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.
"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."
"Tessa," he says in greeting, letting out a sigh and wiping at his forehead. "Yes, you're very unfortunate if you get hit by one of these, but they also lack accuracy. The weight doesn't allow it to be lifted up and aimed, but rather swung in an arch. A lot of times you just get hurt by the debris it kicks up.
So you're sorting the weapons... and then what? Were you supposed to take them someplace?"
"Well I'll count myself lucky to never have been in the path of one, bad aim or not." She doesn't want to picture zombies who carry weapons. That would just be far too much to handle. And surely she'll never run into enemies with mauls here, right?
"Oh, yeah. The good ones to the blacksmith's forge and the bad ones left here for the next shift to deal with. I think they're gonna melt them down or something, but they want the good ones separate from the bad, so brought in at different times, I guess?"
Oh Tessa. There is undead with weapons, and creatures who carry things far worse then mauls. Pray hope you never encounter them.
That certainly peeks Sam's interest a bit more. "Sounds like they're all going down to the forge for different reasons. Sooo, the maul is... in which pile?" Honestly he wants to know why the weapons are even in this room to begin with, but that's something he knows Tessa wouldn't know.
"Oh, right. Hmm." She contemplates the heavy ass maul for a moment. "It looks pretty good. Handle's still firmly attached. Only has a few dings in the metal. I think it can go it the group that's gonna be tweaked and used again."
But after saying so, her face contorts to an expression of slight unease. "Does that sound right? Like, I'm no weapons expert. But it sounds good, right?" The second guessing is starting to flare up in her. It's so hard to make decisions, especially between two options. Tessa will just keep going back and forth, unsatisfied with both choices.
Sam chuckles at that, not to be mean, but it is a bit amusing at how much thought Tessa is giving it.
"I can tell you with good confidence that the maul is in 'pretty good' shape. Honestly it doesn't even need any work done unless they want it sharpened and polished for looks, but seriously it'll do it's job just fine as is." Looking at the piles Sam gives a sigh and rubs his head. "I don't know why they're having you do all this here. It would've been better just to bring it all down and have us in the forge separate it ourselves."
"Us? You're a blacksmith guy?" Well, isn't this convenient! Maybe she can con him get him to help assist her in this endeavor. "Dude, I know, right? It seems kinda like busywork? But I didn't want to say anything and make waves. It's my first day working here." But he seems like the type of guy she can confide to about this. As a blacksmith, he'd want to know they were getting a bunch of old weapons coming in to be serviced, right?
No, not really, unless they were possessed or something, then he'd want to know. Otherwise having the Inquisition just drop stuff on them to fix up wasn't unusual.
"Yes. I am a blacksmith 'guy'. And that does sound like busywork, but now it makes a bit more sense. First day, huh? Sounds like they needed to give you something to do while they figure something permanent." Instead of wandering around. "I take it you're one of our new arrivals then?" he asks, leaning over and grabbing a sword of the floor and giving a once over.
"Yeeeah, guess so. I can't say I mind it? Like I didn't really have a lot of skills that'd be useful in other projects, or I just wasn't interested in them. So this is good for me. I might get training in something more specialized later, but they don't have the trainers for things right now. Sorta short staffed, the way I hear it." She shrugs and moves to help him by picking up another sword. It's a bit too heavy to hold comfortably in one hand. Must need two.
"Yup. Total newbie. I'm still trying to learn where everything is. I haven't even been in the city yet. Quarantine and all."
"Well... can't say you're missing a whole lot." Kirkwall was... Kirkwall after all, and even after this long Sam still had a bias against it; small city that still managed to have huge amounts of problems.
"You seem to getting along well if you're already signed up for things and running errands. Often took a lot longer for some to get accustomed. That being said, where are you from?"
"That a fact? Is it also the City that Falls Asleep at 10pm? That's my hometown." Which is obviously an inside joke that she doesn't bother to explain. "I'm just trying to keep busy or else I'll start getting twitchy." Yeah, being without constant internet and stuff was bad, but she was always on the move and trying to survive after the zombies turned up. Here she's just sitting and waiting for new rifts to appear.
"Earth. Which I guess is common. But like, an alternate Earth to other people's, I think. Either that, or they're in for a rude awakening in their futures." Very cryptic. Much wow. "But yeah, the United States. Pittsburgh, to be specific." Which is why she has this lovely accent that sounds like someone from Boston and someone from West Virginia had angry sex in the back of a van. Trust the narrator: it's very distinct.
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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."
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
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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So you're sorting the weapons... and then what? Were you supposed to take them someplace?"
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"Oh, yeah. The good ones to the blacksmith's forge and the bad ones left here for the next shift to deal with. I think they're gonna melt them down or something, but they want the good ones separate from the bad, so brought in at different times, I guess?"
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That certainly peeks Sam's interest a bit more. "Sounds like they're all going down to the forge for different reasons. Sooo, the maul is... in which pile?" Honestly he wants to know why the weapons are even in this room to begin with, but that's something he knows Tessa wouldn't know.
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But after saying so, her face contorts to an expression of slight unease. "Does that sound right? Like, I'm no weapons expert. But it sounds good, right?" The second guessing is starting to flare up in her. It's so hard to make decisions, especially between two options. Tessa will just keep going back and forth, unsatisfied with both choices.
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"I can tell you with good confidence that the maul is in 'pretty good' shape. Honestly it doesn't even need any work done unless they want it sharpened and polished for looks, but seriously it'll do it's job just fine as is." Looking at the piles Sam gives a sigh and rubs his head. "I don't know why they're having you do all this here. It would've been better just to bring it all down and have us in the forge separate it ourselves."
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con himget him to help assist her in this endeavor. "Dude, I know, right? It seems kinda like busywork? But I didn't want to say anything and make waves. It's my first day working here." But he seems like the type of guy she can confide to about this. As a blacksmith, he'd want to know they were getting a bunch of old weapons coming in to be serviced, right?no subject
"Yes. I am a blacksmith 'guy'. And that does sound like busywork, but now it makes a bit more sense. First day, huh? Sounds like they needed to give you something to do while they figure something permanent." Instead of wandering around. "I take it you're one of our new arrivals then?" he asks, leaning over and grabbing a sword of the floor and giving a once over.
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"Yup. Total newbie. I'm still trying to learn where everything is. I haven't even been in the city yet. Quarantine and all."
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"You seem to getting along well if you're already signed up for things and running errands. Often took a lot longer for some to get accustomed. That being said, where are you from?"
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"Earth. Which I guess is common. But like, an alternate Earth to other people's, I think. Either that, or they're in for a rude awakening in their futures." Very cryptic. Much wow. "But yeah, the United States. Pittsburgh, to be specific." Which is why she has this lovely accent that sounds like someone from Boston and someone from West Virginia had angry sex in the back of a van. Trust the narrator: it's very distinct.