propulsion: (Default)
tony stark. ([personal profile] propulsion) wrote in [community profile] faderift2020-08-04 09:35 pm

project felandaris plot: where lies the strangling fruit. closed.

WHO: Tony Stark, Joselyn Smythe, Richard Dickerson, Wysteria Poppell, Vanadi de Vadarta
WHAT: A group of nerds and one cool elf investigate some strange reports coming out of a Free Marches village.
WHEN: Second week of August.
WHERE: Free Marches
NOTES: TBA.


highborn: everyone knows a girl requires a car (almost normal)

[personal profile] highborn 2020-08-17 05:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Vanadi does hear those murmurs — easily mistaken for greeting and organizational whispers, if not for the undercurrent of tension he catches from even here. And then of course, to cement it, the unsettling smell that creeps alongside those whispers. Something is here.

A glance over his shoulder is enough to tell him this is nothing he wants anyone sleeping through. He sinks to a crouch next to the nearest sleeping form, reaching easily through the darkness to shake a shoulder — Wysteria's, and Tony's shortly after.

His whisper is the first thing to greet them, low but steady: "Quietly, quietly. We have company."
heirring: (why this)

[personal profile] heirring 2020-08-17 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
In half sleeping reply, Wysteria draws tighter into her blanket and bedroll. She buries her face, groggy stubborn, into the crooked of her elbow and mumbles some sound that must mean 'Five minutes more, Mr. de Vadarta' even if it doesn't say so with as many words.

But it's a child's impulse, and she has been with Riftwatch long enough now to be familiar with being gently shaken awake in tents, and so doesn't survive past the few fumbling moments it takes for her to translate the meaning of his greeting. She uncurls, blinking slowly up at his shape in the dark. The loose sleeping plait of her hair is coming undone and it makes her seem even more disordered than is characteristic.

"Who is it?"
obdurata: (046)

[personal profile] obdurata 2020-08-31 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
Meanwhile, in answer to Richard—

“Not so much as I'd like to volunteer to do it,” which doesn't sound promising. She's a mage in her forties after the war, so she can't be helpless—but there's a vast, vast wasteland in between 'helpless' and 'the person you want fighting a two-headed wolf'. A jerk of her staff, and a hissed, “All this does is smack.”

That isn't fair; there's also a blade on the end of it.
Edited 2020-08-31 09:26 (UTC)
nonvenomous: (pic#14254278)

[personal profile] nonvenomous 2020-09-01 07:04 am (UTC)(link)
“You may not have the luxury of a choice.”

Bough traded from right hand to left, Richard reaches behind his back to ease out the longer dagger he’d lent her previously. No sudden movements, no trace of fear past the chatter of an adrenaline shiver through his teeth.

He presses his luck with a step forward around the fire, keeping the pronged end of his barely-burning branch elevated as a warning between them. Colorful sparks and all.

“See if you can raise Vanadi’s crystal.”
highborn: would make my heart her home (no one in her right mind)

[personal profile] highborn 2020-09-13 03:21 am (UTC)(link)
The snarl is enough for him. The two sleepers should be awake enough by now, and Vanadi hasn't the time to be helping anyone to their feet with such a monstrosity at his back. He whirls around to face it instead, his rapier drawing with a whisper of metal.

"Up," he hisses, probably a little uselessly. No one in their right mind rolls back to sleep with a two-headed wolf come to visit. He stands protectively before Wysteria and Tony, blade leveled at the thing and stance defensive.
heirring: ([003])

[personal profile] heirring 2020-09-18 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
Wysteria sits abruptly upright, and for a moment gets no further than that - freezing at the sight of slavering creature illuminated by the fire with a certain blank lack of comprehension. And then she is moving, kicking away her blankets and reaching for the shield kept among her belongings.

There's a knife there too - somewhere. In the kit itself, perhaps? Or folded in under a change of clothes? Still in one of her boots? She rummages to find it—