RIFTER ARRIVAL: Guardian 9:45

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters, rescuers, and anyone else
WHAT: New arrivals are collected and transported to Kirkwall
WHEN: Mid-Guardian, 9:45
WHERE: The hills north of Starkhaven
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

[rowancrowned]

“And now? With the battle fugue gone, and your temper cooled?”

He likes clever; warms to wordplay. Loathes the stilted nature of this, coaxing a fist uncurled finger by finger. Still intent, still watching.

[reshapes]

The boy gives an ambivalent shrug and gestures to the interior of the cell with a wag of a his finger. "I'm still here, aren't I? I'll assume you've heard a thing or two about what I can do from the people you had waving swords around when I arrived. If even half of it's true, then there's virtually no reason for me to be waiting around here unless I'm trying to make up for getting a little prickly right off the bat, now is there?

"The door's not that thick."

Which is, profoundly speaking, a lie. He's biding his time, testing the devouring presence of the artifact cemented to his Essence, and - he'll admit to himself, if no one else - feeling just slightly out of depth having no obvious place to return to were he to, say, blow the door of its hinges and make his escape. Would he go back to the place he'd arrived in? But he'd seen where the hole in the world had been and how it had been closed, how there'd been nothing left after but dust and stone. Would he just find some place to hole up and wait for whoever had summoned him so poorly to recall him to a pentacle? If that was the plan, then why not wait it out here instead of sacrificing so much energy to the magical tear in his hand?