i'll face my fears even if it damn kills me

[armd]

WHO: Abby & OPEN
WHAT: Coming through the rift. Making a real splash
WHEN: Both arrival and within the first week of her quarantine
WHERE: Kirkwall (specifically The Waking Sea); The Gallows
NOTES: Swear words galore, mentions of past injuries

arrival.

Tonight Abby's lucid enough to realise she's in her usual nightmare but not enough to stop it from happening, which is both depressing and boring. The hallway is endless even though she knows that it isn't, and she walks down it with her gun in her hands and her heart in her throat. The alarm is so loud she can barely think over the top of it.

The door at the end doesn't reveal a body on the floor. Abby, familiar with the routine, screams like she's seen one anyway even as she takes a step through and falls forward, out into empty, white space. She's still processing the shift when she hits the churning waves of The Waking Sea with an extra yelp, spun around underneath the tide until she barely knows which way is up.

If you're down at the shore you've got the absolute privilege of seeing her dredge up from the water like a drowned rat, shivering and bewildered.

She hasn't even noticed the rage demon looming up behind her as she staggers up onto shore. Still trying to get her bearings. Still half-convinced she's dreaming.

quarantine; week one.

The Gallows are like something out of a book she's read, Gothic and strange and thrilling. The buildings inside of it draw her eye; the Smithy, in particular, where Abby can be found watching curiously as workers hammer out hot metal and shape it into tools, and weapons. She's feeling the uselessness of her 'gun' but she's kept it anyway, perhaps out of habit, strapped to the side of her leg. It's just to feel something, okay, any measure of normalcy in a world where she's found herself kept in a fortress and wearing some kind of loose, cloth shirt and plain trousers held together by drawstring rather than zipper, so. Don't point it out.

The apothecary reminds her of The Once and Future King, comfortably smoky, sweet-smelling, and filled to the fucking brim with little bottles of... stuff, and things. Abby's most intrigued by the potions, though ultimately belligerent with the shop owner when she finds out she can't just. Y'know, have it.

Yeah yeah she's heard about the 'economy'. She doesn't have enough coin for the bottle she's interested in, but that shouldn't matter because-

"I'm supposed to be going out and fighting for you, but you're not going to give me any first aid? What the fuck do I do if something cuts me down out there? Slap a leaf on it?"

Comments

[armd]

Abby, automatically reaching over the top of her to lend an extra hand in pulling the door open, hums in agreement.

"Yeah. Think you're right."

It's the one flaw, with her plan (take Owen's boat, track down the Fireflies); Lev hates the ocean. He's scared of it, and Abby feels very aware of that even though the idea is essentially on pause now that she's here instead. Still, she's kinda talking to a wealth of information here. Seems silly not to ask.

After a beat, she adds, "I'm– back home, I mean, I was actually about to take a boat out on a longer trip. Got any tips for sea sickness?"

[tender]

"Ginger, or mint," Derrica says immediately, expression warming. "There's a tea you can make. I'll show you, while you're here."

It's always pleasant to be asked a question she has such a complete answer to.

The door thuds closed behind them. Derrica stands for a minute, looking in the vast space critically. The Gallows was not made to be inviting. Even though it houses Riftwatch now instead of templars and the mages they'd harmed, the place is still foreboding, in it's way.

Or maybe that is just Derrica's view, knowing too much of what occurred in the Gallows and in Kirkwall to divorce it from the structure entirely.

"Once you're finished with your quarantine and you're able to go into Kirkwall, you can practice on the ferry. Is it bad with short journeys, or only long ones?"

[armd]

"Thanks," Abby says, surprised by pleased by her swift answer, "Appreciate it."

The Gallows are so much bigger than anywhere she's ever lived before. It makes sense. Thedas exists without the constant threat of infected, meaning they don't have to hunker down and fortify small areas, arm everybody to the teeth just in case. They can afford to spread out. Abby likes the freedom, the space to explore. There's a lot for her to see, and she isn't even allowed out yet.

"I dunno yet," she admits, kneading her fingers slowly in where her neck curves to her shoulder, "I'm just assuming it's going to happen. And the person I'm travelling with is scared of open water, so we've got that to get through as well."

[tender]

Almost immediately, Derrica thinks of Matthias.

The look she gives to Abby is sympathetic, though her immediate reply is interrupted by the arrival of Noose, trotting up to butt his head against her knee. As she bends to scratch behind his ears, Derrica shakes her head a little.

"That's harder than the sea sickness, I think," she admits. "Can they swim?"

If not, learning might be a help. But this is all feeling her way through a dark room. Derrica had always known to swim. She had never feared the sea. She understands the idea of it, but it's harder to think of a remedy for such a thing.

[armd]

This is a very welcome interruption. Abby breaks out in a rare grin as the dog appears, offering both her hands to be smelt before she crouches before him to drag her fingers through his black and orange ruff.

"Hey old timer..." He's got that content, old-man look about him, the way he watches her steadily while they both pay him attention like he's only soaking in what's owed him. Cute. His tail does a thump or two when Abby finds the right spot to itch.

"Yeah," she replies eventually, not letting up on Noose for a moment, "He can swim. And he was the one who suggested taking the boat in the first place, so– we'll get through it one day at a time, I guess." Her voice is still warm from addressing the dog, but it's clear that fondness carries over to whomever she's speaking about.

[tender]

With Abby providing the requisite pets, Derrica straightens. She's smiling as she crosses her arms, half for Abby's handling of Noose. Watching Noose bodily nudge his way into against Abby's body, she considers what Abby is actually telling her.

There's someone waiting for Abby, back wherever she came from. And Abby talks about him much the same way Derrica imagines she sounds talking about Matthias.

"When you see him again, tell him that it's vast but it's beautiful. And that once he figures out how to sail, he'll be able to go anywhere he wants."

Sailing is freedom. Everything else she can think of to recommend the sea comes after that simple fact.

[armd]

For a moment Abby's silent save for clucking her tongue at the dog nudged up happily against her, paying the fur behind his ears careful consideration. When you see him again. That hurts. Tugs on her heart. What if she's here for a really long time, and she can't see him for months? Years?

"... He'd really like that," she manages, turning her head away from Derrica ever so slightly to keep the upset look on her face from her. She'll be fine, but her poker face needs a lot of work. That's all. It helps that the dog noses at, and solemnly licks the heel of her hand. "I'll be sure to tell him."

Freedom. That's all Yara ever wanted, too. To be far away. "Kinda wish he was here too though," she says off-handedly, like she hasn't been thinking it the moment she realised she was here without him. "He'd love it here. All this Riftwatch stuff is right up his alley."

[tender]

Even turned away, Derrica understands some of what she's sparked in Abby. There is some immediate urge to apologize, staved off only by the sense that it would be further prying into something painful.

"Which part?" Derrica asks instead, a small smile working across her face. How much has Abby seen of them? Are they such an immediately appealing bunch? Even Derrica's limitless patience recognizes that Riftwatch as a group is more exasperating than not to those who haven't built up a tolerance to them.

[armd]

"The whole... going on missions thing," Abby explains, gesturing loosely with one hand, and scratching Noose underneath the chin with the other. "And the divisions. I think he'd be a good scout."

It would be good to have the anchor in common with him. Be on the same team together. She shrugs, and has to stop to wipe dog-spit off on her pants, giving Noose a slightly reluctant look as she straightens up again to keep walking. "Sorry boy. Can't imagine dogs are allowed in the infirmary."

[tender]

"Noose goes wherever he likes," Derrica explains, though apparently Noose hasn't yet concerned himself with a location. Bereft of pets, he's presently luxuriously scratching at the back of his neck with one paw.

Unwinding her arms, Derrica lets the subject drop as she turns to begin walking deeper into the Gallows.

"Did you work for an organization like Riftwatch before you came here?"

Which is maybe the kind of question that tips towards: Is there a war happening where you came from? Organizations like Riftwatch and the Inquisition don't sprout up in times of peace, so it follows that if Abby had served in a similar outfit, then she didn't come from a place entirely at peace

[armd]

"Noose," Abby echoes, amused by the name, and notices Noose's ears cock at the sound of it in their direction as they trail away. He seems content to stay right where he is though, having absorbed enough affection for the time being. She hopes she'll see him around again soon. Maybe she can get him to come along for a walk.

Derrica's question has her making a face in response before she can help it. "Sort of. I was with the Washington Liberation Front before I got here, but it was more..." What's the right word here... maybe, "Militant, than Riftwatch is."

Even then, the WLF were never anything more than a means to an end for Abby. She had no love for them, and now everybody is probably dead and gone anyways considering how their last mission went. It... feels weird, acknowledging that. Abby's been trying not to think about it for a while now.

Actually, since she's never asked, "Does Riftwatch have a leader?"

[tender]

Militant.

Riftwatch is not exactly that. Derrica isn't even certain the Inquisition would earn that descriptor, though by all accounts they'd come closer than Riftwatch easily.

"We don't," Derrica answers. "We have Division heads, and they're leaders, in their way."

There's an element of—

Derrica feeling her way through the answer. Are they leaders? They direct the actions of the collective, surely. But it doesn't feel the way Derrica imagines the Inquisition might, and it only rarely feels the way sailing under a captain had.

"You'll meet them," is what she tells Abby instead of trying to pin down exactly what the Division heads might be. "They aren't removed from us. We all live here together, so you'll see everyone sooner or later."

[armd]

Abby nods, understanding The WLF had informal squadron leaders, and Abby could loosely describe herself as such if she were ever asked about her role... sounds a lot better than 'top Scar killer' anyway.

"Everyone, huh." She rubs absentmindedly at the stitches on her cheek. They're close to falling out now, and they're itchy as a result, "Think I'm close to being tapped out on meeting people. No offense."

There's a lot for her to wrap her head around, that's all.

[tender]

"I understand," Derrica says, no beat of hesitation over the words. "It was overwhelming when I arrived here too."

Maybe not as overwhelming as Abby is finding it, but still. To be in a new place, surrounded by unknown quantities—

It's difficult. Being from Thedas hadn't been able to alleviate that entirely, and Abby doesn't even have that bit of grace.

"Would you like me to take those stitches out when we get there?" she offers, shifting away from new places and new people to offer something different.

[armd]

Abby grunts in acknowledgement. Overwhelming is a good way to describe it, especially with people taking interest in her as a result of her arrival. Clearly Riftwatch is short-staffed enough that they notice whenever anybody new pops up.

Her hand jumps away from her face when Derrica acknowledges the stitches. Caught.

"Yeah. That'd be good, if you don't mind."

[tender]

"It's no trouble," Derrica promises, as they ascend the stairs. She touches Abby's elbow briefly before turning into a door on the right.

The infirmary is modest, but bright and clean. Derrica tips her head towards a cabinet in the far corner as she leads Abby across the room to a smaller table.

"That chest belongs to Sidony Venaras, the ambassador's wife," she tells Abby. "Don't take anything out of it without asking her, or she'll be quite upset."

A delicate summation of Sidony's reaction over the last event. Derrica pulls a chair up, tips her head down to it in a silent sit here.

[armd]

It takes Abby a moment to realise that Derrica is indicating for her to take a seat because she's so interested in their surroundings. It is modest, and in a way she was both expecting and is still surprised by. Little rows of tools are set out neatly on carts, but that's where what she recognises comes to a swift end. There's no machinery in sight. It makes sense, but it still feels like a glaring omission to her.

"This is crazy," she mutters, reaching out toward a little rack of potion bottles set into a wall, rubbing her fingers over their glass fronts curiously. Kinda looks like something you'd find in a Scar nest.

She'll take a peek in the chest... later, maybe when she can catch a moment in here alone. Not to take anything, just because she's nosey. Also, coming back to take her seat promptly now that she's noticed Derrica is waiting for her to, oops.

"Do... you perform surgery in here?"

[tender]

"Sometimes," Derrica tells her. "But most of the worst injuries happen when we're in the field, and that's handled in the tents there. Or it was, before the war came so far south."

Now, who knows? Maybe those who sustained serious injury could be rushed back to the Gallows.

Abby sits and it's a help; Derrica might not have been able to reach her face properly otherwise. Her fingers are very light on Abby's jaw, tipping her head one way, then the other, to examine the work.

"Magic helps," she says, attention divided between the conversation and the work at hand. "Sometimes you can avoid surgery altogether if you have the right healer on hand."

Which has dwindled, just three in residence and one of those three a very reluctant participant.

[armd]

Lev did it for her, it was too difficult for Abby to finagle herself without a mirror handy. He was nervous and it could show in the stitch-work, but he did a really good job considering she had to take him through the process step by step.

"Magic sounds too good to be true," she admits, turning her head dutifully in each direction Derrica's fingers gently push it to go. "Is there some draw-back to it? Does it take a long time to... cast?"

She doesn't really know what she's talking about, so her terminology is probably off.

[tender]

Yes, the stitches aren't perfect. But they were done with care, even if maybe with trembling fingers. Derrica has certainly seen far worse. The wound has healed well. The stitches will come out easily, and Derrica can mop up the rest once that's done. Her fingers are very light against Abby's cheek before she smiles, nods, and reaches for a pair of tweezers from her table.

"Some spells do," she says. "But most are quick. Especially ones meant to protect you in a fight."

As she speaks, she gently takes hold of one stitch, begins tugging it loose with extreme care.

[armd]

She holds her reply until Derrica has tugged the first stitch loose, and then she works her jaw for a moment in the reprieve, reaching up to rub at the back of her neck.

"... And you can't learn how to do them, can you." Her smile is slightly rueful; it would be too easy, if that were the case.

[tender]

"Who do you mean?" Derrica prompts, laying aside that first stitch in a shallow little basin on her worktable.

It's a question with many answers, depending on who Abby means. She waits still, letting Abby resettle, before tipping her head slightly to study the second stitch and consider the best angle to catch hold of the knotted end.

[armd]

"I mean magic in general," she clarifies, after a pause in which she realises Derrica is giving her time to answer instead of going in for the next stitch immediately, "Can you learn how to use it? Or do you have to be... born knowing?"

Like Harry Potter, she thinks. They had four full sets available at the stadium; the only books on constant loan from their small library.

[tender]

"Mages are born with the ability," Derrica explains. The tweezers close over the stitch. The tugs are quick and careful, with Derrica's fingers light at Abby's jaw. "Our magic comes from the Fade. We study to learn how to control our powers, but it isn't—"

A pause, as the stitch comes free. Derrica breathes out, turning back to the table to disregard the thread.

"It's not the product of study," she settles on, looking back at Abby. "Are you a mage?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQgd6MccwZc

[armd]

She's good at what she does. Abby doesn't enjoy the feeling of the stitches being tugged out but Derrica keeps that experience to the bare minimum, and she appreciates her thoroughness. She exhales, and shifts in place, tilting her cheek to keep the stitches in the best light.

"Not a mage. There's no magic, back where I came from."

After the next stitch's removal, "... I'm disappointed. Was hoping I could–" What's a... magic spell. "Learn to fly, or something."