WHO: Araceli Bonaventura; open WHAT: Kirkwall adventures WHEN: Kingsway WHERE: Kirkwall + Wounded Coast NOTES: Hit me up on plurk/discord for a closed starter or put something up and I'll roll with it, starters in the comments
"What have I said about the sea reclaiming?" What a struggle it is to keep her face from curling into a smirk but Araceli has always been a professional when it comes to ruling her face, only brought into a different focus in Thedas so she manages. Turning away instead to pull her mouth into a ridiculous downward sob boohoo over dragonhide. It'd only give the excuse to go fight another.
Weren't a group of them just off doing that for a Qunari audience no less?
"Right, time to see what they might've been up to, if they were only carrying dull goods or perishables after that or if we've been thoroughly beaten to the punch I'll be disappointed. And wish to go to Llomerryn again. Or Nascere - have you heard much of Nascere?" Perhaps no, no one seems to know a great deal beyond their new friends but given the plans slowly forming she'll start hedging bets. "I'd love to be able to go there though the current situation…"
And of course the footing is treacherous, there are crabs scuttling, something flopping and swimming by turns that perhaps might be a lobster up here for whatever reason (lost are you old man?) as she gets her bearings for where the ropes would've been to lash it all in place. Any barrels. Any crates. Anything really. Probably in need of illumination.
Korrin just shakes her head, muttering. "Yeah, well, all the more reason to donate Claudina. Then maybe it will lay off...." Because she'll be damned if she's letting it claim her armor when there are creepy dolls to appease it. She huffs, but relaxes as a quick run-over yields no significant years, and the way it moves with her when she steps away doesn't seem off. That's encouraging.
Moving on, then. "Nascere...no, can't say that I have." And now that Araceli brings it up, that fact bothers her a little. "We'll fix that at some point, promise."
For now, though, she keeps focus on their surroundings. One wrong step could have her stuck just as she feared moments ago, not to mention crabs and Maker knows what else. Lifting her staff a little, she takes out one of the glow stones as well, to shed more light. "Hm, some crates over there...and they're stamped with something. You're closer, what do they say?"
"Our poor daughter." Cast adrift, never having lived, shut all those endless years in a box in a sinking rotting ship in the dark, all about her dead and gone, no child to love or be terrified of her sightless glass eyes. (Felix never brought his daughter back a doll, plenty of nobles and rich folk must have had others do it though, shelves in some homes were lined with them.) "And if my mother or father ever heard you say that Korrin Ataash they would be appalled, the lecture you'd be on the receiving end of would have you begging for a tongue lashing from the oldest, strictest Chantry mother with her pointing finger embedding itself in your sternum."
Araceli Bonaventura y Castell is after all the daughter of a holy man and holy woman. Easy to forget.
"You should speak to some of our new pirates about it, especially Charles or John Silver. It's occupied. Venatori. And they've a rift there." Just-- well maybe just sounding out someone who's likely to be as on-board as the pirates would be for going there but it helps to have allies to hand before you start, to go to any negotiations as strong as possible.
Squinting at the suddenness of the light down here, Araceli slides closer to avoid lifting her feet which might strain the boards more than she has a care to at the moment. "Supplies...supplies-- oh this one's Orlesian, too much of it's gone to make it out, maybe wine or some sort of goods?" Time to get it open and reveal the horrors that await them, will they be sending Claudina off with wine gone to vinegar, time to spin the wheel!
The idea of getting a lecture from parents gets a chuckle out of Korrin, who can't help herself. Her own very permissive parents never held much of anything sacred or bothered with lectures (that weren't about personal safety, when she was too young to know better), not after hearing them all their lives. A tongue-lashing to the extent of what Araceli describes would be a surreal experience, but if there's anyone who could get away with it, it would be the parents of the woman she loves.
But news of Nascere sinks in and she scowls. "...well, fuck. That's all the more reason to seek it out, sooner than later. The longer there's a Venatori infestation, the worse it'll get. I'll definitely want whatever info our new buddies can share." Charles and John, adding to her mental to-do list. She needs to better know her fellow project members, at least the newer ones.
Approaching one of the crates, she looks it over before nodding to herself. "It's rotten enough where I can energize it apart, at least this one. Stand back, and let's see what we have." She braces herself for some thing gross and raises her forearms, wreathed in that green glow, and the crate peels away, bit by bit. The scent of tobacco quickly reaches them, in various forms; cigars, filling for pipes and so on.
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Weren't a group of them just off doing that for a Qunari audience no less?
"Right, time to see what they might've been up to, if they were only carrying dull goods or perishables after that or if we've been thoroughly beaten to the punch I'll be disappointed. And wish to go to Llomerryn again. Or Nascere - have you heard much of Nascere?" Perhaps no, no one seems to know a great deal beyond their new friends but given the plans slowly forming she'll start hedging bets. "I'd love to be able to go there though the current situation…"
And of course the footing is treacherous, there are crabs scuttling, something flopping and swimming by turns that perhaps might be a lobster up here for whatever reason (lost are you old man?) as she gets her bearings for where the ropes would've been to lash it all in place. Any barrels. Any crates. Anything really. Probably in need of illumination.
no subject
Moving on, then. "Nascere...no, can't say that I have." And now that Araceli brings it up, that fact bothers her a little. "We'll fix that at some point, promise."
For now, though, she keeps focus on their surroundings. One wrong step could have her stuck just as she feared moments ago, not to mention crabs and Maker knows what else. Lifting her staff a little, she takes out one of the glow stones as well, to shed more light. "Hm, some crates over there...and they're stamped with something. You're closer, what do they say?"
no subject
Araceli Bonaventura y Castell is after all the daughter of a holy man and holy woman. Easy to forget.
"You should speak to some of our new pirates about it, especially Charles or John Silver. It's occupied. Venatori. And they've a rift there." Just-- well maybe just sounding out someone who's likely to be as on-board as the pirates would be for going there but it helps to have allies to hand before you start, to go to any negotiations as strong as possible.
Squinting at the suddenness of the light down here, Araceli slides closer to avoid lifting her feet which might strain the boards more than she has a care to at the moment. "Supplies...supplies-- oh this one's Orlesian, too much of it's gone to make it out, maybe wine or some sort of goods?" Time to get it open and reveal the horrors that await them, will they be sending Claudina off with wine gone to vinegar, time to spin the wheel!
no subject
But news of Nascere sinks in and she scowls. "...well, fuck. That's all the more reason to seek it out, sooner than later. The longer there's a Venatori infestation, the worse it'll get. I'll definitely want whatever info our new buddies can share." Charles and John, adding to her mental to-do list. She needs to better know her fellow project members, at least the newer ones.
Approaching one of the crates, she looks it over before nodding to herself. "It's rotten enough where I can energize it apart, at least this one. Stand back, and let's see what we have." She braces herself for some thing gross and raises her forearms, wreathed in that green glow, and the crate peels away, bit by bit. The scent of tobacco quickly reaches them, in various forms; cigars, filling for pipes and so on.