faderift | And in the sea that's painted black

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.

Edited 2021-04-28 16:03 (UTC)

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?"

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.

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?"

"I'm already partial to the title," is not exactly something necessary to say, and yet. The interjection stands, holding place while Nikolai takes the little stack, turns it in his hands to skim the rest of the titles, and then continues, "Yes, newly arrived. What gave me away?"

Likely nothing, other than being a new face among a small collection of people inhabiting an island fortress. Nikolai had spent the entirety of his first day in the place ruminating on the living conditions.

It's difficult to keep a secret in a palace, near impossible to do it for any length of time in this place, he'd assumed. Comparatively, he'd much rather the novelty of his appearance be chatted about than the other secret he'd been preparing to try and keep up his sleeve.

"It's good, I promise," says the elf, turning towards a small table off to the side with several chairs, so they don't have to stand in the way of others while they talk.

"I haven't seen you before," she points out, tilting her head a little bit as she looks up to him, "or heard your voice, and you said 'assuming you're not also a newly arrived visitor', which implies Rifter. Beyond that, you seem like a man who would have done some reading before and most everyone has heard of Genitivi who is native to at least this part of Thedas."

She thinks she would have noticed him before if she'd spotted him elsewhere in the Gallows; he has a unique bearing as well.

Conversation will come easier when they're seated, which is why Nikolai folds himself down into a chair at first opportunity. No need for Adrasteia to crane her neck to carry on discussion.

"Well-spotted," he tells her. Surely had he not been in the habit of wearing gloves, the shard of green in his palm would have given him away. "I arrived through a Rift, and no one seems to know a way of returning me to my home."

Spoken as if the word yet lurks at the end of the statement. It's a temporary problem. He'll make sure of it.

"Are you a librarian here, or have I interrupted your browsing with my requests?"

She takes the chair across from him, stacking her books off to the side so that they're not between them and in the way.

"Have you spoken with Madame de Foncé, formerly Poppell? Her first name is Wysteria and she's with the Research Division," Adrasteia gestures between them as she speaks, "and she has some theories about what keeps some people here and sends some of them, presumably, back from whence they came. I don't know if they'd be of any comfort to you," because quite honestly, in her mind, the idea that some dream version of herself is living a life in another world is frankly terrifying on several levels, "but it might be of some interest.

I don't think anyone has left and then returned here and found that time passed in their homeland without them during the in-between, but I am no expert on the subject, believe me."

She's just. Read a lot of reports on the subject. And talked to/had her ear talked off by Wysteria at various points.

At his question she shakes her head. "The latter but it's quite alright. Adrasteia, Grey Warden and Morale Officer, at your service."

Edited (words words w o r d s.) 2021-05-18 01:04 (UTC)

A name to remember: Wysteria de Foncé.

And this name: Adrasteia, toting two titles, one of which he has little context for.

"I intend to join the Research Division, so I will surely seek her out," he says, because his intention had always been to get a sense of the make up of this place and understand better the people working within it. Starting with those who hold some relevance to him makes sense, surely.

But, because it's only polite to introduce himself in kind—

"Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka," is said with some wry amusement. A title that carries no weight at all here, but that Nikolai cannot bring himself to leave aside. "You can imagine how grateful I am to hear of the possibility that no one might have noticed I've been gone when I return."

When. Not if.

"Oh, that'll be good then. She doesn't have a title within the division, I don't think," Adrasteia pauses, "and if she has please don't let on that I don't know what it is, but she is rather close to Provost Stark, who is in charge." Of Research, anyway; the man is strange, even for a Rifter, but she's not going to go around saying that to people who have just arrived.

At hearing Nikolai's title Adrasteia tilts her head in a little seated show of respect and deference; she's not getting all the way up to curtsey at the man, that just seems silly.

"I'm sure you're concerned about your people, your country." What ruler wouldn't be? "I wish I had more answers for you."

"It's my understanding no one has the answers."

Meant as a reassurance; he doesn't expect Adrasteia to unearth the solution to any one of his problems, or sate all his curiosity.

"But while I'm here, rather than dwell on what I can't change, I might as well set myself to solving some of what's gone wrong in this place."

Is it fortunate that he's displaced into a world seemingly just as broken as Ravka?

"I'm still getting a sense as to the full picture, but..."

A trailing shrug. It's a work in progress. He has every faith that problems will present themselves.

Adrasteia nods along. He's got a healthy viewpoint of the situation, as far as she can tell, so might as well be helpful instead of dwelling on the limitations.

"The full picture is rather complicated, as full pictures tend to be." What with history being both a living and an unraveling sort of process simultaneously. "Tell me what you've learned; perhaps I can fill in some of the gaps for you in the meantime?"

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.

Edited 2021-04-29 23:37 (UTC)

I like cheats.

[ To a point. ]

Do you know from experience, or from association?

[ 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.

And aren't we all in dire need of profit?

[ Maybe not dire. Maybe some part of that is habit, the lingering weight of Ravka's finances bearing down on him a universe away. ]

Considering your attention to rumors and gossip, do you know of a tailor capable of producing an order without stabbing me overmuch with needles or making a mess of the final product?

[ By takes a step back in mock-offense. ]

Ser! How dare you ask me that based on my love of gossip, rather than asking me that on the basis of my sartorial splendor! [ Then, not dropping the act so much as letting it sag a bit: ] I certainly do. How do your tastes run? Modest or attention-grabbing?

Please, take no offense. It's only a matter of presuming you'd prefer to keep your own stylings unique among society.

[ But to the question— ]

Though I promise I don't intend to outshine you. My tastes tend towards modest, military even. Do you know someone capable of it?

But of course.

[ He sets down the thing he was faintly considering buying, and tucks his hands into his pockets, and says - ]

What is it you do for a living, then? A soldier, mayhaps?

Edited (whoops) 2021-05-27 15:49 (UTC)

Not presently. I have, in fact, found myself more or less at loose ends.

[ Disorienting, to go from ruling a war ravaged nation to footling around places named The Gallows and Kirkwall. ]

But as a guest of Riftwatch, I intend to start making myself useful sooner rather than later. Once I'm adequately outfitted, of course.

A guest of Riftwatch.

[ That sparks renewed interest. ]

Are you a Rifter, then?

[ One hand flexes at his side. Compared to all the scarring and other unwelcome additions he's acquired, the shard feels almost—

Not benign. But easily dealt with. Even if it comes with this moniker and near-exile from his home. ]

Yes, I am. Do you ask out of curiosity, or because you're a part of the organization as well?

The two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive.

[ His manner is slightly teasing. Good-humored. ]

But yes, I'm one of those poor unfortunates who's hitched myself to that unruly machine. Byerly Rutyer.

And in the sea that's painted black | OTA

LATER, ota

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