scouting mission: opening doors.

[glandival]

WHO: Aenor Dinadhal, Caric Van Kassel, Ellis, Sabine, Vanadi de Vadarta, Vance Digiorno
WHAT: The gang are sent on a mission to the Anderfels to retrieve an eluvian from a lake and install it in Hossberg.
WHEN: Drakonis
WHERE: Hossberg, the Anderfels
NOTES: TBA

Comments

[highborn]

He grins, but still manages to sound earnest when he says, "I'll not take that lightly."

He takes a few steps closer to shore, only to shrug off his own heavy leather jerkin and gloves, and shake out a few pockets of items he'd really rather not be dampened (including a small handful of knives). It still leaves him with two layers of thinner shirt, which will do. On the way back out toward her, Vanadi reaches out a hand -- the one with the gleaming shard in it -- to request Aenor's.

[dinadhal]

She takes his hand without hesitation, once he's relieved himself of his burdens. (Wise of him not to carry all that into the water--it's a wonder he didn't sink when they arrived.) "Swimming, this is something you do often?"

[highborn]

He closes his fingers around hers, grip firm without being too tight, and starts a slow wade out into the deeper water.

"Mm, not lately, it's been some fifty years. But you never really forget, you know?

[dinadhal]

"Fifty years!" she exclaims, delighted to have so misjudged his age. The water creeps up their legs--up Aenor's rather faster--as they walk further in. "Ah, I hope that much is true. In these fifty years, what have you done instead?"

[highborn]

He looks faintly amused, as it's gone from strange to entertaining that people here are surprised by his age.

"Mm, well ... there were a lot of parties," he says. "And ... hm, primarily just the parties, really."

[dinadhal]

"Parties," she repeats, as if she's expecting that to be some kind of euphemism. In her life, such things have been few and far between; no one could have made a life simply waiting for the next one. "Parties, that's all?"

[highborn]

The water is just past his waist now, and Vanadi doesn't slow the pace. Except of course it's quickly less walking and more a glide, as the water deepens. He offers a shrug.

"Parties, yes. A bit of travel. A business venture here or there. There weren't many demands on my time, you see."

[dinadhal]

The water is at Aenor's chest, or nearly, at this point, and if he's not going to slow, she certainly is. They're fast approaching the point where she'll have to figure out just how one swims, whether she likes it or not. But if she's concerned, she doesn't show it besides getting a little more cautious about the steps forward she takes. "Riftwatch, it must be very different."

[highborn]

Fine, fine, he'll slow, and turns more to face Aenor, their joined hands held high toward the surface of the water.

"Oh, it's much better company, to be sure." He eyes her thoughtfully, and with decidedly more interest, "How able a swimmer would you say you are?"

[dinadhal]

"Coming up from the eluvian, it didn't drown me." It's as much swimming as she's ever done--much of it ineffective paddling, much of it clinging to Caric's coat as it billowed in the water. "The Anderfels, they are not known for their water. Not much swimming to be done."

I lived along the Lattenfluss, but I didn't swim in it, lies unsaid. For the purposes of Riftwatch, she's spent her life crossing the dead lands between oases. Traveling the length of the river, endlessly back and forth, was another life entirely.

[highborn]

I didn't drown isn't the most shining endorsement of skill, but it's not nothing. He lifts a hand to request her other one, and should he get it, pulls her slowly a few steps deeper.

"You would think the kicking part is perfectly intuitive," he says, "But it's not so. The instinct is to hold your feet as if for walking, when really you ought to keep your toes pointed. Your foot becomes a paddle, you see. You can hold yourself perfectly well in the water with only kicking, with enough familiarity."

[dinadhal]

And so they walk deeper into the water, and the likelihood that Aenor will drown now--ambling blithely into a substance designed by the gods to force the air from one's lungs and leave them senseless--seems to her somewhat increased. Vanadi, however, seems entirely unbothered, his hands steady and voice steadier.

"Ah," she says, willing enough for the moment. "Like the ducks, their feet below them."

[highborn]

Like the ducks. Has Vanadi ever actually looked closely enough at a duck to agree with her? Not so far as he can remember, but of course he nods regardless.

"Just so." He draws her further out, to the point that standing on the rapidly down-sloping ground will no longer serve her. He releases one of her hands, of course, as she'll need that. "Try it."

[dinadhal]

She very much would prefer not to let go of his hand at this moment, but here they are. Carefully, she lets them lift, her body drifting horizontal in the cold water--and adds, teasing, "My feet, they dislike being off the ground."

But the entire purpose here is to teach them otherwise. Aenor points her toes, and she kicks. It involves more splashing than one might normally expect; she's still figuring out just how wide the arc of her legs might need to be for these purposes, what keeping herself afloat really requires.