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open | i just can't drop this feeling underneath my feet
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.
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: ]
no subject
Feeling assured that her magical bubble will hold, Adrasteia is nearly directly underneath the rift when it shuts, protecting her eyes from the eerie green light with her left palm turned outward. Once it's shut, she shakes her fingers as if they've fallen asleep, and then uses her right hand and her teeth to pull a glove on over the newly minted small green shard in her palm. Mission accomplished, in more ways than one.
"Everyone intact?" She sends a wry smile to the back of Fenris' head. "When you say it like that it sounds like we're the ones about to put her in harm's way." Which is semi-accurate but still. Could be worded better.
"Welcome to Thedas, dear," is directed at Margaery. "Sorry about the demons."
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The ache in her hand pulsates, drawing her attention to it once more. It takes her a moment or two to respond, but the bewilderment on her expression is already speaking volumes. Her eyes wander from the faint wry smile on the woman's face, to the impassive face crowned by shocking white hair. And the last one, the one who melded the sky shut. Her eyes focus on his gauntlet, and then drop with a shuddering sigh, shoulders curving in with the effort.
"Thedas? Am I... am I not in the seven hells?"
no subject
He's watching the Warden, mainly, expression somewhat inscrutable all of a sudden, before his focus snaps back to Margaery around when hers wanders to him. At her question, he says, raised voice cutting through like a clap of authority, "Why, you fall from heaven?"
And steps on over to join them, boots crunching through forest floor. Without the rift hovering in the air and casting shades of queasy green around, or throwing fits of lightning, or scorching the earth into liquid black, the forest setting is nearly normal. Maybe even in a minute, bird song will start filtering back in.
"You've been transported from your world into this one," he says, words coming quick but precise, accent probably strange and broad to Margaery's ear. "It's a little more complicated than that, definitely not as easy as an afterlife, but I can see how the demons would make that confusing. I'm Tony."
A look up and down of her clocks her as another renfaire, which is less exciting for him personally, but he'll take the win in predicting her arrival.
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"Fenris," he adds, for himself, "have you need of further aid, I will provide it."
Yes, yes, he'll carry the princess.
no subject
"What's your name?"
no subject
Tony, she repeats to herself, sealing his name with the memory of his face illuminated by green, the echo of his laughter. Fenris is next, with his brusque speaking manner and gigantic sword, white hair, fading lines and - now that she's looking at him clearly, pointed ears. She pulls her eyes away from them just in time to meet Adrasteia's eyes at her introduction. The warmest of them all, down to her gestures.
Alive. Margaery's not sure what to feel, although it's obvious to her that there's a heavy knot of something sitting on her chest that's going to have to be unraveled later. She's suddenly aware of the presence of tears in her eyes and quickly wipes them away before offering a smile.
"I'm Margaery," The forest is so quiet now in comparison, she takes another nervous glance around. "Are we safe now?"
no subject
"Yeah," he says. "Nothing here's gonna try to hurt you, anyway."
Nothing still standing. Around them, pieces of demon are melting into viscous puddles, cleaved in places by giant swords, roasted by lightning. The air still smells a little electrified. "We're taking you back with us. We're maybe a day out from the city of Kirkwall, homebase for Riftwatch, an organisation that seals up transdimensional rifts, kills the demons that come out of them, rescues the people that do too, like you. And me." He lifts his hand, lets the green shard there sparkle.
He tips a look back at Adrasteia. "You can share a saddle with our new friend, here. Unless you wanna stop off somewhere, do the other hand too," is a nod to her newly acquired shard. If there's annoyance, even anger, it's not present in his voice, but there is something a little tense in his expression.
no subject
When he hands horse reins over to Adrasteia, he reverts to his cold manner, turning from her without a word.
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Perhaps, and yet. "Have I done something to upset you?"
She holds the horse still by the reins and gives Margaery a hand up if she needs it (the horse is very large and of the Avvar, so she's not put out at the idea of sharing a ride).
no subject
Everything else feels like it can wait now that she feels safe enough to trust them - and perhaps getting out of the way would be best. It takes a few attempts, with her legs still feeling as weak as they are, and an ache at her side that flares with pain at every attempt. But she keeps her winces to as much of a minimum as she can, for as sharp as the pain gets, she's had enough of this cursed forest.
Fortunately, she's no stranger to riding and it shows with the way Margaery settles once she's on the horse's back, looking more comfortable than she has during their encounter.
And probably a little too much like an attentive audience to what's unfolding.
no subject
Tony chases a glance after that little exchange as he does so, but only that. He will climb up onto the ubiquitous chestnut creature he's ridden out for the day.
Snags another look on Margaery, like he's flipping through the possible things he might say to put her at ease, but pulls up short. His mouth compresses into a line that isn't quite a smile, watching her watch her surroundings, her plain unease, but she doesn't look like she's about to snap. So that'll have to do.
no subject
"Back to Kirkwall," he says, and notes Margaery's looks, her gentle features, her wide eyes. "The smell of the city is only somewhat indicative of its character."
And he rides on.
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"Tell me about where you're from?" She offers quietly to the woman behind her so that all the silence doesn't feel uncomfortable. Then again, maybe that's just Adrasteia projecting.
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Once the initial wave of adrenaline has passed, it feels as though it's taken her energy along with it, leaving her internal defenses completely shot. There's a bare flicker of a smile mustered at Fenris' kind warning, and a grateful whisper of a thank you after she's taken a generous sip from the canteen, but tears are pooling in her eyes even before Adrasteia's question gently splits the silence.
Margaery tries to breathe as quietly as possible, hopes that Adrasteia can't feel the minute tremors in her body as she fights not to think about her family. She glances behind quickly, as if to try and gauge how close Tony is and how easily he might be able to witness her struggles. But no matter how much she tries to speak, there is no answer waiting to be said. Instead -
"I can't," quietly confessed through telltale wobbles in tone. "Will you tell me why you wanted-?" Her hand comes up to indicate the shard in her hand.