[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

[okayimin]

Fuck.

"Dwarves who're rejected by the castes. Forbidden from doing any work that a Caste dwarf could do. So it's join the Carta or pick trash." She tips her head back a little, defiant even though it doesn't mean anything up here, it won't mean anything to him.

[innerharbor]

"Oh, yeah. Got a different word for that, where I'm from."

But it all makes sense. This planet is unerringly unfamiliar, except people, even if they're four feet tall and built like Martians, seem to always follow the same patterns. Power, fear, hunger, gangs, it's always there.

More importantly, though, he notices her look. The way she's daring him to say something. "So you're casteless, huh."

[okayimin]

She does not flinch, because that means nothing on the surface. But she turns her head a little so he can see the brand on her cheek fully. She couldn't hide even if she wanted to.

"I am. Branded and all."

[innerharbor]

"Those fuckers brand you?" Something like anger wakes in his gut. Nothing to do about it now, but he'll keep an eye out. "What about the kids?"

It keeps coming back to that. Why pretend otherwise?

"That burn looks pretty fucking old. Fuck. In Baltimore they just forget about us."

[okayimin]

Something in her relaxes a little, even if his anger is unexpected.

"They don't let you forget in Orzammar," she says, with a bit of a shrug, turning her face back to look up at him, "They brand us when we're children. Soon as you're old enough to survive it or whenever the guards catch you."

[innerharbor]

"'Nother fucking planet, same old shit," Amos murmurs, unable to quite keep whatever's in his chest down, a strange dark tension he'll work out later. "Sounds a lot like places I've been. Real shitholes."

[okayimin]

Planet she can't even begin to fathom, but it doesn't surprise her that this Rifter's seen similar. The little twist of a smile she gives him is humorless.

"Suppose it's the way of things no matter where you are." She takes a step, gesturing for him to follow, "Come on, the road's no place to be talking for long. Where were you headed before this?"

[innerharbor]

Amos shrugs. The anger in his gut is quieted-- for now. "Trying to get a good look at this dump. You got any tips, Sis?"

[okayimin]

She huffs at him. "You go calling any of the other Sisters in Lowtown that and you're liable to get smacked," she tells him, "The taverns are a good a place as any to start with, just be careful if you go near Darktown. You're more likely to find a fight than a drink there."

[innerharbor]

Amos tsks. "Darktown's more like Baltimore than Baltimore."

But he considers it. "Whatever you say, Sis."

[okayimin]

It's so much like any number of Dusters she's stitched over the years, that it's easy to fall into the old rhythms.

"Baltimore can mind itself. I'm the one who's gonna be stitchin' you up if you catch a knife in some nug trap around here."

[innerharbor]

"Duster? What's that mean here?"

Because he's betting it doesn't mean Martian, for all the horses at Pimlico.

[okayimin]

That one's easy enough to answer: "What we call each other. Casteless live in Dust Town, so."

She shrugs. She hasn't really found a surface word that fits the same.

[innerharbor]

"Christ," Amos rumbles. "I owe whoever names things on this planet a kick in the teeth."

[okayimin]

"And yours are better?"

[innerharbor]

"We don't call Baltimore Crime Town."

[okayimin]

Primly as you please: "Hardly our fault if you humans insist on not naming things what they are."

[innerharbor]

Snort. "Yeah, yeah. I appreciate the labelling. When you in town, Sis?"

[okayimin]

"Most days, if there's no work that needs me in the Gallows," she says, "I trade rounds with a few of the other Sisters and midwives who live in Lowtown. Why?"

[innerharbor]

"You in the Gallows?" Amos summons up his rough approximation of charm. He winks. "Guess I'll be seeing you, Sis."

[okayimin]

She snorts and kicks his boot lightly, "So long as it ain't for a knife in your gut. What's your name so I know to listen for it."

[innerharbor]

That's good. He doesn't actually enjoy flirting. It just seemed like what a normal person should do to a nun.

Nuns are very hot.

"Amos Burton," he gives her a shitty little salute, his expression fading back into blankness. "Mechanic, not that people... do that."

[okayimin]

The blankness doesn't bother her so much as it pings something in her brain. It's familiar, though not something she'd ever expected to see on the surface.

"Not that I know of," she says, shaking her head, "I think I've heard Stark talk about it. He's like you." They're still deep enough in Lowtown, she's not inclined to out the man to any eavesdroppers, "It's like metal working, isn't it?"

[innerharbor]

"I can weld," a shrug, casual. "Who's the guy who keeps the ship working out at sea? I'm that guy."

[okayimin]

Her face scrunches up and she shudders. "I don't know anything about boats, Serah Burton, and I don't intend to learn any time soon." She does try to add helpfully, "There are those in Riftwatch who are familiar with that kind of thing. Sailing and the like."