[Semi-Open, Arrival] Dreaming Wide Awake

[oyedeng]

WHO: Naomi Nagata, James Holden, Amos Burton, a Rescue Crew and OPEN
WHAT: A woman falls out of space and onto Thedas. Some damage is incurred, some recovery time is needed, some reunions are happening. Also: Space resident's first exposure to snow.
WHEN: Covering arrival, quarantine/recovery and first steps in a snowy Kirkwall
WHERE: Wounded Coast, Riftwatch Infirmary, Kirkwall
NOTES: If you want to continue any CWs for description of/discussion of injuries sustained, pain suffered, Holden being a sap

At first, there is nothing. She floats, as she has done all her life, when the ring gate decelerates everything in an instant, and Naomi is knocked out cold.

Her dream is a simple thing. To stand aboard the Rocinante, to hug Alex, to touch her forehead to Amos', to hold Holden close. To tell them all she has to say, and to be welcomed back.

Instead, she comes to when she falls, thin body impacting on hard ground, vision flooding with flickering green, and beyond... the horrifying sight not of metal, not even of the darkness between stars... but of a grey, cloudy sky.

[ ooc: Closed and Open Prompts in comments below. If you'd like to do something else or discuss handwaving/continuing TDM threads, feel free to shoot me a message: inkcharm or Discord: inkcharm#4573.

Please also take a gander at Naomi's Permissions/CWs/Opt-Outs as well as her Info post. ]

Comments

[Open] Gallows/Kirkwall, First Snow post Blizzard

[oyedeng]

Perhaps you meet Naomi on the ferry between the Gallows and the rest of Kirkwell, overwhelmed and in some visible discomfort as she looks out at the water. Feeling eyes on her, she looks at the source of the gaze, wide brown eyes a little cloudy with pain. She shrugs with her hands, not with her shoulders.

"I've never seen this much water just sitting in one place before in my life."

Naomi can be found exploring Kirkwall eventually. Whenever the horizon rears out from in between buildings, it takes her a moment to adjust to feeling dizzy. More wondrous than the sight of Kirkwall itself, though, is what she finds there. Oh, Naomi knows ice. This? She's tentative the first time she reaches out, carefully touches her palm to some untouched snow, and pulls back in surprise when she finds the cold oddly soft to her touch, like finely shaved ice. Her hand leaves an imprint behind. When snow flakes flurry down from the sky she staunchly refuses to look at, Naomi flinches away from the flake at first, eyes wide as she watches more snowflakes drift down.

When the first snowflake touches her cheek, she reaches up, eyes wide with wonder. A soft "oh" falls from her mouth, and then, hesitantly... slowly... she glances up. Snow flakes catch in the dark curls of her hair, on her laches. For a moment, Naomi holds herself very, very still, uncertain and tense as snow flurries lazily around her.

And then there's a sound - a soft laugh, more of a disbelieving giggle, the disbelief and wonder in her eyes making her look overwhelmed. She doesn't even look when she reaches out a hand, just grasps for the nearest person, fingers curling around an offered hand or around someone's elbow or shoulder, eyes never leaving the display. There's a touch of uncertainty and wonder in her voice, quiet and soft: "What is this?" The voice of a woman who has never experienced snow before.

The Hanged Man lures Naomi, later, after she's had her fill of being outside, of unlimited air and snow. There's a lot to be gleaned from shitty bars, after all, and she's not one to say no to a change to kill the ache in her bones alongside her last remaining brain cells with some cheap alcohol.

Hence trying to gain the attention of the first person she can clock as belonging to Riftwatch, and asking with a slight smirk: "Any recommendations?"

[truthtied]

She doesn't know this woman, other than glimpses she's caught around Kirkwall. But it's second nature to offer her hand when the woman reaches out in the midst of her wonder.

"It's snow," she says, smiling. She holds out her other arm to catch some of the flakes on her sleeve, turning to show the woman, "Here, before they melt. If you look close, you can see their shapes."

[oyedeng]

The woman is tall, towering over Naomi in both height and build, and it's by virtue of her disposition that Naomi doesn't feel an instinct to back away. She knows the types of people who use their physical stature to try and intimidate anyone they come across.

So at the prompting, Naomi leans in more closely, looking at the flakes on the woman's sleeve with fascination, mind already tripping over the laws of thermodynamics.

She huffs a laugh, behind her cupped hand so her breath doesn't melt the flakes faster. "They look like small ice crystals, but... softer."

[truthtied]

"That's an excellent way to describe it," Diana says, smiling warmly at the woman. She loves moments like this, the wonder of discovering something new and being able to see that moment happen in another person. She studies the snowflakes on her sleeve herself, admiring the lacy, intricate shapes.

"It's snow. I've been told that each snowflake is different from each other, but I can't say I've ever been able to confirm it. They do tend to blend together after a while." And, of course, it's cold, though that's a drawback Diana is still learning.

[oyedeng]

Cold isn't something Naomi is overly bothered by. Space is... well, it's different perhaps. It's the absence of warmth more than anything else. There's no wet chill that creeps beneath your clothes.

"That's brilliant," Naomi says, lips tugging into a small smile. "Is this a common thing, then? Snow, I mean. I've never seen anything quite like it."

[truthtied]

"In some places, yes, very much so," Diana says, tipping her head to watch the snow fall, "It happens mostly in the winter, in places where it gets too cold to rain." She looks back down, "And I'm afraid that's the extent of my meteorological knowledge. My name is Diana, by the way."

hanged man.

[hornswoggle]

"Nothing with a descriptor in front of it," comes the answer, so smoothly given that it has to be born of long habit and experience. The Hanged Man is not John's particular favorite, but he is a known face among it's patrons. A slight smile as he shifts his grip on his crutch, sizing her up before he adds: "Though I won't discourage you if you're feeling adventurous."

[oyedeng]

Naomi nods slowly, glancing at the man and deliberating for a moment before her lips tug into a cheeky little smile.

"Alright then." She's had fungus based alcohol distilled in dirty space station pipes. Might as well see if this place can shock her. "So what's the worst I could order, and do you want one as well?"

[hornswoggle]

A pause, John humming in consideration over the question.

"The second barkeep, Livie, is known for brewing her own creations in a tub in the basement," John tells her, in the course of moving closer to said bar. "The last batch somehow tasted of cinnamon and pine."

And had been strong enough to make his eyes water, though John assumes that goes without saying. He's never had known any home-brewed creation to do anything less than that. He raps his knuckles on the bar, head tilted towards the stool beside him without making a motion to sit himself.

"Though between us, perhaps I should be buying. What kind of welcome is it to ask you to pay for your own drinks?"

Though here's the joke: John very rarely pays for his own drinks, regardless of which tavern he's set foot in.

[oyedeng]

Cinnamon and pine. There's no recognition in Naomi's eyes over those words as she follows John along, and perhaps a mild confusion, too. For the time being, she chooses not to ask. Her naivety to so many things that are commonplace on any planet will certainly rear its head soon enough, dismayed though Naomi might be about it. She doesn't much enjoy being on the back foot about something - or having to explaining why she would be.

At the offer of him purchasing the drinks, Naomi's look to him turns careful for just a short moment, before she nods. "Sounds good. Much appreciated. I'll make sure to return the favour sometime." It's not distrust - she just knows that people exist who see a transaction in everything. Even among Belters, few things are ever as free as they seem. Why give, when you can barter?

[hornswoggle]

The good cups, John stipulates, leaning over the bar. Is it a good or bad thing that it's something that needs to be asked for?

"I'd prefer to hear something of you, rather than a drink," John says. "Where you hail from, if that's not too invasive a question to start with."

The mystery of cinnamon and pine may soon be solved for her. Livie's face had lit up at the request, and whatever John's personal opinion, he isn't leaving Naomi to suffer the experience on her own. They'll both drink Livie's concoction and suffer the aftertaste. That's a suitable bonding experience, isn't it?

snow snow snow.

[innerharbor]

Amos isn't dressed for the weather, but he's used to going it cold. Space is cold as hell, and Baltimore prepared him for that with harsh winters and stolen jackets. He shrugs most of it off, by now. When it's really cold-- and compared to the freeze of space, this ain't shit-- he keeps his temperature up by exercising, getting his blood up.

Naomi ain't built for that.

Instead, he packs a snowball, and sends it whizzing over her head, hitting a nearby tree. Now that he has her attention, he calls, "pretty, ain't it?"

[oyedeng]

Naomi flinches - less in fear, more just in surprise as something strikes past her head and hits a nearby tree. Not close enough to hit her, but unexpected. Kirkwall still has her mildly on edge, an unfamiliar place with rules she's only just learning. Besides, she's used to tossing power tools around in low gravity - those don't gain the sort of velocity that would surprise her.

Her surprise is cleared up with an explanation when she spots Amos, lips curling into a wry smile. Trust Amos to see something he'd describe as pretty and throw it to get her attention.

"It is," she confirms, smile widening. Alright, she'll admit it - planets have their merit. So much is strange here. This? This is an unexpected, strange delight. "What is it, exactly?"

She bites her lip, then crouches down to gather some of it up in her hands - it's cold, but also loose when she curls her fingers.

[innerharbor]

Amos is scooping and packing another snowball as he speaks. "This? Shit, boss, it's snow. When it's too cold for rain."

With his free hand, he points upward. "Something about the atmosphere hitting right temperature for water to freeze. I dunno that kinda math." Where on Earth (or Thedas, or space) would he have ever had need to learn geosciences?

[oyedeng]

Naomi follows his gaze for a moment, trying to do the math - it's just she doesn't know enough about geoscience either. Why would a Belter need to learn about geoscience, either?

And it's nice, in a way. She's able to quantify and pick apart many thing, calculate her way through existence in space in ways few others can. There's something oddly satisfying about a harmless phenomenon her brain can't quite map out. Like the years of her youth, when that one kibble peddler kept conjuring a button from behind her ear before she got old enough and smart enough to realize his sleight of hand, dispelling the delight.

Naomi watches Amos, and mimics the way he packs the snow together to form a ball that doesn't fall apart. "Frozen rain..." So they get it on Earth, too, or so she assumes. Snow. "So it's just... more water?" So much of it. Surrounding them, falling from the sky, or drifting from it now.

Though... if it's just water...

Naomi looks at the white ball in her hand, then glances up again and frowns at the sky as if it's a big puzzle, before sticking her tonue out to let a snowflake land on it.

[innerharbor]

He tosses his snowball from hand to hand. "It's- you know water. Liquid, solid, gas? Solid form."

He holds up the snowball as an example. Some of the melted ice has already begin to trickle down his wrist. He hefts the snowball before it goes completely soggy, and aims it to just catch the side of Naomi's shoulder. Gentle. But still annoying.

ferry.

[poleaxed]

Jone is not a terribly patient or forgiving person, especially those she just met. Waiting for the ferry is a trial for someone who only finds patience in battle, so she spends her time staring openly at any oddity that crosses her path.

Most elf-blooded folk she's known don't show signs of it on their person. This lady, though, Maker, she looks it. And then she spews some weird shite, and Jone has to comment.

"What, you grew up in a desert, luv?" Jone considers what she's seen of the Hissing Wastes. This bird ain't quite got the accent. Not that the Wastes is the only desert in Thedas, just the only one Jone's seen.

[oyedeng]

The very concept of a desert is just something incredibly theoretical in her mind. Like the idea of forests, or rain. Naomi glances over - and then, startled, glances up. This has to be the tallest woman she's ever seen. She'd tower above Holden, and he's plenty tall from where Naomi stands.

Naomi turns to face her. There's an aborted movement, like she wants to glance further up, toward the sky, and has to stop herself from following through on the movement. Not the time to grow dizzy under much too wide a spread of nothing but atmosphere.

So she crosses her arms instead. The posture doesn't look defensive on her, and she relaxes into the stance a little more.

"Not quite," Naomi admits, trying to find a way how to put it. Thedas doesn't know about space flight. How does she explain her very existence when the people here have no concept of the place she's from. "I'm from a place that has no ground and no sky. Just... rocks, floating in nothing."

Close enough?

[poleaxed]

Jone is quick to judge and slow to think. "Sounds like shite," she says, quick and open. "Glad you're done with it. Wouldn't send me enemy there. Wouldn't send me enemy's dog."

[oyedeng]

Well, Naomi can't quite fault that reaction. For someone from a planet full of water, air and plants, it must seem pretty shit. Plus, Thedas isn't straining under the same overpopulation that has driven humans into the far reaches of space yet, either.

"Shit is all some of us get," Naomi remarks, shrugging with her hands instead of the shoulders. "You know, I've never seen a dog before, either."

[poleaxed]

Jone looks at the Rifter, trying to decide how to take this, as though she doesn't already know. The Maker put her on this disgusting little patch of land He calls Thedas to make things ugly and difficult. She knows her business.

Mostly, though, it'll be funny. "Not all Fereldans have a dog, lady."

ferry;

[pittance]

Caught out watching. The corner of his mouth pulls into a smile: Late, but honest.

"Yeah?"

Doesn't look great, does she? Bit worse than a yard thrashing. Vance jogs a flask up — here — the last wisps of heat still dying in its tin teeth. Smells like spice and the bitter earth.

"What d'you think?"

[oyedeng]

She takes the offered flask reflexively, almost without looking, a small frown appearing between her brows as Naomi contemplates the water a bit longer. Then looks, at the flask first, then at the man. Still getting used to that - that 'people' doesn't just mean human, but also dwarf, elf, qunari. Then again, some Earthers barely consider Belters like her human anymore, so there's that.

Amusement tugs the corners of her mouth up, into a wry grin.

"What, of the water or the drink?"

Her nose hovers, and she's trying to pick out the scents she has no words for. Spices are hard to come by where she's from - soil even more so.

"What is it?"

Curious, not distrustful.

[pittance]

"Mushroom tea," He gestures with a pinky. "World's finest remedy for seasickness. 'Course, works better without the ocean."

There's more than one way to leave a world behind. Vance squints for the ferry: It'll be a while yet.

"So?"

What's she think?

[oyedeng]

A lot of things would work better without the ocean or the wide curve of the sky overhead, Naomi thinks. It's petulant, which is why she doesn't say it out loud. She does take a good sip of the drink, though. Fungus based alcohol she's familiar with; tea not so much.

Her nose wrinkles - it tastes like soil looks. Not unpleasant, just... unfamiliar.

"Strong," she admits. "Spicy. Leaves an aftertaste, doesn't it?"