[OPEN] not good with words.

[justashotaway]

WHO: Laura Kint and YOU
WHAT: How's Laura doing? WELL, SHE'S BEEN BETTER. If you'd like a closed starter with something more specific, please drop me a line on dw or elsewhere o/
WHEN: Various days mid-Harvestmere, after the initial messenger drama
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: TBD

first, a wildcard.

It's not exactly the easiest these days, finding Laura. She doesn't linger in common areas and frequently takes food away from the dining hall to eat privately. It's possible to catch her in corridors, however, or loading up a plate to run away with, or holed up in the corner of a nominally public room. (The library is a good place to try, Laura trying to be as unnoticeable as possible while reading fairy tales and other decidedly-not-war-philosophy books.)

But occasionally, things work out differently.

and then the ferry.

Early one morning, she strikes out for the first ferry of the day, with what she's hoping is unimpeachable logic: The messenger gave no description of her, and the townspeople have no reason to know who she is. In a way, is she not safer there?

(More importantly, walking through the Gallows is suffocating. People here know who she is and what she has done. Whether they care is immaterial.)

She wears her hood and tries to stay near enough others that she looks like she belongs here at the water's edge, waiting to go away from the Gallows for a time. It might not entirely work.

or the memorial garden.

The green, dying scent of plants draws her into Hightown despite her best efforts to avoid it. (If the messenger is still here, if the diplomat she answered to is here, they will both be in Hightown. Laura is nearly sure of that.) She hasn't spent much time there in general--it does not seem especially welcoming--but when she does, she goes to the garden that used to be a building. So it goes today.

"What is this called?" she asks the person near her. The plant, that's what she means, but anyone even mildly familiar with her could be forgiven for assuming she's referring to the garden as a whole.

or the market.

Normally, she goes to the market to examine the jewelry and spices available. Today, she is looking at boots and sacks and water skins and trying to determine which might be the best purchases to consider. She is not here to buy, only to think.

And to follow a sound down an alleyway--someplace in the shadows between buildings, a person is being held up at knifepoint. Laura stops short, heat in her gaze, and gives a flat, "Leave," to the would-be mugger.

or the ships.

Some of the ships are huge--others, little more than fishing boats--and in the months she's been in Kirkwall, Laura has taken notice of them for the first time. (She does not like water, in her defense. There has been little reason to acknowledge the possibility of sailing.) She does her best not to gawk, but it is difficult not to feel some awe at the sight of a ship in the harbor, nearly tall enough to scrape clouds.

And she occasionally asks others questions, people who look like they belong in this place. "Where is it going?" and "Does it take travelers?" and "What does it cost to travel?"

She promised Matthias she would stay until she couldn't. When that day comes, she wants to be ready.

Comments

*in a monotone voice* this is so wild

[sulahnan]

Her plan was to look for Matthias, in the hopes that he would know where Laura might be, but nearly running smack-dab into Laura in the corridor kind of cuts out the middleman in that equation. Sorry, Matty.

"Oh, hey," Athessa remarks, once she has narrowly averted the collision and recognized the girl. "I was actually on my way to find you. Heh, convenient."

oh em gee.

[justashotaway]

Laura comes up short, her brows drawing in slightly as Athessa talks. They do not know each other--not in any meaningful sense--but Athessa spoke up when the messenger came. That means this is almost certainly related.

Her voice is guarded as she responds, "Why?"

[sulahnan]

Well she's definitely not going to wax poetic about how she empathizes with Laura, or how even through limited and second-hand association, Athessa sees something of her younger self in Laura and feels a little protective because of that, so she says:

"To see how you're doing, since the whole...murder accusation thing." She makes sure not to say the words murder accusation too loudly, though it's hard to imagine anyone in the Gallows not knowing about it already.

[justashotaway]

Laura's mouth is a pinched line. This is not a question she wishes to answer--but it is not, at least, bad news. If there is anything to report, Athessa does not know it.

(And she spoke up when the messenger came. It is evident that she gets along with Matthias. That means something trustworthy, something worthwhile.)

So she provides a status update, if somewhat stiffly. It hasn't precisely occurred to her that this is a question about something besides her place within the organization. "I have continued to assist Riftwatch. But I am staying near the Gallows."

Mostly.

[sulahnan]

"That's not--" She starts, stops herself, backtracks. "I mean that's great, and all, but I don't really care where you're staying or if you're--" Wait, that sounds worse, doesn't it? That sounds worse. Athessa huffs, pressing her lips together and once again, backtracking.

"Let's start over." Literally backtracking, Athessa retreats a few strides back the way she came, then pantomimes herself bumping into Laura again.

"Oh hey, Laura, just the person I wanted to see. How are you? Feeling stressed at all? Hungry? Sleepy? Bored?" It's all very lighthearted, and jokey, but not mocking. If she's mocking anyone, it's herself. "Just wanted to check on you and make sure you're OK. And if you're the kind of OK where you need to yell and break something, I know a place where you can do that without getting in trouble."

There. The offer is out there, the concern is rephrased, and it wasn't the smoothest but the important thing is she did it.

[justashotaway]

Laura can see, as Athessa talks--then steps back, forward, and pretends they have not spoken--why Matthias likes her: this is something he might do, too. It is absurd, but it is meant kindly. She thinks, at least.

It is also somewhat bewildering to know how to answer. The questions are much more particular as Athessa asks them, one after another, and all of which pertain to Laura specifically. She is not opposed to indicating whether she is hungry, of course, but stressed is another matter.

After a too-long stretch of thought, one in which the cogs are nearly visible as they turn in her head, she responds with a dodge. But a well-meant one, something she's genuinely curious about. "The training yard?"

If there's someplace else that allows yelling and breaking things, she cannot draw it up.

[sulahnan]

Well, that's a win in Athessa's book. She doesn't expect Laura to want to talk about feelings because Athessa never wants to talk about feelings, either. But there are ways to work out feelings without talking about them, and she has just the thing.

"Better than the training yard," she says with a grin, and lowers her voice to conspiratorial tones. "An abandoned warehouse. Nobody does any upkeep on it, and all the stuff in it is junk that nobody cares about. Plus, for some reason," that reason being her own charlatanical ghost-tours, "Everybody thinks it's haunted, so any noises are chalked up to that."

memorial garden

[writteninblood]

Sorrel, too, doesn't come here often. It felt too much like a grave, for all that death lingered here only in the way it lingers in all forests, however small. And it was a small one; the trees were slender, and likely to remain so, the plants somewhat tended, and yet...

Well. To all life comes an ending.

But for him, the garden represented the small forest that had stood in the same place, once. And, of course, the mages who'd grown it from the ashes, one in particular. What is this called pulls him out of silent reverie like a thunderbolt; Sorrel startles a step away from Laura. He hadn't seen her there, hadn't been aware of anyone or anything else at all. That was dangerous, in Kirkwall, Hightown or otherwise.

"Uh..." He says stupidly, then blinks and follows her eyes, and forgets to do anything but just answer her question, "...Royal Elfroot. It's stronger than the ordinary kind. You can tell them apart because the, uh, the silver... The leaves. See?"

[justashotaway]

Laura crouches down before the leafy stalk and sniffs at one of the leaves. After a moment, she nods. "It smells like elfroot. But sweeter."

Less bitter, perhaps. There is something about it that seems gentler to her. When she straightens again, she looks up at the man's face. "Where does it come from?"

[writteninblood]

"It is Elfroot," He protests quietly, baffled. Who is this woman. Why is this woman. This seems unusual— isn't it? Has he seen ehr before, somehow? "It likes rivers, I think. There's a lot of it around the Hinterlands, and the marshy areas of the Marches."

He's not entirely sure what to do with her abrupt, direct manner. Except answer to it, of course.

[justashotaway]

It is not the elfroot she's accustomed to, and that makes the difference. Slight changes to scent, appearance, and name are enough to require its own category: other elfroot.

Laura regards the plant with mild interest, plucking one of the leaves at the top of the stalk, so she can rub it idly between finger and thumb. If it prefers rivers, she doubts it enjoys growing high on a cliff above the sea. But it is growing. "The Hinterlands are in...Ferelden?"

[writteninblood]

"Yeah. South Ferelden. There are.... a lot of bears?" He doesn't sound confident; Sorrel hasn't spent much time there, but you hear stories. Mostly horrible ones, which is odd for such a supposedly farm-choked place, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Please, who are you.

"Not that I'd prefer a regular mugging, mind. Gardening lessons are nicer. I'm just confused."

[justashotaway]

Laura's expression shifts three times in succession, perhaps too rapidly (or too minutely) to register for someone who doesn't know her: confusion, then something like hurt, finally to something studiously flat.

This is not someone who knows what she has done, unless he is lying about knowing her name and claws. This is somehow worse. He looked at her, and listened to her, and thought she seemed like someone in the process of...an irregular mugging? (She knows what muggings are. They happened in Cumberland, too.)

So she is disinclined to provide information beyond a stiff-backed, "I am not here to steal from you."

first, a wildcard.

[propulsion]

Laura almost makes it out of the dining hall, with her plateful of food, a pitcher of water, when suddenly her path is interrupted.

Tony, likewise, is holding a plate of food. There, the peak of blue glow and the scent of lyrium escape the front of his chest, and are probably just as quasi-familiar as the man who wears it, which is to say, it's been like a month of ships in the night behaviour. Not wholly active avoidance. This seems to be the opposite of that, right now.

"Sup, Evanescence," he says. "Cool kids not letting you sit with them?"

[justashotaway]

"Laura," she corrects him, even though he is doing this purposely, for reasons she cannot begin to guess. (Evanescence is not a pet name, it is a state of existence - or lack thereof. Laura has never had a pet name, anyway, or never one she enjoyed.)

The temptation, of course, is to sidle past him, and even with her hands full, she thinks she can do it without much trouble. But she does not expect he will make it easy for her, and she does not want him to follow if she leaves. It would be better, she suspects, to state her intentions here, if she must at all. "I wish to eat alone."

[propulsion]

"Or."

Not that Tony's gonna push the issue, but sometimes a moody teen needs a gentle shove.

"I'd rather not, and you could help me out with that." He doesn't wait for her to refute this before he adds, "Hey, we got off on the wrong foot, and-- that's a people term for doing a bad job at meeting for the first time, so why don't we reset. And then you can go be a recluse until your twee heart's content."

Deal?

[justashotaway]

Laura suspects he is making fun of her, but he is doing it in such a way that makes it difficult to tell which parts are a jest and which are serious. (It does not help that she's never heard the word twee before.) And the things which seem pointed (mostly) do not actually cause pain; he does not seem to expect her to steal from him, for instance, or cause him harm. He just does not want to call her by her name.

The oddity of the request is what makes her relent, in the end. If he is so intent on eating in her presence, there might be a reason. And if it turns out he simply wants to say things she does not like, she will leave.

"Fine," she tells him, after some thought. "But I am not going to eat in there."

[propulsion]

"Okay," says Tony.

But the idea of hoofing it all the way to some socially acceptable alternative within the Gallows which recent Discord conversation has established is enormous does not appeal, so they will have to make a compromise. Outside, the evening is slowly getting that pinch of chill in the air that means lounging around socially under lamplight is becoming less comfortable to do, but also means there are less people.

He is guessing, maybe, that that's what she is seeking. Or the possibility of as many exits as possible. Who knows. There's a place they can sit, anyway, side by sideish, with more than an arm's length of space between them.

"So what're you doing here?"

[justashotaway]

Laura does not care about social acceptability; if forced to guess at the appropriate alternatives to eating in the dining hall, her best guess would be her room. But frankly, at this point, she prefers being outside. As the world gets colder around them, the reek of Kirkwall grows less pungent--and, as he's guessed, she runs into fewer people.

And when they sit, Tony chooses a place further away from her than she expects. Laura appreciates that.

"I am eating." Obviously. But she remembers a conversation she'd had with the spymaster some time ago, the pleasantly worded but pointed demand to answer the question that is not stated, not only the one she hears most clearly. So, after a moment, she tries again. "I am part of Forces."

first, a wildcard.

[heorte]

"That's a good one," comes a voice from the space where the shelves open into this alcove. "I read it myself when I first arrived."

There's a few books under Ellis' arm. He's spent some time reading in the very spot Laura's occupying, but he doesn't make any move to try to and oust her from it. Instead, he selects and offers her one of the leather-bound tomes from his stack.

"Here. For when you've finished."

[justashotaway]

Laura looks up sharply from where she's a finger-width's deep into an adventure story, something heavily featuring highwaymen, secret rooms in large houses, and mistaken identities. It is not, perhaps, fine literature, but she wouldn't know. Fiction has a sense of the forbidden to her; the possibility of it is still such a vivid, living thing that any and all stories appeal to her, and she nearly disappears into them when she reads. When she's interrupted, it's a little like coming up from underwater.

But she is not opposed to a recommendation. Laura leans forward, reaching out for the book he holds. "What is it?"

[heorte]

"Short stories from Ferelden."

They have something in common there, even if neither of them have realized it just yet. Ellis doesn't have the most discerning taste either. He'll read anything.

"Each one is about a mabari. It doesn't sound interesting, but..."

He treads closer, balances it on the arm of her chair. A small offering.

"They're interesting. I promise."

[justashotaway]

Laura sets aside the book she has been reading, after checking the page number, in favor of running a hand over the cover of this one. Already, it sounds promising, if only for the fact that it is set in Ferelden--there is something, she's finding, extraordinarily comforting in reading about places she has never seen. That it is about dogs is less enjoyable, but perhaps she will not mind it when she has read it.

After a moment, she looks back up. "You had it first."

It was already among the books he selected; if he was planning to read it again, then she should not take it from him.

[heorte]

"I've heard them before."

Heard, not read.

Giving this book away is stalling the impulse to dig up some old memory. Does he need to revisit the last time someone had told him these stories?

"Mhavos gave me some suggestions. I've picked up enough to keep me busy while you finish that book and mine."

[justashotaway]

'Mhavos' is the right name to drop--Laura's attention sharpens on the man, some interest entering her gaze. "What did he suggest?"

She keeps hold of the book of mabari as she asks, having already decided--if subconsciously--that she will take it for herself.