open.

[heorte]

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. )

Comments

[rowancrowned]

"Perhaps they went through the Deeproads," Thranduil suggested, with the off-handedness of someone who knew they couldn't take the griffons through if they wanted to and therefore won't be subjected to them. "Through an eluvian, though that is far less likely. We have only a sliver of the search area; someone else may have the luck and glory."

He tugged at the fingers of his gloves, working the blood back into them, quiet, or considering his answer.

"Return the way we came, with information. We cannot possibly engage, and we cannot risk the griffons. Beyond that with be the purview of the Division Heads." There was a bit of fish scale on his coat. He brushed it off. "You are comfortable with," pause, "Butterball?"

[heorte]

"Aye."

The hesitation over the name is marked. Ellis understands it. If it were possible to coax the beast into responding to another name, he might have considered it, but Butterball is interested in mostly what treats are provided to him. Ellis tends to push the envelope just by pressing him into regular flights.

"If they trampled their way into the Deep Roads at a clip, the problem may resolve itself for us," Ellis posits, watching Thranduil's adjustment of the gloves. Once acclimated to how exceedingly tall Thranduil is, he's an easy partner to go about Riftwatch business with. There's a beat of quiet, before he asks, "Did you name yours?"