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

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[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?

[novokribirsk]

"Zoya."

If it is bad form, she clearly isn't put off. If anything, her eyes flash at the almost-joke — because isn't it familiar? In Fjerda, witch trials and the Ice Court. In Shu Han, surgeons with their knives. In Ketterdam, slavery. In the Wandering Isle, blood for remedies. Grisha captives and jurda parem, in who knows how many places?

Our, Derrica said. It doesn't go unnoticed.

[tender]

"You're new," isn't a question. There's simply no possibility Derrica had failed to notice this woman in the course of two years service in Riftwatch.

Welcome is never really the right word to offer a rifter. So instead—

"You can use some of my hair oils, if you like. I've more than enough."

[novokribirsk]

"You'd share with a stranger?"

— is not a no, nor a denial of being new. She cants her head, blue eyes bright as they watch the other woman.

[tender]

A shrug, water rippling out from the movement of her shoulders.

"We aren't going to be strangers very long," Derrica answers. "Not if you're going to be working with us and living here."

And it's not a hardship, to share what she has. Especially not when this person is clearly newly arrived, and settling into the Gallows. Maybe it's never a kindness repaid, but maybe it eases the transition. That's worth giving away a bottle of oil, to Derrica.