open

[acreage]

WHO: Holden, you!
WHAT: A catch-all for the month(?)
WHEN: After Satinalia and onwards
WHERE: Kirkwall, Gallows
NOTES: There'll be post-murderhaus stuff in here, so there may be references to some of the horror movie occurrences!

Starters will be in the comments! I'm sorry, I'll write a real log one day.

Comments

[innerharbor]

Not touching that. That is an ugly shape that only Naomi is qualified to suture and mend. He just nods and goes along with it.

"Y'know," Amos says, "before the war, they used to keep mages cooped up? I figure it'd 'cause of the magic stuff. That's how they adapted."

Okay, not touching, maybe poking with a stick.

[acreage]

His eyebrows pull together, shoulders tensing into a sharper line. He knows, he knows that he can't just throw himself at every battle in the universe. That he isn't qualified, that it's arrogant, that it's stupid, that it's futile, and that it's only likely to end in his own death, and probably others' too.

He doesn't have to like it, though.

"We have to do good," he echoes slowly, "where we can, and when we can." Naomi's absence feels like more of a bleeding wound than any physical cut, but maybe this is the only way to deal with it. "That's not going to be everywhere. Fine. It wasn't back home, either. But it will be somewhere, sometimes. Riftwatch might be our best bet to do that while we're here. It's the only real bet I know about, anyway."

He looks at Amos as he says it, steady, but soft. It's a question, not an order; it's trust. Amos's opinion is valuable, and he wouldn't let Holden lead them off a cliff.

[innerharbor]

Amos considers it, like tasting brandy that's too expensive for him to ever drink. This isn't his thing to decide, really. The only think he can decide is if Holden's decision is worth following.

He thinks of Sawbones' wide, sad eyes.

"Yeah," he says, "this place is a real pain in the ass."

[acreage]

He sighs, leans back against the pillows and takes another drink of coffee.

"We'll figure it out."

[innerharbor]

"We gotta," Amos agrees. "What the hell happened to you, anyway?"

[acreage]

He does not...put down...his mug.

[innerharbor]

Amos doesn't blink, but he does slowly begin to lean forward.

[acreage]

This coffee is not too warm anymore, so it's pretty easy to keep...drinking...for a long moment here.

[innerharbor]

He's smiling very... gregariously.

[acreage]

God, okay, fine.

"You ever hear of an iron maiden?"

[innerharbor]

"Nope," still smiling, "use small words."

[acreage]

"Yeah," he sighs, because he expected that. "Big coffin full of knives. Including, in this case, one particularly big knife."

[innerharbor]

Amos is silent for a long time, staring at Holden's midsection. "So," he says quietly, "if I hold you up to the light, can I see through you?"

[acreage]

"How about we don't try finding out."

He is finishing his stupid coffee!!

[innerharbor]

Amos shrugs; he'll take that under advisement.

"How'd you get out?"

[acreage]

The absoluTE disrespect. He drains the mug, lowers it to his lap and taps his fingers along the side.

"I had help. Have you met Richard Dickerson? We were in the same room; he was cuffed to a table. I don't know what that crazy motherfucker planned to do when he got back, but we didn't have to find out."

He has more of an idea than he'd like to, just considering that Dalish elf who'd also been — actually no, he goes still briefly. Not finishing that thought, nor revisiting that memory.

[innerharbor]

Amos nods along. "Lotta people get off on pain and struggling. Not surprising. So you got help from somebody and they gave you a fake name?"

[acreage]

"Honestly? After that, I'm willing to call him whatever he wants."

Saving his life is a free pass on the name callout.

[innerharbor]

"So you got out thanks to Two Dicks," Amos says, "and the Sister, and enough people to run a peep show. Everybody make it?"

[acreage]

"And Athessa," he murmurs, "And Barrow, and, yeah, the others."

There is no universe where he repeats and enough people to run a peep show. He'd name them all, but Amos likely knows, or can find out, if he wants to.

"Everyone got out alive, thank God. It could've been worse than it was."

No thanks to him, but a positive's a positive.

[innerharbor]

"Huh," he murmurs, "have to make the rounds later. You wanna give out fruit baskets?"

Only long association with Amos would let a man know he's joking. Longer association would tell that man that if he said yes, Amos would still get the fruit baskets.

[acreage]

Holden actually bursts out laughing, then has to lean backwards with a "Shit, ouch."

Maybe the joke is or isn't quite as funny as all that, but it's just nice to be — back.

"I just remembered you actually can get fruit baskets around here."

The novelty is fresh again, even after all these weeks here; probably will continue to be, every time they discover something new that's easy to get around here.

[innerharbor]

Amos makes the sounds of laughter in return, because it's what's expected. "Shit, yeah. As long as you don't tear a new hole in yourself. The food'll fall right out."

[acreage]

"I'll do my best," he says, wry, and adds more softly, "What I wouldn't give for an autodoc around here. I think I saw someone carrying a tank of leeches earlier."

[innerharbor]

"Yeah. Cap? If I get busted up, put me in the ground before they pull out the leeches." It's not entirely serious, but not entirely not.