PRIDE BEFORE A FALL | Closed.

[limier]

WHO: Lakshmi + Coupe, Kitty, Gwenaelle, Helena, Iorveth, Marcoulf, Merrill, Solas.
WHAT: Fade cannonball
WHEN: You can't make me date you
WHERE: The Free Marches
NOTES: OOC Post, Discussion plurk.

This is routine.

A rift, high above the ruins of the Hammer’s Edge Bridge. It cuts into the sky, green and pulsing as a wound to spit out spirits like misery. This is routine — but the position is precarious, so near to a cliff ledge. Watch your footing, a fall promises only sharp rocks and water below.

The task is straightforward: Close the tear, or provide a diversion for the Rifters doing so. Keep yourself alive, and keep your hand to the task, no matter how it aches. When respite comes, it’s a matter of seconds: The Rift stabilizes, and,

And Lakshmi breaks from the group. Moving fast (too considered for the pace, every demon dodged, never a misstep on the odd root or rock) as she sprints for the edge. Maybe you tried to grab her, stop her, stop someone else from grabbing her.

She launches herself legs out, flatly determined in her aim —

Maybe it’s only that like it or not, she’s going through that rift. Maybe it’s that there’s no good reason not to join her. Maybe it’s that everyone else is jumping too.

Routine, right?

 

Comments

[dirth]

"Spirits can be kind. Some seek nothing more than a trade of knowledge or information." Solas moves forward, taking lead. This is where he belongs, where he is in his element, and he thinks that, perhaps, he might reveal too much of himself. It's demons that are the problem, but there's no point in wasting time putting the dear of demons into the heart of Rifters. At least not for now.

"Just avoid speaking to them, if you can avoid it, and stay close to the party."

[limier]

"Fuck's sake," A hiss of breath, despite herself (despite Solas' wisdom of emotion), as Lakshmi hefts the shield. "Your bloody shoulder."

Literally. She's already reaching for a knife — the better to tear a sleeve: she's not come with bandages, more's the oversight.

[shri]

She looks up at the word, brief - half confused why Wren is hissing like that, whose shoulder - ? "Oh." Looking down. She wipes at the blood, a faint wrinkle in her nose, half dried already. "Save the concern. It does not trouble me."

Which means - as soon as they're not looking, I'll take care of it. She carries on past Wren's unwarranted concern. "And if they speak to us, and we can not help it? Given what's been said of trickery?"