There's a story in my veins, with scars on every page

[notathreat]

WHO: Ellie & OPEN
WHAT: Rifting in less-than-gracefully, a rogue explosion or two, & initial trouble accomplished
WHEN: Arrival and during the first week after.
WHERE: The Hinterlands, The Gallows
NOTES: So much swearing holy shit.

[Arrival.]

The worst part about lucid dreaming is when shit gets a little too real. Especially when it's not the usual kind of horrible. So when Ellie goes from another nightmare about things hunting her in an endless horrible sewer to being sucked into the water, hurtling down through the rain-soaked Seattle depths, she tries to tell herself that she can breathe underwater. She opens her mouth and tries, and the foul water fills her throat-

And she launches out, along with a gush of Seattle sewer water, hits a hillside and goes tumbling.

... and it's steep enough that she keeps going.

Ellie coughs, chokes, tries to scream, and unleashes a garbled stream of hacking, choking profanity.

Maybe you're the unlucky person on the trail she happens to literally bowl into (and possibly take out).

Or maybe you're the one who finds her screaming back into the face of a despair demon, soaked in foul-smelling sewer water, having just hurled a piece of rock shaped suspiciously like a revolver into its face.

She absolutely just called the demon a motherfucker.



[Gallows; Quarantine Times]

A bath, a few square meals and a bit of explanation later, Ellie seems far less... feral. She's dressed in local clothing, a tunic, pants and boots, and has stopped acting like a cat, roaming the stairways in the towers and popping up unexpectedly in places people didn't see her enter.

She shows up near the top of one of the towers, tucked into a window, looking down at the courtyard below.

"... so I heard there were actual griffons roosting up here. Is it true?"


[ooc; HMU if you want a custom starter!]

Comments

gallows.

[murderbaby]

Mhavos is an elf, barely more than five feet tall, with a self-serious expression on his face and several books under his arm. He stops when he is asked a question, nodding respectfully.

"Yes," he says, his accent nominally Orlesian, "I've heard they bite."

[notathreat]

Ellie's seen a few elves by now, and they still seem otherwordly to her, painfully beautiful with huge eyes. She's used to looking up at people, but even she has a few inches on him. She's seen him before; the library is one of her favorite places to poke around, though she hasn't managed to bring herself to say hello yet.

She prefers to haunt the racks, struggling with sounding out the new runic alphabet on the spines of books.

At his answer, she automatically reaches up to rub at her left hand -- her ring and pinky fingers there are little more than stumps, shorn off at some point.

"You've heard?" she asks, lifting a scarred eyebrow. "Or is it from experience?"

[murderbaby]

"I've heard," Mhavos says dryly. What he sees-- the missing fingers, and is that a hint of shyness or distaste?-- he studiously memorizes, while doing his best not to react at all. There's nothing to be gained in it.

"I prefer to avoid... animals." The last word said with the tilt of euphemism.

[notathreat]

Ellie carefully watches where his attention goes, watches the lack of reaction. Scars and missing fingers are far more common here, so it doesn't tell her much, but the way he answers makes her curious.

She lifts both eyebrows, the edge of her mouth catching, twisting. Could be a smile, could be a grimace. Guarded, but not unfriendly. She doesn't seem afraid of him, just uniformly wary, like someone used to being cornered.

"In general, or do some of them make the cut?"

[murderbaby]

She is a human with a dwarven accent. Mhavos guesses she is a rifter.

"Despite what you may have heard of my alleged kin and their interest in nature," Mhavos says, just as dry as before, "I have lived only in cities, and feral cats and rats to not make good representatives of the animal kingdom."

gallows; wildcard-ish?

[sparklequeen]

Glimmer has likewise been in the Gallows for a couple of days, mostly getting settled, trying her best to adjust to this whole thing--she's been scarce outside of meal times as she focuses on doing her reading on the local world and occasionally popping into the training yard. Finally, though, she feels steady enough to begin exploring her new residence and it's on one of these explorations that she finds something. Or someone. When the question is asked, her heart stops for a moment--a feeling of shock, relief, impossibility. She turns her head slightly--maybe Ellie didn't recognize her because her shockingly pink and lilac hair is no longer. It's now a light, auburn brown, undertoned with darker reds. There's a faint, shocked sound of surprise and then in a sparkling rush of light Glimmer teleports right into the window next to Ellie.

Her instinct is to hug and not let go--but she knows Ellie's instinct is to stab and ask questions later. She settles for a jittery, relieved, confused, excited yell.

"ELLIE!"

[notathreat]

The familiarity is there, but it's not enough to trip her into full recognition. This is a new world, everything is an overload of sensory input, and Ellie's still sorting out what's a threat and what isn't. She's slowly venturing into actual conversation, even if it's in a remote part of the towers and one on one.

The sparkles are new, as is the sudden ability to teleport.

Ellie's green eyes snap wide and alarmed as Glimmer appears in front of her, and touch or no touch, she goes right for her knife. In the next split second she sparks with recognition and aborts the sudden, deadly thrust of the blade, pulling her hand back with enough force to unbalance her completely on the ledge.

Alarm -- recognition -- then alarm again as Ellie's overbalances, overestimates her grip with her weakened left hand, and-

Falls from the tower window.

"Shit-!"

[sparklequeen]

Oh. Glimmer maybe got a little too ahead of herself on the teleporting thing. There's a sound of shock and dismay as Ellie unbalances herself--Glimmer hadn't expected quite so sharp a reaction-and then tumbles out the tower window. In an instant, not even thinking, just doing like she has so many times before, she teleports out after her. As Ellie is falling she suddenly has arms wrapped around her and Glimmer's voice in her ear over the rush of sea air.

"Hold on--!" She teleports again--she can't see into the window they just fall out of, unfortunately and even if her powers are back, she has to make do with new limitations. So instead there's a disconcerting lurch in reality that's probably not terribly pleasant or normal for someone who's never done the whole teleportation thing before with a thud the pair of them land on the stone of the courtyard below. Of course, falling from two feet is much better than, well. However high they were. Glimmer releases Ellie and rolls onto her back with a groan.

"Oh Gods I forgot how hard it is to catch someone in mid-air--" Then, as if remembering, she sits up and leans over Ellie.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry--! I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that, I know better--! Are you okay?!" All concern and guilt and fretting over her friend.

[notathreat]

It's all too much of a shock for her to react immediately. Ellie's fallen before but never from somewhere quite this high, and her immediate, fevered thought as she glimpses the various levels of rooftops and the courtyard below is that she's going to break her legs at best.

Something ignites inside of her, a burning and exhilarated feeling that flares out around her, rushes through her veins, calling every muscle in her body to life in a way she's felt only a handful of times, even if she's never seen her eyes burn gold.

But then Glimmer's voice is in her ear, her familiar arms are around her, holding on tight, and the world gives a hitch and a pop. They spill onto the cobbled stones of the courtyard, leaving her dazed and with her heart thumping, struggling to make sense of it.

Glimmer's face is above her, and Ellie doesn't think. She surges up, reaching for her, catching her in her arms to give her breathlessly tight hug.

(Sorry about that leftover Battle Spirit strength, Glim.)

gallows

[acreage]

There's a quality to his smile that's rueful, as much as it's genuine.

"I've never gone and checked," he admits, "but that's what I've heard."

He's never had reason to, really; but if he'd arrived in Thedas when he was her age, seeing griffons would've been a priority for him too.

[notathreat]

It's confirmation bias, perhaps, but Ellie feels more at ease around bearded guys who have a least a decade on her than she does around any other demographic.

She gives him a rueful glance right back, almost pained.

"You've really never gone and checked?"

By her tone, this is a serious problem.

[acreage]

"I know," he says, sounding somewhat genuinely abashed.

Look, he's been here long enough that he doesn't have an excuses. He's been busy; but so are they all, and when isn't he?

"Now's as good a time as any to find out."

[notathreat]

Ellie flashes a smile back -- friendly, but still feeling him out. The worlds she's been in have done wonders with getting her to try, but she can't entirely kick her wariness of strangers, being tense in unfamiliar surroundings.

Seeing how people deal with animals is a good starting place for gauging character.

"Easy enough to fix," she answers, and tilts her head, inviting him onward. She doesn't go in front of him, stays out of reach, but regards him curiously.

"You a Rifter?"

arrival.

[dinadhal]

After twenty-odd years spent alone, Aenor still finds time to ride out beyond Kirkwall by herself. Some of it is in hopes of getting to know her new dracolisk (Then'Harel, a recent replacement for poor Hellathen, sold some months ago on the way to Riftwatch) in the ways that truly matter; at some point, they'll go out together to complete work, and they'll need to be fully acquainted. Some of it, though, is the familiarity of solitude, comforting even now.

Why she's around is neither here nor there, however, when a rift cracks open nearly on top of her. Theni makes an awful keening noise, rearing back as something falls into him and nearly knocks Aenor out of her seat--but if it was so easy to unseat her, she would've died in a desert long ago. Her heels dig into her mount's sides, though once she's managed to rein him in again and get him a few paces away, she slides down from his back.

She's a tiny thing, dark-haired and arrayed in several layers of clothing--today in shades of crimson and mustard yellow, sand and dark brown--with swooping lines tattooed on her face. And as she nocks an arrow, aiming for the demon's hooded head, she shouts, "Your weapon, it is needed!"

[notathreat]

Fight-or-flight is instant, and Ellie's first instinct is to get out from under the hooves of a mount. Except it isn't... hooves. Not exactly. And holy shit that's definitely not a horse.

"Oh fuck," she hisses, scrambling up to her feet and back, when her mind manages to separate the tiny woman on the back of the demony-horse-dragon thing, and realize it's some kind of mount from the fucking- saddle she's somehow put on it-

Aenor's yell pulls her attention to what was somehow secondary to the rest of the batshit reality; the fact that they're being run up on by a literal fucking nightmare.

Ellie reaches automatically for her shotgun, finds that it's basically an actual rock, and instead fumbles for her bow, pulling out an arrow. It's one of her normal broadheads, but it's been enough for plenty of shit that's tried to kill her.

She takes aim for the thing's face, and fires -- and is surprised to have hit it despite the inhuman speed it's moving it. The thing jerks back as both of their arrows find their mark, but keeps coming, swiping at Aenor.

[dinadhal]

Aenor backs up, pulling a long-bladed dagger as the demon comes her way. They're not her favourite thing to fight...though frankly, what is? The juggling of bow and dagger, awareness of everything around her, stabbing out at the creature's withered hands--this is something that must be done, but not something she takes any joy from.

"The Rift--" calling again toward the girl, gesturing at the source of the green light without looking at it, "--close it!"

The last thing they need is another demon clawing its way out of the Fade. Keeping track of the poor girl--and Then'Harel, for that matter--is difficult enough with one to fight.

cw: anchor-based body horror

[notathreat]

Ellie takes aim at the creature going after the woman, but it's moving too fast for her to get a clear shot. She only barely catches the words, snaps her head to one side to look at what looks like a crystalline, glowing tear in the world. It twists and undulates, and as she watches, she can see things moving on the other side.

"How am I supposed to-"

The Rift gives a pulse, something that Ellie feels in the palm of her left hand. A horrible opening sensation, like something tearing, like a wound re-splitting, stitches popping before they're healed. It's sickening and painful, and the utter shock of it staggers her.

She stares down at the mark. At the glowing spot on her palm, looking for all the world like a match to the Rift in front of them.

Wrapping her hand around her bow, she fights through the feeling, pulls back and lets another arrow fly, taking the demon in the side of the neck. It staggers, giving her unlikely partner another opening.

"How do I do that?"

consider: a wildcard

[heorte]

Noose appears first, snuffling around the bottom of the stairwell before giving a little huff boff of sound directed towards the pair of descending footsteps and lightly whistled tune following after.

"Aye, aye," breaks the tune, voice softening as Ellis' attention falls to the dog before clocking someone unfamiliar, a newcomer. There's a moment of assessment, over in a split second before he nods. "Don't mind him. He's hoping we're heading to the one of the courtyards."

Implying there's a disappointment of some nature in Noose's future.

But there's still a beat of slightly awkward silence before he offers, not unkindly, "Newly arrived?"

yes!

[notathreat]

Ellie tenses, particularly at the sniffing noises. Though she's had good experiences with dogs, and plenty of them, she's also had unfortunate ones, especially when they belonged to strangers who didn't take well to outsiders.

She lets herself fade back into view, knowing that the dog will be able to find her even if she's invisible -- and takes heart in the fact that he seems friendly, with perked ears and a lolling tongue, his tail a relaxed plume.

Ellie tentatively goes to one knee, offering her fingertips for a sniff, though she tenses at the bark, drawing back. Dog's friendly, but that could change if the "owner" isn't.

The newness isn't hard to spot; Ellie holds herself with that constant wariness that comes from being surrounded by the untested, unsure of what's a threat and what's not.

"You can call it that," she says quietly, watching him with steady eyes. "... is he yours?"

[heorte]

"Noose belongs to himself," Ellis explains, voice dipping towards fond humor before Ellis seemingly collects himself, hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his coat. The fabric hangs loose, fastenings undone, and Ellis is careful not to obscure his hands in the process. Whether the wariness is due to Noose or to him, Ellis can take care in how he presents himself.

But in the interest of giving a proper answer, he continues, "He arrived one day and must have taken a liking to the place or to us. Even if he's out of sight for a few days, he crops up again. Most likely at meal times."

And, at the risk of overstepping, Ellis offers, "You don't need to worry about him. He's a good dog," in reassurance. He's Fereldan enough to spot someone uncertain about dogs, and at the least, he can vouch for the dog in question.

[notathreat]

Ellie watches his eyes more than his hands, but notices the movements, recognizes them as for her benefit. Both the Displaced and the people of Jackson had this down to a science; that implicit and understated way of comforting people they didn't know. Not a threat. I'm safe.

It tells her a lot about this place, and a little about him.

"Sounds more like a cat than a dog," Ellie says with a wry smile back, relaxing her shoulders, extending her fingertips to receive Noose's cold, friendly nose and a small lick at her palm. (Even Noose seems to realize she's nervous.)

"... okay," she concedes, her voice gentling, though it's hard to say whether she's talking to Noose or to Ellis. Given the green light, she rubs at his cheek, then finds the itchy place behind one ear.

"So why aren't you taking him to the courtyard?" she asks, lifting an eyebrow as she continues to scratch.

but also: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/09/a2/44/09a244e034a375051b8293e89f9cefe3.jpg

[tender]

No place in Kirkwall is immune to the thick, muggy humidity that's blanketed the city, but it's a little better on the ramparts. The air is wet and heavy around them, promising a storm, and Derrica's hair is curling up where it's escaped the hold of her braid. She'd had her shawl pulled up over hair initially, but it's fallen back over her shoulders in short order, drapes along her shoulders and pools by her elbows where she's leaned them on the stone.

"The ferry will take you to land just...there," she's saying, pointing out over the water towards the Kirkwall docks for Ellie's benefit. "We have business sometimes, guarding the warehouses or helping to load or unload goods if the city asks it of us, but sometimes we're petitioned for odder things."

Odder than closing rips in the sky. Derrica clearly regards that as somewhere within the baseline of normalcy.

"One time we were asked to find the Viscount's cousin's lost nug."

YES

[notathreat]

Even humid and muggy with the wind off the sea, it can't compare with New Amsterdam. Ellie can feel the storm in the air; it makes all her old injuries ache, pushing at something inside of her that has nothing to do with magic. Just those primal things that make little, vulnerable humans want to hide and wait out the fury.

Most everyone in the Gallows are helpful and Derrica's no exception. When she asked about eventually getting off this island, she seemed happy enough to show Ellie, all the better to help her parse it.

Thunder rolls around them, stuttering and breaking, but the storm is still far enough off. It seems surreal, looking at the city in the distance. But it's the first thing Ellie wants to explore.

"Lost nug?" she asks, reaching up to catch a few locks of her hair and pull it back from her eyes. It's almost long enough to tie back neatly, but not quite.

She knows what that means in her world, but something about the way Derrica says it makes her think it's, uh. Something different.

[tender]

The tone is enough of a prompt to divert Derrica from a description of the search to an explanation of the creature in question. She straightens slightly, weaves the braided tassel at the corner of her shawl between her fingers.

"They're..."

Derrica trails off, makes a little face trying to come up with a description.

"Hairless," she settles on, which seems the most important aspect. "They're harmless, and some people think they're sweet."

Jury's out on whether or not Derrica numbers among that camp.

"I heard in Orzammar they have nug races, but Kirkwall's nobility thinks they're too refined for that."

[notathreat]

It takes a second for the penny to drop, for Ellie to realize that it must be an animal of some kind. She wrinkles her nose, caught between laughing and curiosity, because anything that has Derrica making a face like that has to be beyond explanation.

"So, undignified, hairless, not a lot of teeth."

Ellie flashes her a half-smile. "Are they pets or something?"