WHO: Loki, Erik, Adrasteia & y'all WHAT: Catch-all WHEN: Late Solace / Early August WHERE: Kirkwall NOTES: Language warning for Erik, otherwise nothing yet. Open starters in comments.
Erik is a man who likes to keep busy. On his return to the Gallows he continues his combat exercises in full armor, plays some tennis, and takes advantage of the heated baths on a several-days-per-week basis.
For his part, generally, when he's not in the Gallows, can be found in the Market District of Lowtown or in a Lowtown bar here or there. Erik doesn't appear to have a favorite watering hole. There's also city projects to work on, like building temporary refugee housing
He also pops in on the Alienage from time to time, a familiar albeit human face amongst the elves he's much taller than. He's often making haste through the neighborhood in the thirty to forty minutes before the last ferry to the Gallows makes its departure from the docks, not weaving as he walks but only just barely. For someone that holds their liquor well, he seems to be taking it pretty heavily these evenings.
Abby's only just getting used to working with swords let alone in sets of full armour; nobody has spoken to her about missions or her own gear, and she has a vague feeling that it's up to her to sort it out. Turns out asking around gets you practice equipment, all of it ill-fitting and surprisingly heavy. Nothing she can't handle, but bewildering to think that people typically fight like this at the same time.
She's watching people practice, while she gets her grieves on. Better to keep it simple, and layering the armour on as she gets used to how it changes up her movements.
"Need a partner?" There's only one other person out practicing right now. Abby likes that, the dedication, so she calls out. Might be able to copy over a couple moves, too.
"Always," the man replies. He's dressed in his own armor, primarily colored in blues and silver, with a blade that lets off heat even when it's not actively on fire. Erik takes in the armor the girl is layering on and nods in her direction. "You new?"
Yeah. It's fancy shit. Abby eyes him as he approaches, trying to figure out from a glance if it's fancy because he's very good at what he does, or fancy because he had the coin to buy it.
"Two weeks," is all she says, strapping a pauldron on across her chest, pulling the leather tight. "Kinda new to this whole... sword, thing."
He does, and it barely registers to Abby. Most of the people she has known across her entire life have been soldiers, front line workers; survivors stand like that. Only would have been noticeable if he hadn't been.
"Glad to be here." The sarcasm is thick, but she still returns the handshake, her grip firm. "Abby. Been here long?"
Erik smirks a little, appreciating the firmness of her handshake. He likes this girl, even if she seems... young, for the way she carries herself. He's not gonna ask. War happens to all sorts of people, of all ages.
"Nine months or so? Maybe ten, now." A slight shrug. "War's been goin' on here for longer than that, though."
"Fuck," Abby says blandly, because she's been half-heartedly entertaining the notion of this being a weird pit-stop in her life and... nine months 'or so' is a lot longer than she would like that stop to be. Hmm.
Not the time to think about that. "Does war ever end?"
"Some people who appeared here at random disappear at random," he says in light of her unemphatic cursing, "so they might go home when that happens, if that's what you're worried about."
Him? Not so much. Easier not to worry about it when you're dead back home.
At her question, he weighs his hands. "I mean, eventually Corypheus is either gonna overrun shit or die. I'm hopin' for dyin', personally."
"Maybe a bit." Not in any of the information she's been offered up, has anybody talked about how to get home. Abby supposes that if it was a choice, she'd have been offered it by now. She had a chance to say no to Riftwatch, after all.
He certainly doesn't seem worried about it. Abby tries to draw on that, to reflect his casual behaviour; thankfully, his answer makes her snort.
"Sounds too good to be true. Butβ yeah. That why you're out training this late?"
"I mean, that's part of it." He rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "Rest is some shit about how I can't sleep no way so I might's'well do somethin' useful with my damned time."
At what he says next, she glances up, a hint of approval about her. "Same," she supplies, after a moment's pause, "Kinda used to having to wear myself out. Being in an unfamiliar place actually helps with that." Abby spends so much time out of the tower and learning new things that she's exhausted by the time evening falls. Doesn't take a lot of coaxing after that to get herself to sleep, but the nightmares, as per usual, are disappointingly consistent.
She's frowning back down at her glaives again, tightening a leather strap up. "β Am I doing this right?"
Erik snorts, amused. "Yeah, she's kinda like that." He likes Wysteria and all, but the woman could probably talk the bark off of a tree. He thinks she'd make an appropriately terrifying politician though.
Abby talks about wearing herself out and Erik nods along. He knows that song and dance well. "But then you're awake anyway, because of whatever shit." Nightmares and what the fuck ever else. "Prolly not the safest thing, combat trainin' in the dark like this, but I've done worse before."
He moves closer to see how she's fastening the glaives, shakes his head. "Nah, these have to overlap, like this. Otherwise it just slides the fuck off."
If he spoke it aloud, Abby would have to agree with that sentiment. Wholeheartedly.
"Yeah," is all she can really say to that, because it'sβ well, nail on the head, really, but she doesn't want to talk about that. The nightmares have been especially bad, lately. He's a stranger. No part of this conversation promises to gel.
The grieves are a good distraction for them both. She snorts at his direction, glancing up at the way he shows her his own to make sure she's doing it correctly. When they're on, she smacks them with the hilt of her weapon, and it makes a satisfying sound. "Thanks. Think I'm good without the rest. Have to get used to this first."
They shift with her as she gets to her feet, slightly weighty in a way she knows will mean her legs are going to be sore tomorrow. Fuck it. Abby relishes it.
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kirkwall & the gallows | ota
For his part, generally, when he's not in the Gallows, can be found in the Market District of Lowtown or in a Lowtown bar here or there. Erik doesn't appear to have a favorite watering hole. There's also city projects to work on, like building temporary refugee housing
He also pops in on the Alienage from time to time, a familiar albeit human face amongst the elves he's much taller than. He's often making haste through the neighborhood in the thirty to forty minutes before the last ferry to the Gallows makes its departure from the docks, not weaving as he walks but only just barely. For someone that holds their liquor well, he seems to be taking it pretty heavily these evenings.
no subject
She's watching people practice, while she gets her grieves on. Better to keep it simple, and layering the armour on as she gets used to how it changes up her movements.
"Need a partner?" There's only one other person out practicing right now. Abby likes that, the dedication, so she calls out. Might be able to copy over a couple moves, too.
no subject
no subject
"Two weeks," is all she says, strapping a pauldron on across her chest, pulling the leather tight. "Kinda new to this whole... sword, thing."
no subject
"Damn, well. Welcome to the shitshow." He extends a hand in Abby's direction. "Erik. Nice ta meetcha."
no subject
"Glad to be here." The sarcasm is thick, but she still returns the handshake, her grip firm. "Abby. Been here long?"
no subject
"Nine months or so? Maybe ten, now." A slight shrug. "War's been goin' on here for longer than that, though."
no subject
Not the time to think about that. "Does war ever end?"
no subject
Him? Not so much. Easier not to worry about it when you're dead back home.
At her question, he weighs his hands. "I mean, eventually Corypheus is either gonna overrun shit or die. I'm hopin' for dyin', personally."
no subject
He certainly doesn't seem worried about it. Abby tries to draw on that, to reflect his casual behaviour; thankfully, his answer makes her snort.
"Sounds too good to be true. Butβ yeah. That why you're out training this late?"
no subject
"I mean, that's part of it." He rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "Rest is some shit about how I can't sleep no way so I might's'well do somethin' useful with my damned time."
no subject
At what he says next, she glances up, a hint of approval about her. "Same," she supplies, after a moment's pause, "Kinda used to having to wear myself out. Being in an unfamiliar place actually helps with that." Abby spends so much time out of the tower and learning new things that she's exhausted by the time evening falls. Doesn't take a lot of coaxing after that to get herself to sleep, but the nightmares, as per usual, are disappointingly consistent.
She's frowning back down at her glaives again, tightening a leather strap up. "β Am I doing this right?"
no subject
Abby talks about wearing herself out and Erik nods along. He knows that song and dance well. "But then you're awake anyway, because of whatever shit." Nightmares and what the fuck ever else. "Prolly not the safest thing, combat trainin' in the dark like this, but I've done worse before."
He moves closer to see how she's fastening the glaives, shakes his head. "Nah, these have to overlap, like this. Otherwise it just slides the fuck off."
um did i mean grieves? mumble mumble mumble
"Yeah," is all she can really say to that, because it'sβ well, nail on the head, really, but she doesn't want to talk about that. The nightmares have been especially bad, lately. He's a stranger. No part of this conversation promises to gel.
The grieves are a good distraction for them both. She snorts at his direction, glancing up at the way he shows her his own to make sure she's doing it correctly. When they're on, she smacks them with the hilt of her weapon, and it makes a satisfying sound. "Thanks. Think I'm good without the rest. Have to get used to this first."
They shift with her as she gets to her feet, slightly weighty in a way she knows will mean her legs are going to be sore tomorrow. Fuck it. Abby relishes it.