WHO: Fitcher + Wysteria + Flint & You WHAT: Catch-all WHEN: Firstfall-ish WHERE: Kirkwall and stuff. NOTES: Will update if necessary. Feel free to grab me if you want a specific starter/wildcard me, baby.
[She is sitting on a step in one of the Gallows stairwells and cannot fully remember how she arrived there. It is, she thinks very loudly (sometimes one's thoughts are like that - very near and large behind the eyes), rather odd, but is pleased to find herself largely unconcerned.
No trouble. She will sit here for a moment and be perfectly comfortable until she recalls what she is doing and where she is going.
Sounds of footsteps either coming up the stairs or going down them dredges the point of her focus to the present (and away from a serious contemplation of the pattern of dust motes floating in the pale sunlight filtering through the narrow window above her). She scoots amiably to one side on the step so that the footsteps might pass, however cannot quite stop herself from asking—]
Pardon me. Would you tell me which part of the Gallows this is?
[Pausing on the stairs, Benedict meets her gaze with mild bewilderment; Wysteria has been with Riftwatch for some time, hasn't she?
He hesitates for quite a while before he answers, having to first ensure, by looking around and seeing no one else, that this isn't some kind of prank.]
[Ah, excellent. Not far from her room then. How lovely it would be to lie down for a time. The thought drifts vaguely about the air, diaphanous and rather like trying to catch smoke, and for a long moment she is distracted by the texture of it. What floor of the old mage tower are they nearest? Come to think of it, which floor is her room on—?
With a soft start, she realizes it has been some seconds since something was asked of her. What was it?]
Oh, [A laugh, attempting for dismissive rather than embarrassed.] Yes, yes of course. Quite all right. But thank you for asking. It's very kind of you.
[SCOFF. She has not been lost since— Well, let's not delve into specifics and instead let it be said that she knows full well when it is best to hire a guide or inquire for directions.]
By-- [Hm. Now that he mentions it, she cannot recall. Having no answer should be the thing which troubles her, but it is the having no answer and confessing to it and the idea of the strange creeping embarrassment which must be inevitable from such a thing which must be inevitable which actually causes her to frown very slightly.]
Well, by whatever has turned me around. Perhaps I became overwarm and fainted while I climbed the stairs. These things sometimes happen to young ladies, you know. We possess delicate constitutions.
[She would scoff at anyone who suggested such a thing to her face, but it makes for a very convenient defense in the moment.]
[No, that is quite all right, would be the most respectable answer. However, after a moment's pause Wysteria instead asks—]
I don't suppose you might point me in the correct direction of the floor on which I reside. I should very much like to lie down. For just a moment or two, [she hastens to add.] Until the lightheadedness passes. On account of my very delicate constitution.
[He opens his mouth, closes it, and sighs through his nose; as much as he might like to, pointing a lightheaded person on the stairs in the right direction is not the answer when he should help her there.]
Here.
[He comes a bit closer and offers one arm for her to take.]
[Just up a flight, then. He stumbles slightly when Wysteria's weight pulls on his arm, but he straightens up quickly-- as abysmal as his diplomacy skills can be, this is one thing that's been bludgeoned into his mind since he attended his very first party as a little boy.]
[That sharp looks rapidly develops into a full bristle.]
On second thought, now that I'm upright I feel miraculously steady. Indeed, I believe I am perfectly capable of finding my way along on my own. Good day, sir.
[Wysteria makes to advance up the stairs past him. Never mind that the single rooms in question are definitively in the opposite direction.]
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a stairwell, the gallows (ota);
No trouble. She will sit here for a moment and be perfectly comfortable until she recalls what she is doing and where she is going.
Sounds of footsteps either coming up the stairs or going down them dredges the point of her focus to the present (and away from a serious contemplation of the pattern of dust motes floating in the pale sunlight filtering through the narrow window above her). She scoots amiably to one side on the step so that the footsteps might pass, however cannot quite stop herself from asking—]
Pardon me. Would you tell me which part of the Gallows this is?
no subject
He hesitates for quite a while before he answers, having to first ensure, by looking around and seeing no one else, that this isn't some kind of prank.]
...the old mage tower.
[He narrows his eyes.]
Are you all right?
no subject
With a soft start, she realizes it has been some seconds since something was asked of her. What was it?]
Oh, [A laugh, attempting for dismissive rather than embarrassed.] Yes, yes of course. Quite all right. But thank you for asking. It's very kind of you.
no subject
Of course.
[A pause.]
...but you're lost?
[Just double checking.]
no subject
[SCOFF. She has not been lost since— Well, let's not delve into specifics and instead let it be said that she knows full well when it is best to hire a guide or inquire for directions.]
No, I've merely been turned around. Briefly.
no subject
By... what?
[This better not be another curse.]
no subject
Well, by whatever has turned me around. Perhaps I became overwarm and fainted while I climbed the stairs. These things sometimes happen to young ladies, you know. We possess delicate constitutions.
[She would scoff at anyone who suggested such a thing to her face, but it makes for a very convenient defense in the moment.]
no subject
...can I... help you to somewhere? ['That isn't the stairs' is implied.]
no subject
I don't suppose you might point me in the correct direction of the floor on which I reside. I should very much like to lie down. For just a moment or two, [she hastens to add.] Until the lightheadedness passes. On account of my very delicate constitution.
no subject
Here.
[He comes a bit closer and offers one arm for her to take.]
Which tower do you live in?
no subject
[With a firm hand at his arm, she pulls or pushes or wobbles to her feet.]
One of the single rooms.
[That seems for some reason like a vital detail.]
no subject
...are you sure you're all right?
[He thinks on it a moment.]
...you're not high, are you?
[A trickle of amusement creeps into his tone.]
no subject
I'm perfectly well. Your concern has been noted, sir.
no subject
It's all right, [he insists,] if you are.
[Holding up both hands defensively, he's the picture of innocence.]
no subject
On second thought, now that I'm upright I feel miraculously steady. Indeed, I believe I am perfectly capable of finding my way along on my own. Good day, sir.
[Wysteria makes to advance up the stairs past him. Never mind that the single rooms in question are definitively in the opposite direction.]
no subject
[if she falls again, and he was right here, that's not going to go well for either of them.]
I'm sorry. [He follows her up one step, holding his hand out imploringly.]
Please. I'll take you to your room.
no subject
No, that is quite all right. As I said, I am perfectly fit and so you may attend to whatever duties would otherwise occupy this hour, thank you.
no subject
...I'm sorry, [he says again, but lets her go. So much for banter, or making any kind of good impression.
He wouldn't have expected to be this sad about it.]