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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: ]
library.
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
A shrug of the shoulders around the book pinned to his side. Libraries have always been a welcome diversion for Nikolai, the best place to save off boredom. It's too early to do much else than proceed with his goal of acquiring a lifetime's worth of knowledge as speedily as possible.
"My name is Nikolai. And allow me my apologies, for disrupting your browsing by planting myself so completely in your path."
no subject
"No need for apologies-" she echoes once she's gained more control, perhaps a little worse for wear, as raucous laughter is ill-advised when it comes to bruised ribs; there may be a tear or two in her eyes as she straightens up to compose herself once more. But it's been so long since she's had a reason to laugh that the pain is easily secondary to the joyous mood boost.
"But thank you, for recognizing the error of your ways. I hope you've learned your lesson, ser Nikolai? Otherwise, I might actually have to watch where my feet take me, and that would be most unfortunate."
no subject
She's sweet. Nikolai notes this of her, and as far as first impressions go, it's a fairly good one.
It helps too, that these are good circumstances to meet under. Even stranded and perhaps lost, anytime he meets someone outside of a ballroom or feast is preferable. (Maybe it helps also that he is king of nothing in Thedas, and no one will pin expectation upon something as simple as making Margaery laugh.)
"But I'll endeavor for a smoother collision in the future. Is that reassuring?"
no subject
The event of their meeting only keeps deepening in humor as she registers the strain in her neck from having to tilt her head up to him - to imagine him endeavoring for a smoother collision with her reminds her of giant bloodhounds and how they might skirt around a particularly aggressive kitten.
"And while you adjust, I'll be sure to keep a watchful eye out for you. Your height will undoubtedly make it a bit difficult to see you but I'm sure I can manage."
There's something pleasant that seeps into her as she speaks, and Margaery realizes it's relief. The kind that settles in bone-deep and lingers within the edges of identity - she hasn't completely lost her socializing abilities after all. Or her sense of propriety.
"Shall I leave you to your reading then? I doubt you had thoughts of making conversation when you made your way here."
slaps bow onto this thread
There is much about this place that seems it will not wait for him to find his footing.
"Yes, I'm afraid you must," Nikolai says, with a rueful smile. "Though I can assure you that you're hardly rid of me. I'll endeavor to put myself in your path sooner rather than later."
The Gallows is not such an impossibly large structure, after all. With a small bow, Nikolai takes his leave and melts back into the shelves.