to move on and not linger on how, for just a moment, she thought everything was just the way she wanted it: her in a world safely away from Earth with Mike here and safe too. That's wishful thinking and she can't put all her hopes on it.
"Seriously, people swing these things? Like we've got sledgehammers back home, but they're tiny compared to these."
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Whatever he might have said next is lost on his lips, as he notices how the color drains from the person's face and she seems to freeze when she looks at him. Sam's expression turns to one of concern as he stares back and then jerkily looks over his shoulder, wondering if there was something behind him - Maker he hopes not.
Nothing seems to be there.
Sam turns back around when he hears her start talking again, wondering what just happened. "Ah... yeah. Course only certain people are able to do that. Takes a lot of training... or unless you're a Qunari or something. Are... you ok?"
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"Yeah, I figured the 10 foot tall horned dudes could use this, but I haven't see any around except the one who uses magic." A pause. "Who's not a dude, but I call everyone 'dude.' Gender neutral." But it looks like he's seen through her clever tactic of not mentioning why she looked at him like he was a ghost, so she tries for casual. "Oh, pfft. Yeah, I'm good. It's, umm... I lifted my head too fast there. Got dizzy for a sec. All that blood rushing from my brain. You know."
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"Ah," he says simply at the 'dude' explanation. It wasn't the first time he's heard the word, but that cleared it up a bit more. "You sure you don't want to sit down then? I could get you a glass of water. Getting dizzy like that isn't good." His expression is definitely one of concern then, now worried it was a health issue and here she was dragging heavy weapons that would give anyone trouble.
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Spoiler alert: it's already happened once since arriving here, only it was a demon, not a zombie.
"Man, you're sweet." Why does he have to remind her of Mike and be sweet? Like sweeter than Mike was on first meeting. "I don't need anything, thanks. I'm good." By she does sigh down at the weapon she's dragging and pauses to crack her knuckles.
"Though if you aren't busy, do you think you could give me a hand with this one? Like, it is really ridiculously oversized. I'm just trying to move it over here."
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"Hm," he hums, looking down at the maul as she asks for help - obviously after saying she didn't need anything. "As tempting as it is to say I am busy so I don't have to pick that up," he says with a bit of a lopsided smile as he teases, walking closer to grab the shaft of the weapon as he does so. Spacing his hands out on different parts of it he manages, with some noise, to pick it up high enough to move it without leaving more lines in the floor. He's leaned back and to the side to balance as he waddles the couple feet to the pile, where he tries to carefully set it down.
A bit red in the face himself, he lets out a long sigh and rubs his forehead. "Name's Samouel by the way."
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"Tessa," she responds, cracking a smile at how even he struggled with it. "These must be one hit killers. If they're this freaking heavy just to lift, imagine the impact when someone swings it at you."
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Re: { tessa }
Honestly, who were these people that the Inquisition kept sending into his armory? Like a mad bunch of country bumpkins.
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"Back home we have guns," she starts mildly as she turns around, turning out her hand to show the green glow from her palm. "Still, I've beaten zombies to death with baseball bats, fence posts, whatever I could find. But no, we don't have weapons like these there anymore." Sheepishly, she approaches, hand fishing a folded up piece of parchment from her back pocket. Tessa's loathe to give up her jeans here, though she's had to wash them a couple times already so she doesn't become 'that smelly Rifter.' Eventually she should look into fitting in better, but it'll be a process to dress in Thedas style clothes. She's not sure if this guy is a random passerby or someone of authority, but she decides to play it safe as she hands the parchment over.
"Sorry if I screwed up. My orders say I'm supposed to clean this closet out to see which weapons are broken and which can be looked at. I was under the impression they were all dull but... it's my first day." So please, please go easy on her.
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A wry expression took over his face, "Which would have been nice to know, considering I run the armory, but still. I never turn down willing help."
He nodded towards the closet where she is pulling weapons out of. "These particular items have already been sorted out. I'm going to have them melted down to be used for other things. However, we do have a pile of weapons that have come fresh from our latest campaign that do need to be sorted."
He started to easily picking up the weapons, carrying them back to the closet. "So after we clean this up, if you would be so kind as to follow me?"
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"Norrington, got it. You a last name kinda guy? You could call me MacKenzie if you want." Though not Mac. That's what people called her dad, and she feels like it should be reserved for him.
"Knight Commander sounds pretty badass, if you don't mind me saying so." Yeah, she's still trying to be semi-polite in an effort to not screw up her first day. It's hard to know if he's literally her superior or not, but it'd be for the best to not cause trouble, especially as a Rifter.
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"For those working with me, yes. Anything else has to be earned, Mackenzie. As I have to earn your respect in turn." He stated simply standing back.
His mouth twitches up at the corners, "It is, actually. I am the ...de-facto representative of the Templars for the Inquisition. I am also the Head of the Armory."
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"Oh, ok." She nods her head as if she understands, and does take a second to wrack her brain to recall if she's heard the name before.
Nope. Nothing. Wait-- maybe something from history? Or the movies? But neither of those apply here.
"Er, What are the Templars?"
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