acreage: (Default)
jiminy cricket. ([personal profile] acreage) wrote in [community profile] faderift2021-03-31 11:30 am

open

WHO: James Holden and YOU
WHAT: Catch-all for April
WHEN: Fantasy April
WHERE: The Gallows and Kirkwall, mostly, but around
NOTES: Starters in the comments, lmk if you'd like something bespoke or feel free to drop in a wildcard.






archademode: (It’s time to rise)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-04-13 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"Regardless," if there's a stubbornness dwelling in anything that evokes the image of bullish horns, perhaps it's best that Gabranth's own helm carries them, for his stance is clearly iron-clad, and his tone— well, it reads as the sort most often carried by those most used to being heeded when they speak.

His hand remains outstretched, his own faceless attention clearly locked in place.

"Your day was spent on the whole of this endeavor. I would not bear the cost of that without recompense."
archademode: (of the ashes)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-04-14 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
There is— at the tail end of Holden's refusal— the start of a weighted ( and perhaps possibly irritated) pause. True that his eyeless stare belies nothing, but the silence...

Well, it might prove shocking how loud that manages to be.

Still, he's not the immovable creature his past once defined him as without exception. After what must feel like an entirely too-long period of time, his offer recedes, tucked away at his side in lieu of setting the edge of his palm against the belt at his hip.

"Your name, then. So that I might call upon you."
archademode: (Leaving traces of emotion)

[personal profile] archademode 2021-04-14 05:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"Gabranth." Judge Magister by preference, but he's been warned away from that title and all its unsettling implications more than enough times by now to know that its use need end beyond the Gallows and its inner workings.

No matter how much it pains him.

Still, that weighty silence clings a lone beat longer, before Gabranth's own broad silhouette presses past Holden's own without any further formality— thick, dark cloak trailing so closely between them in passing that it might even catch Jim's side if he doesn't opt to move.

"Expect me soon."