[SEMI-OPEN]

[acreage]

WHO: Amos Burton, James Holden, Wysteria, Ellis, and YOU
WHAT: Two spacemen fall out of a rift, later explore scenic Kirkwall
WHEN: Nnnnowish? Waves hands
WHERE: The Wounded Coast, then Kirkwall
NOTES: A closed arrival thread, plus open individual threads for meeting Amos and/or Jim after their quarantine period.

Comments

[innerharbor]

Amos isn't going to get caught up in this who's on first bullshit. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "The fuck is a nug, kid?"

[justashotaway]

It's rare that she meets someone whose knowledge contains the same sort of holes as hers. But once she realizes that's the case, she looks at the man a little more carefully: large, with a serious brow and a flat mouth.

"Nugs are small animals that live where people do not." Sometimes they live near people, but she's not sure a clarification regarding villages is necessary. She tries to think of what would have made it easy for her connect that word to the creatures she'd seen in the countryside. "They have large noses and ears, and their skin is pink, and they are easy to kill."

[innerharbor]

"Rats," Amos says, poking at the food. "We're eating pink rats. That's not weirder than everything else, here."

[justashotaway]

"No," she corrects, stabbing another piece of nug with her claw. "Rats are smaller."

[innerharbor]

"So people eat this shit on the regular?" He can't blame them. For everything, it tastes good.

[justashotaway]

"At the Gallows." She's seen nug in marketplaces, too, she thinks. "I do not know what people in other places eat."

[innerharbor]

He gives her a look, trying to suss something out, before deciding he doesn't have enough information to make up his mind. He keeps eating his food. "You have never heard of soy," he says after a fair amount of thought. It's not a question.

[justashotaway]

This is, apparently, something he expects others to know. She shifts a little, turning her attention back to her meal--her claw disappears so she can reach for her spoon and start eating her turnips. "I know what beans are."

[innerharbor]

"Can't fucking believe this place," and he keeps eating. Even if it's pink rats, he's not gonna waste real meat.

[justashotaway]

"Why?" It seems like a strong reaction to the fact that the Gallows doesn't serve his preferred variety of bean.

[innerharbor]

"Not a lotta meat where I come from," he says, "the real kind. From animals."

[justashotaway]

She has to think about this--but unfortunately, meat-but-not-from-animals only leads one place for her. "You ate people?"

[innerharbor]

Dull-eyed, Amos answers without offense or any recognizable tone. "No."

[justashotaway]

"Then what did you eat?" Beans is her best guess, but it feels like she's missing some crucial piece of this conversation.

[innerharbor]

A long pause. What the fuck is going on. "Soy substitute. And fungal reconstitutions. I dunno, I'm not a botanist, but it wasn't real meat."

[justashotaway]

"Oh." He doesn't sound angry, exactly--he doesn't sound like much of anything--but she turns her attention back to her lunch for a minute or two anwyay. "You are a Rifter."

It's less question and more a statement provided for confirmation from him. That's the context she's missing.

[innerharbor]

Amos hefts one giant arm onto the table with a dull clank, displaying the glowing green something in his elbow.

"Yeah."

One thing he's already gotten from this chick-- he doesn't have to waste words around her.

[justashotaway]

She looks at his arm with mild interest: normally, she doesn't have a close view of anyone's shard, as most of her friends and acquaintances are from Thedas. "When did you come out of the rift?"

[innerharbor]

Amos shrugs with one shoulder, the effect looking a little like half a wave crashing from one side of his neck. "Recently. The way you guys keep time is fucked."

[justashotaway]

This is a baffling statement. Laura continues to eat her turnips, but with a slightly disbelieving tilt to her brows. "How do you measure time?"

[innerharbor]

"Relatively. What you guys do makes sense for this system."

They clearly have mostly Earth standard hours-- Amos hasn't started feeling jetlagged yet-- but what the fuck is Harvestmere? This planet is a postcard.

[justashotaway]

"Relatively?" There's no spark of understanding in her facial expression. Nothing this man says makes any sense at all.

[innerharbor]

Amos makes the executive decision not to explain relativity to a medieval rube. "Based on where we are," he says instead.

[justashotaway]

"Oh." That makes somewhat more sense, though the idea of traveling doesn't quite justify changing how they measure time passing. "We are not always in Kirkwall, but we use the same system."

[innerharbor]

Amos doesn't sigh, but he knows he would, if he was someone else. "We go to other planets."