faderift | [OPEN] not good with words.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

Edited 2019-10-28 18:59 (UTC)

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?"

"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."

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.

"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."

'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.

"A lot of things," Ellis answers, retreating slightly to lean against a shelf. "Mostly folk tales."

Among other things. Kirkwall's library is vast. Ellis could have wandered the shelves, picking volumes at random, but it's nice to have the suggestions and it's nice to have someone to talk about what he's read afterwards.

"Does he make suggestions for you as well?"

"Sometimes." Frequently. Mhavos has been her best resource since joining Riftwatch, one of perhaps a handful of people she can be certain will never have unkind responses to her questions. It is hard to know how to explain that, however--or rather, she decides, she simply does not want to. No one besides Mhavos need know how she has relied on his generosity.

This is a moment where she should say something else. The conversation requires her to speak further, so that he can respond again. (She has been trying to figure out the rules of conversation, to greater and lesser degrees or success, lately. It is harder when you know nothing about the person besides their smell.) After a moment's thought, she takes a stab at it. "Do you like folk tales?"

"Yes. I've been lucky that Kirkwall's library has such a good selection."

Which might sound like praise of the library itself, but it should also be noted that Ellis is judging it against several years of having zero selection at all.

Though that question being answered takes him, inevitably, to considering what she'd been devoting her attention to before he'd arrived.

"Am I disturbing you?"

Because he likely is. He'd intruded, even if Laura is occupying the place he typically seats himself.

[OPEN] not good with words.

first, a wildcard.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject