And in the sea that's painted black | OTA

[novokribirsk]

WHO: Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov, and yOU
WHAT: Two new rifters arrive, shenanigans ensue.
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: N/A

Comments

ARRIVAL, closed to bickering ravkans

[novokribirsk]

It's not too cold to be wearing this ridiculous dress, the weather overcast and warm, and much too humid. She's reminded of Ketterdam more than Ravka, and that's another reason to hate this situation. Falling out of a so-called rift, fighting off so-called demons, yes, yes — but the humidity making her dress stick to her skin, bringing out the curl to her hair, that she has to brush off her face?

Vile.

(Almost as vile as this smelly cart taking them back to a place promisingly called the Gallows.)

The presence of her king sitting next to her is only another complication, and another set of problems, enough to give her a headache. Almost as bad as —

"If your Saintsforsaken eels touch me one more time, I will throw them and you into a ditch."

[rezni]

"Zoya," is two-toned, equal parts teasing and scolding as Nikolai flashes a smile to the front of the cart, eyes cutting away from her and back. In light, easy Ravkan, he continues, "It's an accident, you know that. My trunk isn't large enough for the pair of them."

Nevermind that the contents of the trunk are gone. Two trunks should have been a boon, but instead:

Seawater. Eels.

Nothing of use.

"Nevermind the eels," he instructs. "We need to consider what we are going to do about this. Unless you know of how to reverse what just happened?"

[novokribirsk]

Her eyes flash in silent warning: don't patronize me, Your Highness.

Aloud, in Ravkan, she answers, "Yes, I habitually rip holes in the fabric of the universe. How foolish of me to forget."

[rezni]

"Not you, but David, perhaps. In his spare time."

Ha. Ha.

He flicks a finger in the water, an affronted eel squirming away from the disturbance. It's outrageously interesting, but their two nervous guides have no answers and Nikolai isn't certain where they'd going will provide any either.

Lapsing out of Ravkan, he calls to the pair of them, "How much longer, if you please?"

As if he's so eager to arrive at the Gallows. The only positive he can think of is that such a place must be equipped to hold him overnight, though that's going to be complicated as well.

"Not long," is a mumbled, nonspecific reply, but it's perhaps all he's going to get. Nikolai turns back to her, eyebrows raising, and relays in Ravkan, "You see? Not long. Then we will have some answers."

[novokribirsk]

"The only thing David would do with power like that is use the new world as a place to store his books."

She manages to sound more fond than cutting, makes up for it by frowning and making no similar concessions to speak anything but Ravkan; she only needs Nikolai to understand her right now. A toss of her hair before she goes on serves to accidentally bring the eye to how close she is to bursting out of this bodice.

"And what are you planning to do when we reach the den of vipers? Charm them to death?"

LATER, ota

[novokribirsk]

i

There is a woman of medium height in the training grounds, all long dark waves of hair and striking features, a tell-tale green glimmer set in one her palms. She eschews the weaponry, instead stands in front of a series of training dummies with a faint frown on her face.

She knows, of course, that she can summon. It had been necessary to deal with the demons that greeted them at their arrival, and she is a Grisha whether she's in Ravka, or Novyi Zem, or Thedas. But doubt has gnawed at her heart. What is it to draw on the making at the heart of the world in another world? What is it to use the Small Science in a place where otkazat’sya still tremble and call it magic, where every name she's come to know herself by is meaningless?

It doesn't matter, she reminds herself. In Thedas or Ravka or hell, she is Zoya Nazyalensky, commander of the Second Army, general to her king. And he is here, which means she owes it to her country to keep him — the both of them — safe until she can return him to his throne.

Then she tosses her hair over a shoulder and lifts her arms, silver cuff glittering on one wrist. She gestures, and gusts of wind strike the dummies, one after another, knocking the head off the last.

ii

The baths are something, at least, and even familiar — at least a little bit. They aren't as beautiful as the banya nestled by the Little Palace, nor as luxurious as the baths at the Geldrenner Hotel, but as Zoya eases into the hot water, even she doesn't have much cause to complain. The gleaming, obsidian mass of her hair is piled high on her head, and a dressing gown has been shucked without concern for modesty. The observant may notice a surprising set of jagged scars that stretch across the otherwise smooth skin of her back, eight matching claw marks, puckered and old.

"At least," she observes, without concern for who may hear her, "there's one decent thing in these Gallows."

iii

After her quarantine, Zoya wastes no time to make a series of trips into Kirkwall. She heads into Hightown with her chin held high, wears her Gallows-borrowed clothes with all the dignity of any finery. It's eventually obvious what she's come for — she leaves a tailor one day with a package, a glimpse of blue silk, or maybe silver embroidery, visible through the wrapping. It's easy enough to notice her carrying it on the ferry, or as she makes her way back towards her quarters.

ii

[bouchonne]

"Several decent things, madame," replies a rather arch, droll voice from her right. Standing there is a man who is currently clothed, but minimally, only in a dressing-gown - clearly he's come to take a bath.

But he lingers, not disrobing yet; instead, he places a hand over his heart, and executes a very elegant and graceful bow.

"May I join you? I have no desire to begin our acquaintanceship by giving offense to you or your modesty."

[novokribirsk]

He gets points for the nicety, truthfully, the lack of leering — something that doesn't show in her face but might've if he had offended. Instead she briefly considers the question, an upwards tilt to her chin, and says briskly,

"I've seen it all before."

Past lovers, close quarters in encampments, during the war — she's never had need for modesty.

[bouchonne]

"Oh, I don't know," he says. "Maybe the people of this world have bright orange feet, or jewels embedded in our belly-buttons, or odd little tentacles. Perhaps there are things to discover here."

The comment is wry, playful, but not flirtatious. For one, flirting with someone who's already naked and who would have trouble extricating themselves from your company is phenomenally rude, and therefore only to be done to the deserving, like Captain Flint, whom Byerly has fond memories of tormenting. Second, the woman is quite young, for all that there's confidence in her bearing. And third, he's a married man with two paramours, which makes him a bit less flirting-prone than he had been at one time.

He shucks off his gown and eases himself into the water. And, with a little sigh - "Ah, yes, that feels good on my vestigial tail."

i

[exequy]

It's the head snapping loose that makes Kostos stop walking through the colonnade along one side of the courtyard. It's the woman's face that turns that stop into something more than a pause. He steps level with the stone columns, into the sunlight, so as not to be lurking creepily in the shadows—though he might have been noticeable either way. He's dark and dark-clad, still and a quiet walker, but there's a spot of bright white-blue light drifting near him. It wanders close and far with a mind of its own.

The polite thing to say is hello.

What he says is, "Are you a rifter?"

[novokribirsk]

Good thing neither of them are concerned with politeness.

She notices his approach, as he moves closer, and what might have been a snapped out answer is — tempered. Her eyes catch on the dancing spot of brightness, linger; Sun Summoning is not such a rare sight as it had been, but she hadn't expected to find anything like it here.

"That's what I've been called," she says, sour.

[exequy]

Her voice makes the light change its trajectory and zip toward her, while Kostos nods and gestures toward the dummies.

"We would need staves," he says, "to—don't bother her."

That last part is directed to the spirit wisp, which arrests mid-air a few feet away from her. It's making a quiet shimmering brrr noise, and the noise changes pitch into something almost disappointed. Its brightness dims, too.

Kostos waits a moment to make sure it's going to obey before he continues, "To do something like that, at that distance."

i

[inkindled]

Halfway across the yard, Matthias bursts into very genuine applause.

He'd been training on his own earlier in the day, as has been his custom this whole time he's been with Riftwatch. And--as has been his custom--he'd brought second lunch with him, scoured from the kitchens for the purpose of replenishing his spent energy. And because he's nearly always hungry. Today it's two pork pies, enjoyed on the sunny side of the crumbling half wall that boarders the east side of the yard. Supposedly there'd once been a building here, and the wall is the last bit of it that remains. All Matthias knows is that it's a perfect place to press his back to and absorb some of the warmth of the sun while he eats.

He had gotten his hands on three pork pied, but he'd already decimated one when he'd heard the gust of wind and had twisted around to peek over the wall to see who was in the yard. And his eyes had rounded to about the size of saucers and his bite of pie had fallen out of his mouth.

Normally he'd be intimidated. He is, really, very intimidated. But he's also madly impressed, and loves a good display of magic, which has led to the applause. By now Matthias has hoisted himself up to sit on the wall. His staff is laying on the wall beside him--plain, thick, functional. The pie and a half-a-pie-with-bites-in make for funny accent pieces beside it.

"That was well brilliant," he says warmly, thick Free Marcher in his accent. "I've not seen anything like it before. Not that I've seen it all by any means, mind, but I know what I've not seen for certain, 'specially when it comes to magic."

[novokribirsk]

Let it be said: Zoya does not perform for applause. She's a summoner, not a circus act.

Let it also be said: Zoya doesn't not appreciate being, you know, appreciated.

She decides to take the compliment. — Especially because it's followed up immediately by a verbal one as soon as she looks his way, sees boy and staff and pies alike. His accent is unfamiliar but not difficult to parse, though she'd never be able to imitate it like a local. (That's a skill that belongs to Nina.)

"You're in luck," she says, approaches so she can better make herself heard without having to call across the yard. "Not everyone's first look at the Small Science comes from a member of the Triumvirate."

An impressive thing, apparently, from her tone.

[inkindled]

"Oh, aye? What are they," and he manages to hold back the too-familiar when they're at home. He doesn't know this woman just yet, certainly not enough to be cheeky.

Dusting pie crumbs off of his hands, Matthias jumps down off of the half wall so he's at least standing as she approaches. That seems the proper respectful thing to do, especially for someone titled and all. Surely that's what Triumvirate means--a title, a way of calling someone of importance.

And he is impressed. His self consciousness will catch up with him before long. It's the magic that has let him side-step that phase. He'll be back in it in no time at all. For the moment, Matthias wrinkles his nose.

"I feel in luck. And what's a small science, while we're at it? Rifter thing, I reckon?"

ii

[tender]

"Only in this tower," Derrica answers, from where she's sunk neck-deep in the water. As she speaks, she straightens, turns to observe the new arrival.

New in every sense of the word, she realizes. She doesn't recognize this woman, and—

Well. She's not forgettable.

"The one meant for mages is still not working properly, so anyone living there comes to these baths."

Or takes advantage of everyone's aversion to cold water to have the baths all to themselves. But really, privacy, at what cost?

[novokribirsk]

"Mages," and the word sounds strange on her tongue, foreign, more than any other word in this language, "don't have rights to hot water, either? Barbaric."

Her tone is scornful, but simmering — she's at least been in the Gallows long enough to know that living arrangements in either tower has nothing to do with power.

[tender]

The water ripples as Derrica straightens, shifting from languorous slouch to something resembling attention.

Maybe it's a joke Zoya's making, but it's the kind of joke that might be true depending on the Circle. Derrica thinks of Tantervale and Matthias' voice filled with venom and shakes her head.

"The Chantry believes cold water helps stave off our worst tendencies," is also an almost joke. If they polled Chantry sisters, how many would agree?

"I'm Derrica," signals a small shift towards more neutral conversation. Is it bad form to slander the Chantry on a first meeting?

LATER, ota

[rezni]

i.

Here is the thing:

Nikolai is already crushingly bored.

What does one do after spending a significant chunk of their life bent upon one goal, and then being abruptly separated from it?

Apparently, if you're Nikolai Lantsov, the answer is "go out in search of a new problem to apply oneself to."

Being presently limited to the Gallows means his first stop is the library. It's ostensibly the most straightforward way to answer a few questions, but Nikolai approaches it with the bright enthusiasm of someone preparing to win a debate. (Which, he might be. It seems inevitable.)

"Pardon me," comes in a stage whisper. "I'm looking for the histories, if you please."

ii.

But of course, the Gallows cannot contain him forever, and inevitably, upon the end of quarantine, he strikes out for Kirkwall.

This is fully a fact-finding mission, meant to get a sense of the lay of the land and ideally to gossip with people outside of the Gallows. Maybe it's not the most accurate way to get information from the front, but it is interesting to hear the impressions of those in the neighboring city.

Almost anywhere in Kirkwall is fair game to run into Nikolai over the next few weeks. Do you spot him admiring the architecture in Hightown? Or maybe you catch a glimpse of him engaged in conversation with several merchants in Lowtown. Or perhaps you find him on the docks, admiring the ships in port? He's more or less determined to map out the city on foot, so whatever your business, it's safe to say you'll catch of a glimpse of him in the process of it.

And, of course, if push comes to shove, he can always be cornered on the ferry.

iii.

Wildcard.

i.

[kantikoy]

Adrasteia is here donating books. Romances, apparently, by the look of them, and borrowing in return several books on alchemy and its process. She has the latter in her arms when she hears Nikolai's question, turns, and looks up at him.

Why are humans so damnably tall?

"Histories of Thedas, of the Free Marches, or something else?"

[rezni]

Romances.

The alchemy is interesting, but the romances prompt a slight raise of eyebrows and widening of smile before Nikolai considers the request.

"The former, I think, is the place to start. But maybe you could advise me on that as well, assuming you're not also a newly arrived visitor to this fair land?"

He can almost hear Zoya's scoff.

[kantikoy]

Everyone has their guilty or not so guilty pleasures, as it may be. Adrasteia's are terribly written and hilariously executed romances. Some of these? Aren't worth the space they take up in the library's shelves, but if they amuse at least one person, well. She thinks it'll be worth it.

The librarians might not agree with her, however.

She doesn't understand the reason for the widening of his smile and a little furrow appears between her brows before she tells herself to relax. He's a Rifter, clearly, and she can have some grace in this interaction.

Not every human who smiles at an elf is doing it to poke fun after all.

"I'm no scholar, and the books would likely give you a better general idea of our history, but I would be happy to help as I can." The romance books get shelved; the alchemy books stacked on a table nearby before she returns to the stacks. She finds several books by Genitivi and holds them out to the man.

"I'd start with In Pursuit of Knowledge, personally. Have you just arrived?"

ii.

[bouchonne]

They're cheats.

[ When the merchants step away to confer amongst themselves, a man browsing the wares at a neighboring stall - lanky, lean and louche - sees fit to pipe up. He shoots Nikolai a droll little smile, and amends - ]

If you weren't already aware of that fact.

[rezni]

I like cheats.

[ To a point. ]

Do you know from experience, or from association?

[bouchonne]

[ That makes Byerly laugh, and turn a little more fully towards the tall fellow. Before, By had just been doing a stranger a good turn; now, he's actually rather interested in the stranger himself. ]

I keep my ears open to rumors. Purely because I adore idle and catty gossip, mind, but every once in a while a fellow can profit by his hobbies.