faderift | [Open] chillin and killin

Entry tags:

[Open] chillin and killin

WHO: Resa and you??
WHAT: Working hard or hardly working
WHEN: Now
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: None.

1.) Training

It has, by this point, come to Resa's attention that, perhaps, she should be at least a little more able when it comes to defending herself. And after all of the Rifter Bullshit™ that's been going down, she's more sure than ever that it's wiser to keep any magical abilities to herself. Which means that she's going to have to learn how to use some kind of weapon.

It makes sense, but is harder than she'd expected in practice.

In the training area, she eyes the available practice weapons, reaches for a sword, then winces before actually touching it, like there was something about the sword she found physically repellant. Fucking iron. Steel was better, but only barely, not enough to touch it. A bow manages to be able to be held, but her attempt to fire an arrow ends with the arrow cluttering sadly to the ground.

"I miss guns.” She mumbles, cranky and suddenly worried that she's well and truly fucked regarding her ability to kill things.

2.) Important tanning work

Resa has, technically, signed up for diplomacy, but with all the nonsense going down, has yet to find any work that truly interests her.

Which, naturally, means she has yet to do any true work. And while she can fake productivity with the best of them, the day is far too nice to put forth such effort.

Instead, she finds a lovely patch of sun in the courtyard, lays out a blanket and pillows, fetches herself a lemonade with a little umbrella in it, and promptly begins lounging. After, of course, putting lotion on. It's not sunscreen, but whatever. Close enough.

After all, surely she's earned a self care day.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lounging about is one thing— a thing that Alexandrie truly and deeply respects— but why why why would someone with this woman's lovely complexion ruin it by purposefully subjecting it to the sun?

The rift shard glimmering in her hand gives some clue as to the origin of this phenomenon. Obviously she's not from here. Perhaps in her world the darkening of her skin is a mark of something besides having to labor in it. Good news, someone's here to put a stop to that nonsense.

"A truly lovely afternoon, is it not?" asks Alexandrie, who is both returning from the diplomacy offices and very obviously gloved, hatted, and wearing a thin gauzy scarf wound around said hat which eventually makes its way around to cover the bareness of her shoulders. There is also a slightly larger parasol involved than the one currently adorning the other woman's drink.

Fun fact: at some point in time, the Inquisition received a box of particularly ugly dad sunglasses, and it was only natural and right that a pair of them made their way to Resa. They are currently being used to protect her eyes, but when she's approached by one of the natives, Resa flips them up to rest on her forehead as she flashes a dazzling grin at Alexandrie.

"It surely is. I wish we had a pool in this place, or a real beach. This would be great beach weather. And that'd be left would be inventing bikinis and trunks." Pause. "Those are clothes people wear swimming, where I'm from." She would kill for a bikini--possibly literally, don't test her.

"But you guys have pools, right? That's what this place really needs, I think. Get people to relax a little. Also, your skin tans better when its wet. And I'm afraid I might contract like. Five diseases if I swim in the harbor."

Even the thought of swimming anywhere near the Gallows makes Alexandrie physically shudder. The Very Idea. Swimming in general, however, somewhere nice and cool and shady and not extremely probably full of refuse, sounds divine.

"Perhaps a trip might be arranged to Lake Celestine at some juncture for some proper swimming," she says with a half-voiced sigh, "or a diplomatic mission to Antiva City." Would it be too much to ask for there to be some sort of incident for the Inquisition to take care of in a place where one can take proper leisure?

"Is it fashionable then, where you are from, to let your skin tan?" Alexandrie asks curiously, gesturing at a patch of unoccupied space on the blanket: may I?

"Hey, I'm in diplomacy, I could totally get away with going on diplomatic missions to resorts. And I'd love to go to Antiva City. That's where we get our coffee from." Which is all Resa actually knows about Antiva, but it's all that she needs to know in order to be interested in it. Land of the coffee, lead the way.

At Lexie's question about tanning, Resa squints at her for a moment, contemplates all the weird skin color arguments that Earth has, which she barely understood then, and doesn't particularly seek to try to explain to a place that doesn't seem to have much in the way of it. "Yeah, to a certain extent. It's a sign that, ah. You know. You go outdoors, you're active, you enjoy doing things. Um--" She's not an idiot, she can figure out why someone here might desire paler skin. "--Most of our work is done indoors. So someone who has a tan doesn't do a lot of work. They, ah."

She gestures to herself. "Hang out outdoors, instead." It's interesting, how the move to cubicle farms changed the perception of people spending their time outside.

Fascinating, Lexie muses as she opts to join the other woman's lounge, sinking into a graceful pile of skirts and making her own admirable show of leisure amongst the pillows. It only makes sense; if in Resa's world the work is done indoors, then showing that one has the time to thoroughly enjoy the sun would be advantageous.

She's decided they're going to be friends. Make yourself valuable:

"I am sure there are better beans available than what the Inquisition chooses to supply," she says. Not a burn on the Inquisition really, but they are a military organization, and what military has ever truly seen to the needs of anyone for luxury? "I shall make a point to have a selection of their finest imported, so you may see what Thedas has to offer." Lexie provides a sparkling grin of her own. "In trade, you must continue to regale me with tales of your home. Obviously there is coffee. What do you do for fun?"

Resa is perfectly content to accept her new lounging partner, and new apparent friend. While Resa has been keeping to herself the past few weeks, she's starting to accept that she's in this whole Thedas thing for the long haul. Which means she's going to need people around her.

"Better beans? That is amazing. I've been trying to find ways to improve what we have, but..." She waves her hand airily. "You can dress up a cow as pretty as you can, it'll still moo." It's a weird saying, but it probably manages to convey the sentiment intended. "I would love to see what Thedas has to offer."

The exchange offered isn't quite fair, but since Resa is the one currently benefiting, she files it away for later. A favor for a favor is the fae way, after all--none of them could abide the idea of owing someone.

"Let me see...for fun? Well, this, of course. Though it's often done at a proper beach or pool, which is much funner, because there are people around--" And she leans forward with a conspiratorial grin, like she has an incredible secret to share with Lexie. "Epecially cute guys, who are almost always running around shirtless." A completely shameless giggle follows. "There are other things to do, of course, but nothing quite as fun to watch."

Lexie does love both conspiracy and incredible secrets, and so leans in to mirror Resa's movement. And briefly afterward, the wicked little giggle. "C'est bon!" she exclaims, "And what fine watching we have in Kirkwall. It is truly astounding in some moments, the general beauty of the Inquisition. I had thought the rumours exaggerated, but—" she gestures over to the training pells illustratively— good blanket placement by the by— with raised eyebrows. Even now, attractive shirtless men doing attractive shirtless things, almost as if they were placed there to prove a point rather than simply doing some early summer training.

"You have perfect taste in location," Lexie says approvingly, "I find it most agreeable to be at leisure and watching soldiers train." She grins. "Sometimes they laugh and tease each other if you wave." There's a brief pause, and then her eyes sparkle mischievously. "Is there anyone you have found it particularly nice to observe thus far?"

Gossip, let's gossiiiiiip.

Edited 2018-06-23 05:14 (UTC)

As far as Resa is concerned, shirtless men exist for her consumption, and anything they may be actually trying to do while shirtless is incidental. So she takes some time to enjoy that lovely view, before she turns back to Lexie. “Yes, well, what’s the point in lounging if you can’t have some entertainment while you do it? As for men in particular—"

She thinks on that for a moment, tapping her chin. “—So far, most I’ve only seen from a distance, or spoke to through the crystals. There have been a few, so far. Ah—first one is a man named Daniel, I think he’s from my world? Cute, in a nerdy kinda way. Got these glasses and gets all flustered when you flirt with him. Those kinds of guys can be tricky to pin down, but they’re always so eager to please, and follow directions very nicely.” AKA she’s pretty sure he’s a giant sub.

“And one other—His name is Thor, of House Asgard. Native to here, and built like a brick wall. I’m pretty sure his bicep is the size of my head. I’m not sure what a guy like him would be into, but if you’re doing it while looking at a face like that, who really cares?”

Oh, Lexie likes her. "Flustered is exceptionally good for ones amusement," she agrees, "and taking direction well such a lovely trait, but those men can be such a long game." She lifts the shoulder on the side she's not lounging on and waves a hand. "Best to have something else about while waiting, no?"

She had begun sporting a wide impish smile at Resa's mention of Thor. While oddly not her type, as evidenced by her repeated and enthusiastic carrying on with the younger of the two brothers, who appears to share little with the elder save blood and power (and even that manifested in opposition), the appeal of bedding such a man is not lost on her. Especially if one enjoys biceps the size of ones head.

"The first I know nothing of, but the second... Well. You must come to the party dear Evie and I are hosting for our birthday this week and you shall have a chance to run into Lord Thor of House Asgard." Also, we're friends now.

"The thrill can be in the chase," Resa notes, nodding along with Lexie. "But sometimes the chase does get tiring. I don't know how much of a chase Lord Thor would be, but..." No need to finish the sentence, really.

She grins at the invitation, and nods. Even if she decides that she isn't interested in Thor--and he will be interested in her, of course, who wouldn't be?--it would be fascinating to get to see some fancy old-timey party.

"I'd be delighted to go, especially if he'll be there. Just don't mention I said anything! I have to try to act suave, you know?"

"On my heart, I should never mention such a thing," Lexie says, looking delighted that Resa will be attending, "It shall be a chance and lucky meeting, and I shall know nothing whatsoever of your designs."

Myira is the kind of person who likes to explore and once she's released from the quarantine she roams all over the Gallows, poking into high towers and battlemenets and down into cellars and other dark places. She's wandering across the courtyard, dressed only in a simple linen shift that's been belted loosely at the waist with a piece of string--weirdo. When she spies someone sunning themselves, though, she seems to take it as an invitation to join them and happily flops down next to Resa.

"Ohhh this sun is lovely, ain't it?" She waggles her fingers at Resa, the glimmer of the rift shard in her hand catching the sunlight as she goes.

Resa has no room to be looking down on other people's fashion choices, considering the kind of outfits she used to wear back home. But that isn't going to actually stop her from doing it, and with eyes hidden behind sunglasses, she gives a scrutinizing once over to Myira, before popping them up to flash the other woman a cheerful smile, and give a quick wave--using the hand that features her very own rift shard.

Another rifter, or just one of the natives unfortunate enough to get stuck with one? It's not something obvious to Resa just yet, though it's usually something she can figure out with enough exposure.

"It is lovely. So nice not to have to deal with smog and pollution blocking the sun, here." She hums contemplatively, sliding the sunglasses back down. "It's almost worth no one knowing what electricity is."

Myira props her chin in one hand as she rolls onto her stomach to look at Resa with open curiosity. Her head tilts a little to one side and she smiles brightly, practically beaming.

"No clouds today, though they're nice to have around too sometimes," she says airily, then purses her lips. "Umm... Speakin' of that, what's electricity?" She's a bird, Resa. Sorry.

Resa shrugs off the question. No one around here seems to know what electricity is, save people from Earth—were there old timey Earth people? How would she even be able to tell the difference? Ah well, nothing for her to worry about.

“It’s a thing we have on my world. Don’t worry about it.” They’ll all be quite dead and gone by the time Thedas gets around it it, if it ever does. “The point is that no one knows what it is, after all. The real important question is...” And here she leans forward, eyes flickering over the other woman. “...Have the people here provided you with proper clothes? If they haven’t, I’ll have words with them for you. I can be very convincing.”

"Oh, okay!" Myira happily accepts that answer. If she doesn't have to worry about it, she doesn't have to worry about it. That's fine with her. She stifles a yawn and looks down at her clothes for a moment, blinking.

"...This is what they gave me, I guess? I dunno, I never had stuff like this before. Am I supposed to have more?"

"What are guns?" It's the little Rifter who saved him in the market, he notes, which means Thor's friendly question is genuinely friendly rather than just polite. He's brought a pair of solid staves, heavy wood polished to a red gleam. They get set against the rack while he pulls off his top and hangs it on there too.

"I believe if you pull the string back it will go further." He has only scholastic knowledge of the bow anymore, not having drawn one in a decade. The staff, hammer, and magic he knows but he's fairly certain she'd break too easily with the first two and there's no teaching magic to someone who doesn't have it.

Thor picks up one of the staves again and gives it a twirl, letting it spark as he shows off a little. Why not?

"Oh, guns are--"

Attempting to explain guns is a complicated feat, but Resa doesn't freeze right in the middle of her sentence because she's daunted by the attempt. She stops right as she turns around to look at Thor, just in time to watch him remove his shirt. The sight manages to chase off trivial things from her mind, like whatever the hell she was just talking about. Who even cared when she was currently being so fortunately blessed?

The show of sparks is what startles her into remembering that a conversation involves participation from both parties, not just blatant oogling. Some day, she'll get used to people being so open about magic, but decades of wariness are hard to undo.

"--They're weapons. That we used in my world. I knew how to use them." Specialized ones, made by fae for fae, without any of the nasty iron that burned them so. But they did the job, just the same. "I don't know how to use any of the weapons that are here--but you seem to be pretty talented."

"I lead my father's men," he says casually, plopping the staff's butt on the ground and leaning on it. "We are often fighting the qunari as they try to take our lands, so I must be well-trained and ready for anything. Though I am not proficient in every weapon."

He stretches, looking pleased enough with himself and the conversation despite how he'd come here to train. The Rifters are an interesting group.

"Magic is my main weapon. But it does not defeat everything, so I train with hammer and staff as well. Perhaps there is an alternate to... guns? that we can find for you. You are small, are you fast? Some people who are small and fast like daggers."

“I can be fast,” Resa replies, trying not to ogle Thor stretching too obviously. Gotta play it smooth. “I used to be faster back home, but some things have changed since I’ve arrived.” It’s the closest she’s come to admitting to anyone that she might not be exactly what she seems, but at least she isn’t openly admitting that she’s talking about flying. Something that she can only do in short bursts now, even if she were willing to do it in front of others.

He might not be so bad to tell. He’s a mage, he seems comfortable with being one—

—But you let loose a secret, even to one person, and it stops being a secret. And she’s still not sure how she feels about sharing her abilities.

“I’ve handled knives before, I can try daggers—But let me try a staff, first.” Mostly because all the daggers here have steel or iron in them. But a simple wooden staff is available, and Resa picks it up, giving it a spin. “You lead your father’s men? You must be very brave. And adept in battle. I’ve been in fights before, but I’d call them skirmishes, more than anything else.”

He's not unused to being ogled, and he's got enough pride that he enjoys it... but he's not stretching for her entertainment right now. Shape like this takes work to maintain, so he's going to train one way or another today. Her picking up a staff gives that workout a possible shape and Thor straightens up.

"I'm from Tevinter, a battlemage. Those of us who claim that title are very adept. We need to be." He's matter of fact, taking a stance as he talks for fighting with staff alone. "If you stand like this, you'll be balanced and prepared to move with and against your opponent. Hold it with space between your hands, and you will be more able to maneuver it. It is... not like a knife, at all."

This is new. His family had brought in teachers for him before; he's never taught. Or even tried to teach.

"Bear with me. I have never instructed before."

What do you mean that people don't exist and do things exclusively for her entertainment? Sounds fake.

But Resa is eager to learn, even more than she is to ogle, because what he's showing her is important, something that will let her defend herself, keep herself safe. So she mimics his stance, holding it how he demonstrates.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to be critiquing your teaching technique. I'm grateful that you're helping me, period." She assures him, with a quick smile. "I'll have to make it up to you, at some point."

People have different ideas about Important Relaxation. For example, while Resa is sunning herself with her glass of lemonade? Sitting in the shade not so far away from her is Mal, with a sketchpad and a piece of charcoal. Sketching Resa, because honestly where could you find a more perfect artist's model then someone who just decided to lay about and enjoy themselves.

Green eyes narrowed, purple hair swept up and away from her face, she worked silently and intently.

Well at least until Resa noticed her, at least.

When Resa does notice her, she does it without glancing at Mal--at least when Mal is looking at her. Which might have been a truly incredible feat, if Resa weren't a magical cheater cheater pumpkin eater.

However, once she does figure out what's going on, she doesn't actually move to stop Mal, or even acknowledge her--maybe because she suspected the other woman would stop, if she knew Resa were on to her. Instead, she shifts, stretching out, and makes sure to pose with her best angles facing Mal. The arrangement could be natural, but it's almost too natural, careful efforts taken to appear effortless.

It's not instagram, but without the internet, it'll probably do.

Mal is so focused on her work that she doesn't even notice that suddenly she has more angles to work from. Instead, she just flips the page in her sketchbook, and begins a full-sized portrait of the young woman as she lays in the sun.

It is too perfect, but honestly that is how most classic art starts out. Mal is giving her own careful touches to it though. More shadow than light, making the image more stark and yet more compelling. Focusing on certain aspects of the young woman's face and body, to bring out the small touches of a person just enjoying themselves.

Now that Resa has begun to accept that she’s well and truly stuck here, and the dust around Rifters and Ambassadors seems to have settled, Resa has some business she has to take care of. Something that, quite frankly, she doesn’t want to do, which is another reason she’s been putting it off. But, while it’s unlikely that it’ll ever come up, she’ll be damn sorry if it does, and she hasn’t tried to preemptively mitigate it.

She has the advantage this time. She isn’t going to risk losing it.

So the appointment with Herian is made, and Resa shows up at the other woman’s office accordingly. The performance begins as soon as she arrives, slight fidgeting as she steps in, that moves to shifting in her seat as she sinks down into the chair. Nervous, even fearful. Look, she’s so small and innocent and scared. How sad.

"I've been wondering if I should bring this up—how I could bring it up. But I figured, the Inquisition should know, just in case. It’s, um—A warning. In case someone I know comes through a rift. I know it sounds paranoid, but—" She laughs nervously as she glances off to the side. "—He's chased me all over our world, it would figure if he managed to track me all the way to Thedas."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Open] chillin and killin

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Self-care

no subject

no subject

Herian