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

[ please let me know if you'd like a customized starter! chignon or pm works c: ]

Comments

[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?"

[acreage]

"Don't worry, you'll have plenty of opportunities to see Kirkwall and the rest of Thedas soon."

Easily done, with business (or fun) to do in the city, missions beyond. She says that arriving with someone might've made things more confusing, and he can't help thinking —

Or it might've helped her to have a familiar face around, though he supposes that'd depend on the face. He knows he was lucky to arrive with Amos. He could've arrived alone or with, say, Murtry (which: fuck that guy).

"I am," he says, lifts a hand briefly so that his shard is visible. He's taken to wearing gloves more often than not, especially when he isn't in the Gallows, but the weather's making that difficult these days.

[molineux]

Right. The shard. She no longer cringes at the sight of such a distinct green; it helps a lot to know the rift wasn't making things personal when it cursed her with the exact same color of wildfire to carry for the rest of her life.

But her curiosity is another matter entirely - "How long has it been since you arrived? Do you like it here?" - getting ahead of her manners easily before she subdues it properly with a rueful smile.

"My apologies. I haven't had very many chances to meet another rifter alone, and it's always so intimidating to approach a group to ask them all questions. There's also something about speaking in a library that immediately lends itself to great fun - perhaps because of all the times I was scolded for it as a child."

[acreage]

The truth is: it was a long time before he got used to the idea of the anchor embedded in his hand. He's had recurring nightmares since Eros of blue crystal cobwebbing across his skin, glowing like the lyrium hidden at his shoulder.

"You don't have anything to apologize for. I can answer anything you want to know — or try to, at least." Or tell her who best to ask. He might not be as new as she is anymore, but most rifters he knows has been here much longer than he has. "More than half a year," is the answer to her first question, and, "It grows on you," for the second. Which isn't exactly an answer, but may be something.

After a beat, he adds, "You spend a lot of time in libraries as a kid?"

It's still a funny thought, even more than half a year removed from the Earth he knew.

[molineux]

A part of her knows that the finality of her situation hasn't fully sunken in yet. It's a knowledge she can see within the confines of her own mind, encased in glass that she can see through so easily, but never reach out and touch. She wonders how long it took for his new reality to sink in, and what dream it was that brought him here.

"I had lots of tutoring," she says, with the look of someone who remembers the pain of having to sit still as if it were yesterday. "And although I never purposely misbehaved, the temptation has never left."

It occurs to her then, that Jim might actually have a real purpose for being in the library (not everyone is prone to wandering for the hell of it) and is far too polite to let her know that she's single-handedly preventing him from achieving it. "Is there a book you're looking for? Or perhaps you're in pursuit of an escape and I'm so very helpfully in the way?"

[acreage]

Which tracks, really; she has a look that reminds him of people like Petrana, or the locals who live out of Hightown.

"A book," he says, amused. "I'm trying to figure out if I can borrow it here, or if I just need to buy it in town."

Flint did, after all, give him a number of recommendations recently.

"I've found them a pretty decent way to learn more about Thedas."

[molineux]

"If you have any recommendations, I'd love to know as well," she speaks earnestly, manners tossed aside for curiosity. "I've been doing my best to read up as much as I can while I'm stuck here, but I feel as though I may be working backwards."

As in, reading a volume that looks deceptively reader-friendly and realizing that she's inadvertently missing half of the meaning in the poetry because she hasn't formed any meanings to the mentions of cities or regions.

A pause as she looks at Jim, before - "Your world. Did it have some sort of hierarchy or caste system?"

[acreage]

"That, I can help you with." Since his room is starting to resemble a small library, he adds, "And I can lend you books, too. It just depends on where you want to start."

A flash of memory: being newly arrived, marveling at the luxury of a bookstore, and John Silver suggesting, Orlais might be a good place to start. Or if you're curious about our enemies, Tevinter.

He frowns slightly at her question, though, weighs it in his mind briefly.

"Why do you ask?"

[molineux]

"Perhaps ones on the Chantry, if you have any," she decides with a thoughtful nod, more to herself. "I've found that understanding the relationship religion holds with different groups of people could be incredibly beneficial in grasping the culture overall."

At his inquiry though, Margaery's expression offers something more apologetic. "I hope I haven't offended you. Your demeanor, the way you stand, even, feels as though it may be from a world that's not as tightly wound in hierarchy as mine."

It's not really an important detail in the grand scheme of things, but it she can't help but notice it - perhaps because it's such a grounding reminder of their differences.

"It's..." she searches for the right word, the right phrase. The closest one is - "quite refreshing."

[acreage]

"You're in luck," he says, "I just finished reading one of those. I'll get it to you next time I see you."

He hadn't had much interest in the Chantry, in contrast to Margaery, until very recently. So much cleverer her to consider the significance of Theodosian belief system to attitudes right off the bat.

At the suggestion of offense, he shakes his head; a quiet don't worry about it. Wryly,

"The word you're looking for might be impertinent."

He's heard it before, he can admit this about himself.

[molineux]

"Very much appreciated, Jim. If there's anything I can also help you with, please do let me know?"

(It's their first meeting, so she won't regale him with the story about how religious fanatics directly led to the circumstances of her near-death. That feels more like a 100th meeting type of topic.)

"I don't see impertinence as a bad trait," she says with amusement, mostly because his wry acceptance tells her that he's used to hearing it in a more negative connotation. "I happen to think it's a form of kindness that you always let people know where you stand."

A kindness, to be sure, as it most definitely would've been a weakness back home.

"Are you the type of person who'd also appreciate being given the exact same honesty in turn?"