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𝐌argaery 𝐓yrell ([personal profile] molineux) wrote in [community profile] faderift2021-05-16 06:53 pm

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.




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! [plurk.com profile] chignon or pm works c: ]

wearyallalone: (I know you're sleeping by now)

III-adjacent

[personal profile] wearyallalone 2021-05-22 12:03 am (UTC)(link)
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.
wearyallalone: (We don't owe you anything)

[personal profile] wearyallalone 2021-05-24 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"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.
wearyallalone: (Portents in the sky)

[personal profile] wearyallalone 2021-05-25 01:16 am (UTC)(link)
He seems to take it in stride, or at least is intent on sparing her dignity. "As long as you aren't uncomfortable lingering nearby, I can meet you there soon. If you need to stay talking to me in the meantime, you're welcome, though I apologize in advance if I get a bit breathy on the stairs."

(He probably won't; he's in excellent shape. Still, he hasn't yet tried to have a conversation while climbing them.)

"I'm really not very far, though."
wearyallalone: (I'm still up walking around)

[personal profile] wearyallalone 2021-05-28 10:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"Do not let it worry you," he said, his breathing not (yet, at least) betraying the effort of stairs. "That is very kind, all the same, but I had finished my business for the day. I'd just lingered in considering whether to have supper in town or back at the Gallows, that's all. It feels odder to eat alone here, I think, but also it is good to have some variety now and then."
wearyallalone: (Last of the true believers)

[personal profile] wearyallalone 2021-06-24 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
"I do not know if I'd say favorite, but I've established that one or two are consistently reliable if I'm going to eat in Kirkwall proper. It's usually a matter of expediency, which place I'm closer to at a meal time, but today I might have gone either way." He pauses, though whether to think or to climb stairs isn't clear. After a moment, he adds, "Though now that I am coming to fetch you, perhaps we can eat together, and solve the problem for tonight. Unless you are eager to get back to the Gallows, of course."