[CLOSED] You think that all your time is used

[archademode]

WHO: Gabranth, Byerly, Derrica, Diana, Barrow, potentially tba
WHAT: local man has bills to pay, time to take on 100 low level quests
WHEN: catch-all, consider it fairly current with a little give
WHERE: Gallows, Lowtown, tbd
NOTES: catch-all for threads involving (1) millenial judge magister in need of jobs + bonus horsegirl chapter + old men fights

Comments

[truthtied]

[ She notices him long before he calls to her. It is rather impossible to miss the very large suit of armor clanking up to the stables. She thinks Ares for one sharp, disorienting moment before he speaks. And then her expression quirks with a gentle sort of bemusement. ]

I am. And please, only Diana.

[ Even if her bearing screams royalty, she can't carry her titles in this world. She won't say so now, will not begrudge the man his. They each cling to what they need to weather this world. And, of course: ] You would be Judge Magister Gabranth.

[ The Riftwatch stables are private enough, their only company at present the horses. ]

[archademode]

[Her refusal of his offered title is— well, he imagines it must be as difficult for her to be called by it as it is for him to say nothing of it.

Small compromises on both their parts. The little differences between worlds and wants.]

Indeed.

[He likes to think Jone hasn’t said too much about him to influence opinion, but with the daughter of Denerim risk is ever in play.]

I must admit, I am surprised to see you so at ease here. Are you not also a new acquisition?

[He keeps his distance for now, unwilling to draw nearer to either person or animal without any sort of expressed segue; the fact remains that this is, at its heart, a matter of acclimation and trust.]

[truthtied]

[ Her eyebrows raise at the choice of words. ]

I am a new arrival, yes. [ A softer reproof than some of her sisters would offer to the implication of acquisition. The bracelets at her wrists do not have the same shine in this world, but their weight is the same. ]

You might say this isn't my first time. My people were isolated for centuries before we were compelled to rejoin the wider world. I won the right to represent them as Ambassador and so off I went. [ She leans against a stable door, rubbing the nose of the dapple horse that pokes his head out. ] At least this time we all appear to have a common language.

wow thank you for hiding this notif DW

[archademode]

I might argue that this world is less inclined to grant leave than the one you left behind.

[It's dry, his commentary, but not unkind; Gabranth is, after all, ever capable of setting himself to coarser communication when the mood strikes— or when goaded into it. She, on the other hand, makes for far more pleasant companionship.

Even if they are surrounded by what his own world would see as no more than predatory creatures.

A single step closer, his helmet nodding towards the creature she's taken to comforting.] Strange, to see that they lack fangs.

[truthtied]

No world is gentle to outsiders.

[ Even Themyscira, despite her ideals, could be harsh. The horse pricks his ears forward, giving the large armored person a considering side eye. Diana only smiles. ]

And these creatures are not the sort that need fangs, they eat grass mostly. You can come closer. Fredrick is a particularly calm horse.

[archademode]

It is not so where I am from. [the horse, he means— not the state of the world, but he reaches out all the same as he draws closer, careful to mimic the way she leans her palm against the creature and its broad-set features.

If Frederick is uncertain about the sight of Gabranth, the Judge Magister appears much the same in turn: he keeps his weight resting a little farther back across his heels during those first, few tentative movements.]

What once were fine companions in spoken of in legend now seek only to cause ruin and death.

[truthtied]

[ Fredrick flicks an ear and snorts, but he's a respectable horse whose seen too many large two legged armored figures to be very alarmed. Diana murmurs soft encouragement to the horse, though the look she gives Gabranth is a little troubled. ]

Poor beasts. Horses can be dangerous, but they're certainly not monsters. Was it magic or a god that changed them?

[archademode]

[What a gentleman, he is. Frederick, of course— Gabranth is far less tolerate of the exchange, despite all earnest effort on his own part.

It's difficult, after all, to forget a lifetime of knowledge that would vehemently testify to the opposite.]

Man. Magick. The two are ever intertwined in their iniquity.

War and all due destruction caused in its name forever decimated one of the last civilizations known for its use of warhorses in battle. The Mist that followed tainted what remained, and thus spread throughout all of Ivalice the threat of malice carried by their ilk.

It has been so long now, none remember what once was beyond rumors. Dated records.

[truthtied]

[ Her heart breaks a little, for this unknown war and the lives of strangers it costs. She gives Fredrick a few extra pats, just for being a very good horse, who has not been turned into a fanged beasts by the machinations of man or magic. ]

It sounds like the sort of war that would call to the gods. That sort of destruction... [ She shakes her head. ] I will consider myself truly blessed that I've never witnessed such destruction.

[archademode]

Not even amongst your own people?

[How strange, or— perhaps not, he supposes. If their numbers were few enough the odds of them turning teeth on one another like wolves would be less likely. But for a man that’s seen far too much of the rise and fall of kindness giving way to hatred, his imagination is shamefully limited.]

[truthtied]

[ There is a part of her always that wishes to curl around the history of Themyscira, protect it from the eyes of outsiders. It's a small part. ]

Not quite like what you've described, but. Once. Long before my birth, there was a battle that did cause a rift on our island that's still felt today. We are long lived and marks on one's heart do not heal quite as cleanly as marks on one's body.

[ One hand touches the sleek metal bracelet at her wrist. Changed by the trip through the Rift, it doesn't gleam quite as brightly, but it's still itself. Sorrow and pride all at once. ]

[archademode]

I understand.

[Perhaps not fully, in truth, watching her reach down to set careful contact across the glint of cool metal at her wrist— but something lingers there, so near to being tangible in the wake of her words, that he finds it almost familiar, in a sense.]

I was emburdened with life beyond what any man ought endure.

There are those who promise time acts as balm for deeper wounds, but for all those whose lives run on endlessly, no such peace exists in truth.

[The longer you draw breath, the longer you keep old scars alive, is that not the way of it?]

[truthtied]

Perhaps time is not the treatment we're led to believe it is. After all, a wound left in the dark can fester, even with all the time of existence to heal.

[ It's gently said, perhaps an offer if he wishes to see it as such. Which is perhaps ridiculous as they barely know each other, but. He seems to carry something heavier than his armor. And Diana can't imagine not offering assistance. ]

[archademode]

[It pulls something from him, just the faintest sound of approval. He knows she likely means to comfort him, and though he cannot bear the brush of kindness— it is its own matter to be so understood by someone else.]

Then I pray this world may yet prove to be salve to you as well.

[Fresh air, a second chance, whatever it is viewed to be, there is potential in it for them both.]