faderift | open.

WHO: Ellis + OTA
WHAT: Dream aftermath and other miscellany.
WHEN: Post-dream, Wintermarch/Kingsway-ish.
WHERE: Gallows, etc.
NOTES: A handful of opportunities to bump into/corner Ellis post-dream. If you want something in particular, hit me up for a starter or just go ham in the comments.

GALLOWS

Normally, Ellis lays out his mending across Wysteria's kitchen table, well away from open flame or acid-based chemicals, but close enough to participate in the rise and fall of conversation between Wysteria and Tony and sometimes Fitz. It had become a comfortable routine.

But the dream rattled something loose, enough so that Ellis has instead taken up space close to the fire with a small pile of items set on a stool to be repaired. Noose has made an appearance, claimed Ellis' booted foot as resting place for a lazy nap. Intermittent twitches and small yips punctuate the work.

He'd been whistling softly, but the song tapers to a halt at the approach of a third party. There's a beat of quiet, Ellis' eyebrows raising in silent question. There is a second chair, but surely Noose is the bigger draw between them.

"Aye?" comes slowly, prompting, as Noose slits open one eye to assess the newcomer before yawning almost comedically loudly in punctuation.

FIELD WORK

In his experience, Tantervale is almost always muddier than it should be. The passing snowfall has turned the roads to chilly slush, and the spatter of it has streaked horse and rider thoroughly long before they've made their way to the spot marked on the map and discovered the ruins in question are set further beyond the scrubby, barren spate of trees. One crumbling tower is visible from the road, the only sufficient marker guiding them forward.

So far, no one has been obliged to dismount. And once off the road, the chance of mud splatter is greatly reduced. Small blessings.

"Are we certain there's anything of value to be found?" Ellis questions mildly. It's a little late to abandon the venture, regardless of mud, snow drifts and dubiously accurate maps. But exactly what they're recovering could stand to be clearer. "Long lost valuables from the Viscount Aravind's forefather's collections" isn't as helpful as Viscount Aravind might have considered when lodging his request with Riftwatch.

WILDCARD.

( do literally whatever you want, i'm not the boss of you. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The cup is accepted, Ellis handling it carefully against the potential for spills or drops. He hasn't dropped a cup in a long time, even in Wysteria's kitchen where minor fires are common, but he doesn't care to test his luck. He claims the edge of his own bed, settling with the cup as he shakes his head over her statement.

"It's not," he reassures her, though there is still some specific question as to her determination to—

There is a difference between forging an understanding as to what came before, and kindling a friendship in spite of it. Ellis finds himself a little bit at a loss as to why she's pursuing the latter.

"Is this about company at this early hour, or do you need something in particular?"

Adrasteia is halfway through a sip of her coffee when Ellis asks his question, and she takes a moment to swallow and gather her thoughts. She has a sense of what she wants, though not exactly what she wants to say, yet she doesn't have a good sense of whether or not Ellis would appreciate or even accept the offer from her.

From anyone, really. Some Wardens are more personally isolated than others, for their own myriad of reasons.

"Nothing in particular." A beat. "Well, that may not be entirely true."

She sighs, holding the cup in her lap and looking at it for a moment before meeting Ellis' gaze. "I'd like us to be friends. If you're amenable." The cup is rotated slowly. "If not, well." She smiles. "I promise I'll leave well enough alone."

It shouldn't catch him so off-guard, but it does.

Studying her face, he can't detect any flicker of humor. He hadn't expected to find any. Adrasteia is not the sort of person who would draw humor from a proposition like this. But still—

"Why?" feels like a fair question to ask.

Adrasteia is kind-hearted. She is generous where she need not be. Ellis knows this. But he can't divine this particular motivation; is it pity, drawing her here with breakfast and this offer?

"I could use friends. A friend."

She nods, still turning the cup in her hands. "Everyone went to Weisshaupt except for me, or at least that's what it felt like. I stayed behind, I tried to help people but I stayed behind because I couldn't deal with... with the fallout." With people she cared about and respected getting it so wrong. With what it meant for the rest of them.

"Then the news from the Anderfels got worse and worse and I couldn't get there no matter how hard I tried." She shrugs a little, looking away at her hands and then forcing herself to look back at Ellis. "I figure you could too. But like I said... I'll leave well enough alone if that's better."

No one's been so blunt in their intentions. Truthfully, he'd stumbled his way into such connections almost on accident. What does he do with Adrasteia and her intentions laid out so clearly?

Ellis' reply comes slowly. There is food on the tray between them, and his attention diverts to the process of folding over a slice of bread around egg and meat.

What would it have been like, to have arrived too late? Does it strike Ellis as a relief only because of that long, miserable stretch of time living alongside the consequences of what had been wrought in the desert?

"I wouldn't mind," he tells her, looking up at last from the tray. "But I can tell you, you won't have any trouble finding yourself friends here. So there's no need to rely on..."

One hand parting from it's work, turning up between them. Adrasteia is bright and kind and easy to know. She'll have friends. She needn't settle for a familiar, questionable face.

Adrasteia is not built for what-ifs, herself. She's spent the last decade setting them aside in favor of living in the moment, and she isn't inclined to change that now, especially seeing as how becoming a Warden is what garnered her that skill in the first place.

She doesn't want to focus on what could have happened. She doesn't think she'd ever be able to stop once she got started.

He refocuses on the food between them and she, for her part, finishes the coffee in her teacup instead of staring at him further. When Ellis speaks again Adrasteia looks up and smiles.

"Oh." She chuckles a little. "I'm sure you're right, but." A shrug. "I've wanted to be friends a while." She doesn't find his face, or anything about Ellis, questionable; she'd protest if she knew he thought of himself as such.

Edited 2021-04-25 02:07 (UTC)

The thing about the Gallows, Kirkwall, Riftwatch, is this:

Ellis is allowed some distance from what he'd done. He is allowed to exist here as if he had not chosen wrong, as if it had only been the chaos of the coup that had given him opportunity to leave rather than follow the rest of Warden forces into Corypheus' grasp.

"Alright," he says, after a moment. Alright as if it such a simple thing, and he is not trying to parse what such a friendship might look like.

Adrasteia would say it's very simple, so Ellis does not remark to her that it feels complicated. Instead, he nudges the plate of toast across the tray towards her in quiet suggestion.

Ah, right. Food. Adrasteia smiles and picks up a piece of toast before also grabbing some meat and cheese and a few scraps of greens and stacking them atop one another. "Thank you," she says, and before she can think of some other foolishness to express herself with, takes a bite of her open sandwich stack.

It's pretty good, actually. The coffee wasn't terrible either, a point of fact in favor of the kitchens here. Her hands rest in her lap as she chews and her eyes look over various details of the room once more instead of watching him eat. It's nice, she tells herself, this room and this person and this moment. It's not terrible.

So many things have been terrible.

She swallows, and clears her throat, before pouring more coffee. "I'm glad I came here." A pause. "I considered running away, before. More than once."

open.

no subject

no subject

puts shamed hand over timestamps

squeezes hand instead

my shameful snail pace continues

there is no judgement here, especially over pace 💖

bless u

/blows kisses in your direction