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

gallows.

[poleaxed]

Jone had a suspicion-- she's heard that voice before, can connect it vaguely to the shape of a face, and yet... she isn't entirely sure until he opens his mouth. Then, ah, it is her target.

She does not sit in the chair aside from... Eli? Elias? It doesn't matter. She has a point to make. It's a stupid one, and she knows it, but people pick scabs regardless of age and temperament.

She does not sit in the chair next to him. She stands, leaning forward, her elbows on the back of an empty chair.

"Oi, lad," she says, voice heavy with an accent that says Fereldan and city and poor for those with ears to hear it. She raises a hand to point at his work. "Dangerous stuff, that."

field work

[lumelume]

"Well," comes a cheerful voice at Ellis' side, the little rusty-haired man shivering in his saddle under bundles of warm clothes, "do we know what the valuable items were made of?"

He smiles hopefully.

tony.

[heorte]

Most days, Ellis wakes early. It's habit. He prefers to be the first to rise, on his feet and about his business before the rest of the Gallows has mobilized. Most of the time, it's just that long-ingrained habit that brings him to consciousness at the break of dawn. However, this particular morning—

It's a short span of time between jolting awake in his own bed with the weight of an eerily real dream in his head to scrambling for his boots. The door to his room bangs behind him. The urge is potential irrational. Ellis knows that even as it propels him all the way to the next tower to the door of Tony's room, where he proceeds to hammer at the frame with increasing intensity.

Can Ellis break down a door? This may be the morning we find out.

holden.

[heorte]

The presence of a new horse in the stable registers almost before Holden does. Ellis has saddlebags slung over one shoulder, which he leaves propped over the partition as he crosses towards Holden and the latest arrival.

"Yours?" comes the question, in lieu of greeting. Noose comes skittering around the corner, blowing past Ellis' legs to snuffle at Holden's ankles. The horse in question doesn't register as worthy of inspection, apparently.

snek.

[heorte]

Is this a chance meeting? It might be. Kirkwall is vast and Lowtown is bustling in spite of the cold, and it would be easy for two people to miss each other in the flow of foot traffic passing up and down the stairs, through the markets and stalls, conversation rising and falling in accordance with the ebb and flow of the crowd.

And yet—

Without ceremony or preamble, Ellis falls into step beside Richard. Richard could be forgiven as well, if he assumed there would be no forthcoming greeting or query. Maybe they simply walk in silence together until their paths part.

"Do you have a moment?" breaks that illusion, said in the wake of two squabbling older men jostling their way past. There's no real expectation on Ellis' face, no hope for a particular answer. Richard may say no. Ellis would leave him be if that were the case.

WILDCARD

[okayimin]

She goes to find him when her work it... Not finished, because it never is and somehow along the way she inevitably finds more. But there's space in between pestering their company with pamphlets and writing out her notes from the morning Lowtown visit. She brings her own doctor bag with her, a beat up thing that's too stained and patched to tell the original color or material.

"Here you are," she says when she finds him, pulling a little wrapped bundle out of her habit pocket as she does, "And here are the heating stones. Remember to be careful when you take 'em out of the fire and watch for cracking, but they should last a bit before that. Now let me see your kit."

wildcard;

[wythersake]

Joselyn isn't here this morning. Chance, or some other meeting —

"If I ask you a personal question," Huff, puff. He is not paying a great deal of attention to the knife. "Will you duck it, or tell me an outrageous lie?"

a card of wild design;

[kantikoy]

It's early. The sun has just barely begun to peek over the eastern edges of Kirkwall; the sky is mostly a darkened blue with a streak of orange on the horizon. Now, there's a knock at Ellis' door.

"Good morning!" Comes the cheerful announcement from the other side. "Someone in the kitchen decided on sausages, egg, and cheese on a croissant with greens for breakfast, and they're going fast, so I bought you some."

It's obviously Adrasteia, and it didn't even occur to her to announce as such.

field work adjacent wildcard (hmu if you want any adjustments)

[overharrowed]

When Julius comes tracking Ellis down one morning, his air is businesslike but unhurried. He certainly could have used the sending crystal if he hadn't been looking for an excuse to take a walk; as it was, he'd been sitting at his desk too long and the errand is a useful pretext.

"Good morning," he calls, catching sight of the Warden he's looking for and adjusting his path to intercept. "Do you have a moment? If I've been informed correctly, you were among those on the errand to Viscount Aravind's ancestral holding." It sounds fancy when put that way.

bears @ tony.

[heorte]

There's a particular tavern they've made a habit of frequenting, mostly due to location. Set in the winding path between ferry and Hightown house, Ellis and Tony have been there enough that Ellis doesn't have to ask for much more than a table. There are two beers on Tony's side of the table when he arrives. Ellis is tipped back in his chair, reading a thick book that's closed once Tony appears on the scene.

"As promised," Ellis greets, all four legs of the chair coming to ground, elbows settling onto the table. "They've the good stew tonight as well."

An uncomplicated piece of good news. Surely that will be well-received.

griffons.

[rowancrowned]

Coupe (the griffon, not the woman) was bought far more cheaply than Coupe (the woman, not the griffon). That said, there was only so much that pieces of salted fish could get from a creature that was cold, and more vitally, bored after hours aloft with nothing interesting happening.

Thranduil tossed another scrap and watched the griffon as she did the particular neck wiggle native usually to birds that passed for a swallow, and turned to Ellis, already re-securing his coat.

"Another half-hour aloft today," he suggested, reaching for Coupe's reins, stomping the mud off his boots. "And then tomorrow, we return to the others empty-handed."