faderift | Out of the frying pan... [ Open

WHO: Glimmer, anyone else.
WHAT: Glimmer arrives in Thedas via Rift, then gets settled in the Gallows
WHEN: A week or two during Cloudreach
WHERE: Location
NOTES: N/A

i. Falling, falling, falling

Glimmer had gone to sleep in New Amsterdam, awkwardly curled on a too small mattress, doing her best not to make unappreciated skin contact with the girl she shared with. And as usual when far from home, she had been dreaming--dreaming of home. Of her friends. Of her war. When she dreams this time, it is of the endless corridors of the vessel she had been imprisoned on--a common nightmare for her. In this one, she runs through endless, identical corridors, pursued by identical monsters, each of them wearing the face of the warlord imprisoning her. She fights them, but no matter how many she blasts down with her staff or fights free of, there are always more. Endless, endless, and endless. She cannot escape. She will never escape. Until she stumbles through a doorway and into emptiness. She is tumbling down, down, down--

Her eyes shoot open and she flails. She is falling, really falling and she has a staff in her hand--she doesn't know where this is or what's happening. Too green to be New Amsterdam and yet not the familiar land of home. She flails, twists herself, and by instinct tries to teleport herself down to safety--

And finds that she can. Appears in a burst of sparkling light. There's a laugh. A bark of stressed, unsure mirth at being able to teleport once again.

"What?" It's the only thing she can think to say as she stumbles and leans against her staff. It neatly sums up her experience in the last few months.

[ There are probably some shades of the clones chasing her through her dream around to be slain, and they'll go poof pretty easy. Maybe some Fade daemons? Go wild! Please PM me if you've got other questions or ideas. ]

ii. Landing on your feet

The Gallows seems an appropriate name for the place when Glimmer first sets eyes on the imposing edifice that seems to rise out of the water of Kirkwall's harbor. Thankfully, once she sets foot on the island, she finds it much less of a miserable place than she had thought. It feels more familiar than the artificiality and sterility of New Amsterdam (at least before it had been overrun by plants) but has a feeling of oppressiveness and closed-off isolation compared to the open, airy corridors and breezeways of Bright Moon. Still... she can deal with this, right? Having gotten her bearings, she settles in for what is sure to be an interesting time.

There are days of education. She can be found learning about this new world, about what brought her here. In the training yard, sweating as she swings a practice staff against targets and works on her teleportation 'muscles' once again. Appearing and disappearing in bursts of light, firing off blasts of her photokinesis to knock down targets until she collapses from the exertion, panting and weak. It helps her work off the frustration of being far from home once again and though she's friendly enough when approached, there's something moody and closed off about the young woman from time to time.

Perhaps she's found at meal times, tired and practically dozing in her soup after a hard training sessions or with her eyes fixed on a book about Thedas as she tries to absorb whatever she can. Regardless, there's a new face to be seen at the Gallows and she could probably use someone friendly to help her feel welcome.

Or maybe you just want to needle the new kid. Either way.

[ Go wild! Open to to other stuff as well. If there's nothing here that strikes your fancy, hit me up on Discord or Plurk and we can plot something else out. ♥ ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, it's just nice to be able to something after feeling cooped up for so long before I, uh. Got here?" Glimmer replies, then laughs. She's doing her best to stay positive. Yeah, this isn't home but maybe it's a step closer to figuring out how to get there, eventually. She can feel the other woman's eyes on her circlet and she gives a little smile at the introduction.

"I'm very new. Just fell out of a hole in the sky the other day, to be honest. And my name is Glimmer! Though if we have to be all formal, it's Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon."

Oh, is the sound Tiffany makes, quiet and surprised--first because this is a Rifter (but of course it is, the magic had looked different, a style unfamiliar), and second because of the title.

"We don't have to be formal, as long as you're comfortable with informality. I am, if you are. It's very nice to meet you, Glimmer, even if I'm sorry about the circumstances of our meeting."

"Honestly, when people talk about the queen of Bright Moon, I still sometimes feel like they're talking about my mom," Glimmer admits with a laugh.

"And... well. We're pretty far from Etheria and from Bright Moon, so it's not like the title means much to any of you." A pause, perhaps a little awkward.

"Does it? I mean--I'm new to Thedas. It's why I'm doing so much reading on everything..."

Tiffany shakes her head. "Not a thing. Well, the queen bit does--we do have queens. And moons that are very often bright, but the way you say it makes it sound a place, which makes a difference. What is it like?"

While she's here, and they're conversing, she might as well have a seat. The clink of chain mail has a kind of musicality to it as she adjusts herself to sit as comfortably as she can.

Oh. Sitting. They can do that. Glimmer sits down to sit with a clink of her own armor. She's not used to it--only rarely wore it back home--and it feels strange on her. She's not sure she likes it.

"Bright Moon is my kingdom, back on Etheria--my planet," Glimmer starts to explain. "It's... beautiful. Purple mountains. CLear lakes and rivers. The castle glitters any time the sun hits it. It has beautiful forests. Friendly people. I... I don't know how else to describe it but beautiful."

Tiffany has to twist a little to get her broadsword into a place that doesn't make her feel like a scarecrow on a pole. She manages it as graceful as anyone could manage such a thing, with minimal face-pulling.

It helps to have Glimmer's account of her home as a distraction. She smiles as she stretches her legs out. "It sounds wonderful. I come from a place in Ferelden that sounds like it might be much the same, the Ruswold. Except the glittering castle. That sounds like something out of a wonderful story. Ruling a friendly people must be a rewarding job."

Glimmer is lucky in that all she has to do is lay her staff (which is lacquered and stained a pretty array of purples and lilacs, with an ornate jeweled head) across her lap. She smiles at TIffany's words and leans forward, chin nestling into her hand.

"It's a beautiful place. And it would be more rewarding if it weren't for the war..." The war that consumed her whole childhood in one way or another. The war that seems to grow worse and worse the longer she's away, not knowing what's happened.

"Which is... It's a long story and we don't need to get into all the grim stuff. I just wish I was back home right now."

War. That's certainly sobering. Tiffany looks down at her boots. They're worn but well-made, the sort that can be worn day in, day out, taken to a cobbler for repair for years without seeing retirement. She's worn them in battles and in trainings, marches and patrols and homecomings.

"I'm sorry your home has known war." Simple, straightforward, genuinely meant. She digs her heels against the thin soil of the yard, making little crescent-shaped impressions. "Sometimes it seems overwhelming, thinking that everyone has lived during some war or another. Not just in Thedas, but--everywhere. It makes peace feel like some far-fetched ideal."

"I know peace is possible. I just... can't remember ever seeing it," Glimmer says quietly.

"Before I was born, I know there wasn't a war. I just want things to be peaceful for my people again. I want things to be peaceful for me and my friends. Sometimes that just seems really far away. Maybe we can't ever reach it? I have to try, though." She uses the butt-end of her staff to scratch at the dirt, moving it in idle circles through the dust. The clothes she wears aren't hers, exactly. They've been given to her--new-made or handed down to her. They still need some alteration and the sleeves on her shirt are rolled up to make sure they don't fall over her hands.

"Even if it's far-fetched, I have to try."

Out of the frying pan... [ Open | Arrival ]

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