[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]

Now is not the time to bother Holden with the very prescient fact that he hasn't got a clue what Wysteria Cassiopeia Tseng is fucking talking about. Whatever. Follow Holden's lead. He can certainly do that.

Amos takes the stance of a man ready for a fight, weight centered low, hands up in fists, and moves forward into the fray. His hands still feel the burn of alien blood, but that just moves him further, taking another jab, following Ellis' movements, trying to scare or punch these creatures into tight quarters, near the green smudge in existence.

[acreage]

At this point, Holden's just very used to following people around while they're spouting off weird, cryptic babble. Thanks, protoMiller. For his part, he does his best to protect them while they make their way to the Rift, which largely means trying to keep the shield between the three of them and any threats that get too close. He catches maybe one word in five that Wysteria's saying, but that's good enough, probably.

And he finds she's right — once they're close enough, he mimics her motion of raising his hand, feels the pull through

something he hadn't paid attention to earlier, being honest. There'd been a dull pain in his hand he'd attributed to a wound, something to check on when things quiet down. Instead of blood, there's a burst of light, and the Rift starts to seal a little faster.

[heirring]

The crack of the second anchor's interaction with the rift is a real, palpable thing. It sends a ripple through the fleeting shades and wisps circling the gash in the sky and has the mangled demon turning toward the three of them where they're huddled behind the span of Wysteria's circular shield.

"Arm up, if you please sir," is her sharpish demand of the larger of the two Rifters (the other one takes direction very well; how nice), though some of the sunny veneer has been stripped from it - the closing of a rift sends bizarre, pulsing sensation of not quite lain coursing through her fingers and up the length of her arm—

[heorte]

At a point, the demon starts dissolving. The wheezing snarls don't abate, but the pull of the rift catches at it and the solid mass begins coming apart.

This is apparently commonplace enough for Ellis to turn from it to Amos to catch at his wrist, encouraging it upwards before he notes the bare palm.

"Where—?"

Another half-beat of inspection would lead him to the glow on Amos' elbow, but he's probably already unknowingly pushing his luck.

[innerharbor]

Amos lifts his hand, even though it doesn't glow. He feels something, though, like the echo of a bone fracture, the memory of dull pain, in his elbow. Amos raises his arm a little higher, and the green glow reaches forward into an arc of light, anchoring (oh, he gets it now) him to the glowing green smear in the air.

Amos decides he fucking hates this, and is going to try to avoid ever doing it again. Holy shit, is this how Holden felt with the whole... everything? He doesn't wanna think about it.

Yet, the rift begins to weaken, growing slowly smaller.

[acreage]

Slowly but inexorably, the rift twists and shrinks until there's nothing left of it, not even a scar in the sky.

Which doesn't happen too soon in Holden's opinion. He drops his hand once it's done, but keeps the shield aloft as he casts a look around them for any other creatures — or, honestly, anything else that could go wrong about now.

[heirring]

But the beach, though stony and overcast, is quiet save for the hiss of the surf and the shriek of offended birds.

Behind the shield (and the gentleman in possession of it), Wysteria lowers her aching hand with a nod and a brisk, "There. Well done."

And then, lest anyone think themselves safe simply because they aren't likely to be raked by claws or electrocuted by arcane lightning, Wysteria redirects her attention from the stitched together sky to the immediate question of—

"Miss Poppell," she says, by way of introduction as she makes to retrieve the shield from Holden's possession. "And this is Mr. Ellis. I gather the pair of you are familiar to one another already."

[heorte]

Mister Ellis, for his part, has stepped a few paces from Amos to shake gore from the points of his mace. He's clearly content to let Wysteria take the momentary lead in introductions, even if he's keeping both these men in his sights. If his steps have taken him back in Wysteria's direction, well, just a happy coincidence.