Kingsway Rifter Arrival

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters, rescuers, and anyone else
WHAT: New arrivals are collected and transported to Kirkwall
WHEN: Mid-Kingsway
WHERE: The Brecilian Forest, near south of Denerim
NOTES: This log contains prompts for the ARRIVAL and RECOVERY of new rifters, as well as the subsequent QUARANTINE period. All prompts are open to anyone.

Comments

[foxsays]

With the sense some unnamed deity whose whole family are leviathans (the Outsider, it's the Outsider) the kraken slides away from the boot but raises up arms in-- protest? Anger? Imitation of a toddler demanding 'up'? There's more clicking from the hidden beak though that might just be as he attempts to hustle himself up and into prime scrambling configuration which is two arms either side as legs, two wrapped around himself, the other two as arms to maintain balance.

Araceli inside the office hears a muffled voice outside. Hears the door rattling. Spies the empty bowl and bites off the curse that instead lodges itself in her throat that'd more or less be you ungrateful little shit and I'm so proud of you, you're getting better!

Moves as quietly as possible which is pretty damn quiet because thieves don't get to make noise if they want to stay thieves creeping about rooftops in the small hours, fishes out her key from a pocket to do her best to open it in a flourish with as heavy a swing back in as she can.

"Good evening, forgive me while I--" a tight smile is aimed Clarke's way as Araceli makes a grab for the kraken, "restrain this bandit-- What can I do for you this evening señora?"

[levered]

There are potentially some good answers to that question, like: nothing, she just wanted to figure out where this hell-monster belonged before it killed someone. Or: nothing, sorry, she was looking for a bathroom. Or: a lot, actually, like explaining this entire planet.

But they will have to wait, because having someone else grab for the little beast barehanded means it likely isn't that dangerous, and the inflection on bandit verges on affection, but it can't possibly be a pet. Right? It looks way too much like something that the soldiers here would viciously stab after it fell through a green rip in the air.

So Clarke only shakes her head, a silent nothing, nothing yet, still looking at the creature in the faint green anchor light.

"What is that?"

[foxsays]

This one is not red lyrium encrusted and attended by similarly infected sea serpent minions in water that churned and frothed as if someone somewhere had lit a great fire below to slowly boil them, lobsters and crabs in the pot unawares, unable to leap out in time.

The kraken wraps himself comfortably around Araceli's left hand, key away, right hand cupping him securely so he has no designs on a stranger whose idea of an evening (or night, it's probably night, she's lost track by now) didn't involve by accosted by a rambunctious cephalopod with designs for a night on the lash on his own. Araceli is stroking him fondly though but people do that to the overly intelligent slabs of muscle, slobber, and personified stench they call dogs here.

Equal parts pet and weapon really.

"That is Fernando Florencio Eduard Mariano," as if recognising his name (not the full name, no surnames so he can't possibly be in trouble, it's only trouble if your full Sunday name is used and then only if hollered at full pitch or whispered in a way that has ice creeping across your empty bowl and window panes) the kraken flexes two arms again. "He's a kraken. Miniature. I think this is maximum size for him but maybe he doesn't know it? Or he is lord of all he surveys, I don't claim to know the minds of krakens and what they think of as their rightful dominion. Would you like to come in and have a seat in the office? I need to put him back in his bowl before he dries out; he might be intelligent but he hasn't worked out how far it is to the nearest body of water."

Araceli waves her in anyway to an inviting office with a lute propped against a fairly cluttered desk that suggests a day with a head slammed down on it at points (octopus inkholder, octopus candleholder, faintly disturbing bone carvings in the shape of whales) and some haphazard piles of books.

Possibly a manta ray skin hanging on the back of the door you just don't know here do you, there are two moons after all.