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

[kantikoy]

There's a headshake at the Provost's... comment, for lack of a better word (Adrasteia does not particularly feel like Tony has asked her a real question) but it's Fenris' cold shoulder routine that has her frowning. Perhaps she should let it lie. Perhaps this is a question better asked within the Gallows' walls.

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).

[molineux]

She catches onto the subtle nuances better than anything spoken directly to her; what are words like Kirkwall and transdimensional rifts when silvers of tension are suddenly defining themselves far more tangibly in their midst? Margaery meekly glances from Tony to Fenris' back and quietly thanks Adrasteia as she accepts her help in mounting.

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.

[propulsion]

There's a certain point where your net worth entitles you to horse proficiency, just as a logical progression of being obscenely wealthy. Unfortunately, his ready billions didn't carry on through the rift with him, and so Tony vs horses is still a work in progress. He will be the last to mount up, moving around the area to pick up bits and pieces of equipment (copper-toned metal rods of some kind) that he throws into a satchel, which he in turn secures to his mount's saddle.

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.

[broodypants]

Fenris briskly ignores Adrasteia as though she has never spoken at all, and finds the palfrey he was given charge over for the duration of the mission. It is a docile creature, and he treats it with care, somehow managing to sit so none of the spikes of his armor jab it in the side.

"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.

[kantikoy]

"Oh goodness," Adrasteia murmurs quietly, before climbing up in front of Margaery (she's a good eight inches shorter than the other woman and actually knows where they're going), taking the reigns and letting out a little sigh. She is not going to needle Fenris, or at the very least not right now; if he's going to pretend she isn't there, she's just going to have to deal with it until she has an opportunity to speak to him alone about it. She pats Margaery's knee, offers her a canteen of water, and they're off, following after Fenris but not so fast as to leave Tony too far behind.

"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.

[molineux]

Shock has settled over her like a heavy weight, making Margaery feel almost tucked in and off-kilter simultaneously, somehow. She finds that she can't stand to look at Tony for more than a second when their eyes meet, suddenly with enough presence of mind to be self-conscious about the ways the wildfire might've seared something vulnerable into her gaze for anyone to see. The tension is a good distraction in that regard, and she's almost disappointed when it's apparently put on hold, not for the sake of simple entertainment, but an extension to the unwelcome thoughts that are already curling in on the edges of her sanity.

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.