open | i just can't drop this feeling underneath my feet

[molineux]

WHO: Margaery Tyrell & open!
WHAT: Another rifter's arrival, jittery in a library, & getting lost in Hightown.
WHEN: Arrival, quarantine, and the first week after her quarantine is over.
WHERE: The Brecilian Forest, Gallows, Hightown.
NOTES:N/A.

I. ARRIVAL.

The impossible heat of the wildfire isn't what Margaery feels last. No, it's the heavy dread that's worked itself into her veins, overtaking the inches of her hands and feet, emphasizing the rapid beating of her heart that pounds in her eardrums as she sees a glimpse of the future - her grandmother, alone, with nothing but the ashes of their family name trailing her like a cloud. Between that and the fierce, helpless anger that follows, Margaery can barely register anything else but the rumble of their doom, hands tight around Loras' arms before -

Bright green. The color explodes in her vision and it's the last thing her mind processes before she's suddenly falling, a sensation rudely interrupted by the sound of disturbed leaves, snapped branches, and rocks and dirt sent tumbling down uneven slopes. Shock settles into the corners of her senses, somewhat dulling the pain of her scrapes and bruises, although nothing seems to detract from the ache of her hand, the same green glowing up at her like a cursed brand through the paper she clutches. Above her, the sky ...glimmers? Seemingly ripped apart with the same garish hue.

She's always been quick on her feet, but this time, it's the terrifying sound of a inhumane screech that gets her to snap out of her daze, to push the pressing questions out of her mind and stumble to her feet. Distantly, she thinks she can hear the sounds of other voices, probably far closer than she can tell, but terror has her back in its grip and it's all she can do to back away from the fear demons closing in on her -

Seven hells.

II. LIBRARY

She's not exactly alone, but the thought of being limited to where she might go makes Margaery far more restless than she should be. She wakes early every morning, and wonders if it's simply her lifelong habits too stubbornly ingrained in her body, or fear of the unknown lurking in the back of her mind at all times. A probable mix of both, she muses, as she finds her feet taking her to the main library this morning.

The early hour allows her to slink through the aisles without garnering much attention, if at all. It's eerily quiet, almost oppressive in a way that Margaery has grown to appreciate these past few weeks - tangible silences that she can feel bearing down on her existence feel so grounding. Mostly because her own mind is never quiet these days, stretched apart from death and despair and grief, and the deceptively simple pain of homesickness that winds around her heart like a vine. Emptiness follows, too, for a home no longer present.

But she puts too much faith in what she hears, made evident in the next moment as she goes from turning a corner without watching where she's going, and ends up walking right into a solid source of warmth that is most evidently not a shelf. A good thing, perhaps, as the collision still makes her wince where her bruised ribs emanate their disapproval.

"Forgive me," she gasps, instinctively in a whisper. "I'm so terribly sorry. Are you alright?"

III. HIGHTOWN

The sky darkens above her as Margaery fights the urge to bite her lip - determined not to show any signs of uncertainty - and keeps following the path she's on. To others, her footsteps appear to be sure, undoubtedly hurried from the important appointment she must get to.

In reality, she is terribly lost.

Although the thought of stopping and asking a kindly-looking stranger crosses her mind, the last thing she wants to do is alert anyone in this strange place that she's alone, without anyone who'd inquire after her absence too seriously. No, she'll find her way on her own - even if that hope is faltering in her heart as she recognizes the same row of stalls she's passed an eternity ago. She's going in circles.

The crystal weighs around her neck, heavier and heavier as her exhaustion begins to make way for hunger. Her pride, the traitorous thing, is shrinking as she thinks she notices some men eyeing her with interest. She's done her best not to utilize the crystal so far, preferring to keep to herself instead of reaching out as she should.

Margaery takes a deep breath and shuts away her ego into a neat little box.

"I fear I may be lost in Hightown. Would anyone be able to help me?"

IV. WILDCARD

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iii. hightown.

[ipseite]

The voice that comes over the crystal sounds almost what by this time Margaery may have identified as Orlesian, though not quite — it is a woman's voice, pleasant and well modulated.

“I am in Hightown, presently, mademoiselle. I have a few errands yet to run, but if you would identify for me what you see nearest you I will collect you.”

If she sounds more resigned than warm, it is not unfriendly.

[molineux]

Margaery's stomach tugs at another low rumble and she takes a deep breath, letting composure straighten her back and tilt her head back up as she walks. Her determination to keep moving is rewarded when she spots a landmark that could certainly serve as a better mark than these endless grand, white buildings.

"There is a beautiful large tree, fenced in," After a moment of hesitation, "I'm so terribly sorry to inconvenience you-" My lady, at the tip of her tongue but never spoken. And she knows that her ending was abrupt, her tonality indicative of more left to say, but she keeps it, letting the silence stretch to speak for her.

[ipseite]

Until quite recently, Hightown was the only part of Kirkwall that Petrana frequented; to the denizens of this finest and most privileged part of the city, she is a familiar face. A known quantity. Madame de Cedoux is not upon first glance a terribly intimidating woman — as she approaches Margaery, in pale blue velvet with hat and gloves to match, she is delicate and fair, half a foot shorter and a good deal blonder, wearing no jewels but a jet locket at her throat.

But she sweeps past the lingering young men with an amiable, “To find you out! Do remember me to your mother, Master Urqhart,” and if there might be a sullen cast to one or two faces they return her pleasantries as they slope off, losing interest in entertainment that may have a higher cost than they care to pay after all.

She takes Margaery in with a glance, and a sigh, and says, “Mlle Tyrell,” dredging the name up from the recently arrived, “while I commend you on your desire to acclimate, Hightown is a great long distance from the Gallows and you very new to both Thedas and to Kirkwall. I must ask that you not return here without escort until you are better prepared.”

It is a sternly maternal demeanor she has, for all that at a glance they do not look so very far apart in age.

“I cannot insist. I am not a figure of authority over you. But there may not always be an agent to hand who can spare you a harsher lesson than mine.”

[molineux]

The day has been long, and Margaery finds herself quietly yearning for familiar comforts - sweet cakes from home, fresh fruit plucked off the trees of her home, a long hot bath filled with oils and fragrances to keep her skin soft and supple - but the sight of her rescuer, a petite beauty in blue, chasing off the loitering crowd makes her bite back a genuine smile. She's reminded of big dogs slinking off with their tails between their legs in shame, properly chastised by a kitten.

And so it becomes her turn, although she bears it with far more gratitude, as there is kindness still, underlying the formal delivery of this sound advice. "You are not wrong to say so." She does not feel the need to explain herself, as the outcome has already been determined, but what she can do, is offer a small smile with, "I promise I will be mindful of my wanderings next time, and secure an escort or a suitable method to find my way back."

Her smile grows, until it's interrupted by the growling of her stomach, rude and impatient now that it's been waiting to dine for hours - a life of food constantly within reach is not quite the easiest foundation when it comes to acclimating to Riftwatch, as it turns out. Margaery looks appropriately rueful, placing a hand over it as if to silence it somehow. "My apologies. The market stalls were so terribly fascinating, I kept putting off coming back.

i. arrival.

[propulsion]

A sound cuts through the demonic screeching that, much like demonic screeching, is unlike anything Margaery may have heard before. The modern day equivalent is the crack of electricity as more strange green light enters the scene in the form of a thick arc of green lightning. It slams into the demon looming closest to her, instantly forking away to snap the second. It's probably extremely good luck that Margaery herself is not caught.

There's a laugh. Kind of a cackle. The source is a man, a stranger, dressed in armor—dark leather, silver—with a gauntlet currently charged with that same green light at the centre of its palm, sparking crackles of electricity leaping around it.

One of the demons spins around to the source of that laughter, its spider limbs twitching from the onslaught, sliding on over with a scream. Tony, for his part, wheels backwards, gauntlet aimed, seeming to draw the monster away from the lady, and glancing up towards the rift splitting the sky.

"We're closing her up!" he yells, ostensibly to more of those voices Margaery can hear through the trees.

[broodypants]

So, this is... strange. But he had wanted to see it. Fair enough; he deserves whatever he gets out of this. An innocent looking human woman, and demons.

Well, he knows how to deal with one of those things.

Fenris is an elf, dressed in black armor meant to be imposing, but not concealing-- gaps of black leather and metal reveal strange rivulets of bright white weaving over his skin. Most importantly, though, he carries a sword nearly as long as him, and he swings it with confidence and skill. A demon has a chunk missing from it. Then another.

"Hurry up, then!" He's speaking to Tony. The woman from the rift remains in his sympathies for at least the next five minutes.

[kantikoy]

Adrasteia would agree, it's strange. The poor Rifter woman looks terrified and if it weren't for the demons she'd be rushing in to try and check her for injuries but. Well.

There are demons. And an open tear in the Fade, which Adrasteia has no qualms about being nearby to, apparently. She sweeps out with her hand and lightning strikes several demons at once; another gesture and the woman trying to hide from them is engulfed in a protective magical bubble that will take damage before any of it reaches her.

Another set of lightning bolts from the sky and she has enough power to bring out her own big sword. Not as big as Fenris', mind, but a spirit blade is big enough compared to the size of the elven mage. Time to swipe more chunks out of demons.

It hasn't occurred to her that Fenris didn't know she was a mage until exactly this point in time.

[molineux]

Later, on their way back to safety, Margaery will cautiously observe Tony Stark from where she follows and determine that no, he's not also a demon. In this moment though, with his command of green lightning and that careless laughter in the face of obvious danger, adrenaline makes it impossible for her not to believe that she's somehow witnessing a battle between two monsters to lay claim on her soul.

His companions don't help the notion either, not when Margaery's only ever seen the Mountain wield a sword near the size the warrior-demon carries, and the female- incredible sorcery, efficient and brutal, and not just in striking the fear demons down. Any hope for Margaery to run and hide somewhere else is shattered by the bubble she's encapsulated in: gentle, but too unexpectedly strange to seem protective at the moment.

So she watches, keeping herself huddled on the floor and out of the way, instinctively flinching when there's a demon limb or two that spins towards her direction. But her initial wave of fear fades slow as she's not in immediate jeopardy, so pain re-introduces itself to her everywhere else - first with the superficial scrapes and cuts on her skin, all the way to the tender ache in her side that throbs as she attempts to stand to her feet.

If she's going to be a new plaything for these demons of whatever circle of hell she's in, she'll at least face them on her feet, trying to look as menacing as she can while she's covered in dirt and leaves.

ii. library.

[acreage]

He'd briefly, instinctively, reached out to her shoulder to steady her, but drops his hand once it's clear she won't fall.

"I'm fine," he says quickly, not so hushed as she is, then, "are you okay?"

The gaze he casts over her is two-fold: both to look for injury (especially in the wake that wince), and to place her as an unfamiliar face. New, maybe; he's sure he hasn't seen her before.

[molineux]

"I'm fine," comes easily, immediately. There's a genuine smile to back up her claims though, as her neck makes the tilt to look up at this stranger who's expressed his kindness already in more ways than one.

"I didn't realize anyone else would be here at this hour and felt no need to watch where I was going." she says by way of explanation, noting his gaze.

"I'm- Margaery," It's still strange, to have to introduce herself, to realize how much she took for granted when she would roam anywhere and expect to be recognized. But there's freedom, too. Choice. The lack of expectation for what she will accomplish. "I just rift- I rifted?" Her brows furrow in search of a more graceful phrase, before she gives up in the next two seconds. "I arrived just about two weeks ago."

[acreage]

"Jim," he offers in return, and while he doesn't laugh at her momentary fumble, there is a bloom of amusement across his expression. Not unkind, though, and certainly not mocking.

"So you're about ready to be let out of the Gallows," he says, nodding briefly. There have been a surprising number of new rifters lately. Months without, sometimes, and now, what, five in the last several weeks? Something to think about. "Did you arrive alone, or with anyone you know?"

[molineux]

Jim. If there's anything Margaery's learned during her short time here, it's that there's an incredible variety in names across worlds - almost tricky to memorize for their simplicity. Different behaviors as well; simply based on his demeanor, she can hardly guess what his station might be.

"That's putting it mildly," she agrees amiably, although he may notice there's a strain in her smile as she continues. "Alone, unfortunately. Although now I wonder if it's a good thing. Arriving with someone else might've just enhanced the confusion. You're- also a rifter, aren't you?"

library.

[rezni]

"Not a scratch," Nikolai promises. "Though I don't know that I can say that same for Gentivi."

Between them, a thick hardbound copy is propped at an odd angle on the floor. Nikolai's hand releases Margaery's elbow after a minor, comforting squeeze. He straightens, swipes a palm down his tunic, before stepping back to bend and reclaim the dropped volume.

"We can call it all forgiven if you'll swear the pages were creased before I ever lifted it from the shelf."

Not that Nikolai has the sense Riftwatch's library is so attentively cared for. His brief sightings of the Archivist haven't left much impression, and there's been some—

Oddities, maybe, is the word. But Nikolai is also gathering that Riftwatch is near nothing but oddities, so it shouldn't be so unexpected.

[molineux]

Her initial smile is small but mighty in its relief, and easily transitions into an agreeable laugh. "Something tells me Gentivi would be more grateful that his volumes are being read enough for creased pages. But perhaps I'm presuming too much."

She requests for a closer look at the tome he's just picked up ("May I?") and hefts it in her hands; it's considerably lighter than the holy books she'd devoured in her last days, and if she remembers correctly, far more entertaining and self-aware in its tone and message.

"Are you also someone who believes in the goodness of humanity, ser?" she asks, gently rubbing out the more obvious folds in a few pages before closing it to ensure proper recovery. The thought of religion sticks in her thoughts even more painfully than the dull ache of her hand, her ribs; at least this branch of conversation will feel safer.

[rezni]

"That's a weighty question for a first meeting," Nikolai counters, watching the motion of her hands tending to the damaged pages. "But I suppose so, yes."

There is no real alternative. Yes, people must be good. They are difficult and prone to squabbling and acting against their best interests, but—

But dismissing the possibility of goodness is to put a foot on a path Nikolai knows he doesn't care to tread.

"But with the caveat that I don't think it comes naturally. It's something humanity must work at, if you follow my meaning."

[molineux]

"I do. I don't find it a coincidence that most good things don't come naturally to humanity, but I suppose it keeps us from being too terribly bored." She closes the book carefully and offers it back to him with both hands and a friendly smile.

"I'm Margaery. Apologies for the weighty question, but I didn't expect anyone else to be in here so early in the day, with such a scholarly work, no less."

She knows she must come off as a rifter: a new face barely finding her way around the Gallows, dressed in the plain clothes from Riftwatch, but she doesn't offer any opening in that direction. Shielding questions about home in the past few weeks has given her the inclination to clip the topic before it can even surface.

iii.

[justashotaway]

Laura's spent much of the last year becoming acquainted with the city: with the Guard on patrol, exploring on her own, and--as of late--doing what she can to defend those who need assistance. There are too many people who lurk in shadows waiting to do harm. She can, at least, do so with the intent to do something good.

This afternoon starts as exploration, wandering through the scents and sights of Hightown's markets. (The stalls selling spices are her favourites, though there are a few with trinkets made of metal and glass that fascinate her equally. The fact that they have no apparent use is part of their appeal.) From the corner of one eye, she notices another girl among the crowds, one of the new people in the Gallows. And then, later, she notices her again. And perhaps once more, recognizing the scent of her twisting up with all the smells in the air.

When she hears the other girl, it's no longer an exploratory mission. The objective has shifted from consider spending coin on something to assist someone who cannot help herself.

"I can help you," she says, her words tinged with a slight accent, as she approaches. It doesn't occur to her to make her own crystal visible as she approaches or mention that she, too, belongs to Riftwatch. She recognizes the other girl, her age or a few years older, and is used to being recognized herself. Bright green eyes in a serious face framed by black hair and black clothes, someone who skulks and lurks as frequently as anything else--Laura might be a familiar face from the Gallows, or she might not be. "Where are you going?"

[molineux]

Helpless is not a feeling Margaery Tyrell appreciates. And while freedom is appreciated, being anchored to a lack of knowledge that forces her to walk on baseless confidence is somehow equally frustrating as being trapped in a fortress for quarantine.

Her fingers curl around her crystal as she exhales, soft and slow, already resolving to figure out where she may be able to purchase a map of the city to study. She doesn't know how long she needs to expect to wait for a response, but it's definitely not in the form of someone standing before her, as if summoned.

She's seen this girl before. Her recognition, and the level of cleanliness to her black clothes, makes Margaery cautiously optimistic in answering. "I just want to go back to the Gallows, my lady." After a tentative smile, "You're a part of Riftwatch too, aren't you?"

She won't mention how she recognizes Laura, because mentioning having seen her claws during some of the meal times doesn't feel quite like a great conversation starter. "My name is Margaery. Would it be alright if I asked for yours?"

III-adjacent

[wearyallalone]

After a short pause, her crystal brings a reply, a masculine voice with an accent not native to Kirkwall: "Has someone fetched you yet, or are you still in need of assistance?" For all it's a bit formal, the voice is warm enough it doesn't feel like the owner is particularly hoping to be told he's not needed.

[molineux]

It's still strange, to hear a voice emanating from a crystal clear as day, but at least Margaery knows that her distress call worked.

"I'm unfortunately still in need of assistance, good ser," she says, apologetic even as this man somehow makes himself sound terribly trustworthy by the quality of his voice alone. Ironically, it's what makes her hurriedly add, "But I'm sure I could make do with some directions so you don't have to come fetch me? I wouldn't want to burden you when I know you must have better things to do."

[wearyallalone]

"Don't let it trouble you; I'm nearby, and I was only preparing to head back to the Gallows. Can you see any businesses or places that have names nearby?" A landmark is probably going to be his best bet for finding her, as Kirkwall is far from a grid and directions are necessarily three-dimensional when allowing for the stairs.

[molineux]

There's a pause before she replies, and it's very obvious why when Margaery answers.

"The... Blooming Rose." she says, with just enough embarrassment to let her rescuer know exactly where she's stumbled upon.

In her defense, Margaery had been drawn to the name for the homesickness it conjured up in her, and was immediately amused to realize exactly what sort of establishment it was. It's not so funny now though, as she winces at what a great first impression she must make - lost and coincidentally in front of a brothel.

ii

[sparklequeen]

The library has been a refuge for Glimmer as she tries to adjust. It lets her delve into information and history and all sorts of details about this new place she's found herself in without having to worry about shoving her foot into her mouth or making a fool of herself as she already has.

So when she cannot sleep, she finds herself there, thumbing through books by candlelight and trying her best not to feel too terribly homesick. It doesn't work, but it does distract from the homesickness and the feelings of grief and regret and worry that threaten to overtake her if she sits in them for too long. She's got a book tucked under one arm and is heading down the rows of books when an unexpected arrival occurs and she collides neatly with Margaery. She yelps and stumbles back, her eyes wide--

Oh. Another Rifer. She holds her free hand up to try and ward off the apology.

"I'm fine. I should have been looking where I was going--" She smiles. "Ah... are you alright?"

[molineux]

Margaery's seen this person around - her hair color makes it impossible for her to miss - which means she's able to bypass her awe and go right for a smile. It gradually gets more natural as her pain subsides.

"I'm fine, truly. Just startled, that's all." Her hand immediately falls from where she's instinctively placed it over her injury to reinforce what she's saying. Nothing to see here. "It's not every early morning that I expect to see such a bright presence here in the library."

Her eyes fall to the book in her hands, then, and Margaery offers her another smile before stepping aside to allow her a path to go through if she wishes to. Sometimes, when she has her mind set on a task, the last thing she wants is to be stopped by a stranger and have a conversation. It's only polite to offer a quick out. "Ah, please don't let me keep you from your reading?"

[sparklequeen]

"I'm just trying to find some things to keep myself busy with--no reading yet," Glimmer confesses with a smile. She reaches down to pat the books in her arms.

"I figure if I'm going to be stuck here, learning about it can't be the worst thing, right?" She laughs, though Glimmer does her best to keep it quiet considering they're well, in a library of all places. She steps past Margaery, giving the other the option of continuing on as well.

"Couldn't really stay in bed. And being busy is better than not," she says. Then she gives a slight bow, as if remembering that she has manners and should introduce herself. It feels distressingly normal, even if she still doesn't know quite how to feel about being stuck here.

"I'm Glimmer--er, Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon but it's on the other side of a Rift, so it's not like it matters that much..." She feels like she's been saying that a lot lately.