closed. // spun like the spell you spin

[littlemissfutility]

WHO: Beth Greene, Wysteria Poppell, Ellis
WHAT: Beth comes out of a rift, promptly freaks.
WHEN: Early Cloudreach
WHERE: Outside Kirkwall
NOTES: Violence, other notes tbd

Here are the things Beth remembers: The hard metal of surgical shears, made warm from her skin. The fabric of Dawn's uniform against her hand. And an explosion of sound, the incomprehensible crack of a gun right beside her before everything stops.

That's it. But it's enough that she can piece together why she opens her eyes and she's not in a hospital anymore. Muddy ground, a green glow that's so acidic it doesn't look real, the smell of grass and saltwater--someplace outside, somewhere she's never seen before. There's a screeching that puts chills down her neck, and then she realizes that she's actually cold. And something else, hooded and swooping down at her like an angry crow, tattered fabric flapping around it as it comes at her.

She doesn't scream, but it's a near thing, her breath catching painfully in her throat. (You can't scream, more will come.) Fumbling for her knife--the shears are long gone, stuck in the chest of a woman she hopes to God is dead--she stabs at the creature. It gets close enough that she can see its face is hideous, worse than walkers. Its breath is freezing, its claw-like hands sharp at the tips, and all she can think (besides don't scream, don't scream) is I thought Hell would be warmer.

Comments

[heorte]

In the midst of their conversation, Ellis is doing his best to keep out of the way. There's nothing he can do for her hair, so he drops to her hands instead, swiping away mud. It gives her space as well, Ellis sat back on his heels, expression settled into quiet interest while he listens.

The neat-punched hole doesn't make sense to him. An arrow wouldn't leave such a mark behind. But it doesn't bode well, considering the blood in her hair. Ellis can't know without looking, and he doesn't care to say as much aloud, but maybe all those fears aren't so unfounded.

[littlemissfutility]

"Oh." She lets Mister Ellis touch her hands, telling herself not to pull away. (It's not like you have to, your knife is right there if you need it. And there's something comforting about it, the same kind of feeling as her mother stroking her hair when she was sick. But it's not easy to sit still for that kind of attention anymore, even if she wishes it was.) And she tries to figure out what to say to a story of birds in suitcases and traveling on the water.

It turns out she's not really sure what to offer in return. She's quiet, looking down at her hands and Ellis' and the bracelets on one wrist. "I...wasn't asleep. It was real, I know it was."

[heirring]

What to say to such a thing? Wysteria glances from Miss Greene's bowed head, to Ellis—the uncertainty written clear in her expression—and then back again.

She at least sounds all light and easy when she says, "And yet here you are, as well as anyone. So whatever dreadful thing might have happened to you there, is seems to hardly have followed here. Why, with a bath and fresh clothes and perhaps a little attention from a healer, you will be right as rain."

[heorte]

The motion of Ellis' hands has stilled.

There is some conflict in his expression, a tension working through him. What comfort can he offer her? (Is there some element of tired jealousy working at the very edge of his awareness? It's farther from him now than it was before.) The tears have passed, but what's left in their wake is harder to read.

The shard in her palm glimmers beneath the fold of his scarf. Ellis looks at it before raising his eyes to Wysteria and away, back to Beth's resigned face.

"Aye, Wysteria's right. Whatever happened, it can't touch you now."

Dead or not, that's the truth. The rift is closed. Nothing can reach through after her now.

"You're alive here," he asserts, steadily. Whatever that means in the grand scheme of things, it's hopefully some kind of comfort.

[littlemissfutility]

They both make a good point--a couple of them, actually. The obvious one, that she's basically alive right now, even if she's not supposed to be. And the one that she hears underpinning Mister Ellis' careful speech and Wysteria's bright chatter, whether it's actually there or not: She can't just sit here and cry all day, even if it feels like it'd be the easiest thing in the world.

Beth presses the fingers of one hand against her other wrist, right by the thin green shard. (I'm gonna need more bracelets is the only thing she can think, looking at it.) And her blood's still moving there, her heartbeat echoing through her veins. If she should be dead right now--or worse, mindless and rotting, nothing behind her eyes anymore--it seems like God forgot.

"Where are we?" she asks, swiping one more time at her wet face and making herself stand up. If the words still come out wobbly, they at least aren't accompanied by more tears.

[heirring]

Taking a half step back to accommodate Beth standing, Wysteria puts her hands briefly at her own hips and then decides that isn't quite right and removes them again. She ought to have brought the thaumoscope with her. Then she'd have a series of dials to fiddle with, or at the very least might now be making adjustments to the lay of the case's carrying strap.

"We are in Thedas, just across the border into Wildervale. And as I suspect that means nothing at all to you, you might think of it as having gone from one room—wherever you came from—down the hall, which is the Fade, and then into some adjacent parlor. That is Thedas. Where did you come from? Perhaps we know it."

[heorte]

Beth standing prompts Ellis to rise back to his feet as well, hands drawing back to occupy himself with waterskin and now-muddied (and bloodied) scarf. He recedes a step further back, to stand beside Wysteria.

While he doesn't offer any additional clarification about their surroundings, he does silently pass the waterskin to Wysteria to re-cork while he wrings the excess dampness from his scarf. It's space left for Beth to answer, even if Ellis isn't so optimistic about recognizing any place she names.

[littlemissfutility]

"Georgia?" she offers, though it's hard to imagine either of them are going to light up with recognition. "I was in Atlanta when..."

Never mind.

Belatedly, it occurs to her that Wysteria sounds like she's from England, so Atlanta might not help a lot. So she adds, glancing at both their faces in search of some recognition, "In America?"

[heirring]

Georgia clearly means nothing if the stock look of pleasantness is anything to go by. However, the alteration which overtakes Wysteria's face us immediate in response to this last bit. She lights up, blue eyes all bright and a palpable sense of relief (because it is so nice, isn't it? To just know things) colors every corner of her seemingly elastic expression.

"Oh America! Yes, we are very familiar with that. It's on Earth. A great number of the Rifters in the company are from there. Why, the Provost himself is. In fact I would say it is almost common. Do you work for Shield as well?"

[heorte]

The first thought: She didn't arrive zippered into a bag.

But thinking on it a moment, Ellis can't be certain if that's a necessary requirement of the job. It occurs to him that Fitz had said very little of it, and Tony's initial reaction had been unfavorable.

A thoughtful frown creases his face, expression attentive even as he makes a second go of wringing water from the scarf.

[littlemissfutility]

"We...don't really work for people. Not anymore." For the most part, anyway--she can't think of much she'd like to get into less than the exceptions.

Maybe Shield is what someone calls their group, though. If you were living in a police station, it'd be a pretty good name.

[heirring]

"Oh, my apologies!" Wysteria hastily interjects, immediately reverting to that fidgeting, flighty state at Ellis' elbow. "I shouldn't wish you to think that you looked as if you required a profession. That was very rude of me."

Imagine. Have to keep a job. How very poor.

"Well no matter. My meaning is that we are very familiar with Earth and that you will hardly be alone once we return to the Gallows. --Which is the name of the fortress which Riftwatch occupies. It is a very grim name for the thing, but I believe nothing can be done to change it as it is one of those very old institutions and you would never successfully convince anyone it had been renamed even if you tried to."

[heorte]

"Aye, you're not the first," is Ellis' quiet contribution, before advising, "The templar tower has hot water."

Because presumably that'll be more relevant to Beth when they arrive.

[littlemissfutility]

"That's not what I--" she starts to say, in the space between Wysteria's comments, but it drops quietly away. Maybe it's better if that's what they think: I'm just that rich, jobs still exist and I don't want one.

Something about the idea makes her throat ache like she might cry again, but Beth doesn't want to think about the why right now. There's other things to figure out, anyway, small things and large. Why she's here instead of nowhere, whether she should really be tagging along with the first people she meets and assuming they mean well, just what a provost is.

Instead, she says, tentative, "Hot water sounds good. Do I, um, owe you anything? For helping me."

[heirring]

"Owe us?" Wysteria's laugh is a thing that's more baffled than it is truly humorous--brief and lopsided as she sets to dusting off the front of her skirts. They're not really particularly dirty, but it gives her something to occupy her hands with.

"Not at all. Although Mister Ellis and I need to fetch the stakes scattered about this field from where they've been planted and collect them all to return to that bag there. If you like, you may help us fetch them, and then we may be on our way back to Kirkwall. We have been measuring the Fade energy which was emitted by your Rift and they are part of the instruments we use to do it. It would hardly do to leave them and three sets of hands at the work will be much better than two."

[heorte]

"Aye, we'll make quick work of it together," Ellis agrees. He touches Wysteria's elbow briefly, drawing her attention to him as he nods towards the far end of the field. "I'll start there, and the pair of you can gather the ones to the left and right. They're nearer."

Normally, Ellis would gather them himself. But he thinks Beth and Wysteria both would benefit from some minor task at the moment. Wysteria's offer is a useful one.

[littlemissfutility]

Wysteria looks at her like she's crazy, so that's...something, Beth thinks. (Or hopes.) Still, she keeps all of this lodged in the back of her mind: two people came to get her, they helped her kill a demon, they helped her close up the tear she came through. What that's worth, she's not sure, but it's not nothing--even if they don't look like they want her to pay up right now.

"Okay. Sure." She's saying it more to herself than them, even if she doesn't quite sense as much. This still doesn't feel real. Her hand moves again to the scarred skin under her jaw, knuckles brushing up against it. "Um--thanks."

Anyway, she'll go start picking up these stakes.

[heirring]

Wysteria hesitates for just a moment as Beth moves off as directed, attention flicking from the stakes to the girl and then finally to Ellis where her expression becomes wide eyed and all eyebrows as if to silently communicate 'Well this is strange and terrible, isn't it? Would you rate this higher or lower than the bird girl?' or perhaps 'How very fascinating that someone has arrived because of some mortal wound rather than by dreaming; when do you think might be an appropriate time to interrogate her about the details?' all through the sheer force of her expression.

And then she looses herself, trotting gamely off to fetch to the righthand stakes, calling out to the world at large, "Let us be quick about it for I should like very much to return to the Gallows and have myself a hot bath before it gets too late."

Good work, everyone.