OPEN

[acreage]

WHO: James Holden and YOU
WHAT: Catch-all
WHEN: Fantasy August + September
WHERE: The Gallows and Kirkwall, mainly
NOTES: N/A

Comments

ota

[acreage]

THE GALLOWS/KIRKWALL

By and large, upon their return to the Gallows, James Holden carries on in the same ways he always has. He can be found at his usual haunts: working with Research, at the stables grooming or returning from a ride on his horse, training with the blue-bladed sword he brought back from Orzammar.

When he's not, he can usually be found in Kirkwall: drawn, always, to the refugee settlements. He spends a lot of time with building the temporary shelters, though he can also be found helping pretty much anywhere an extra pair of hands is needed, up to and including, if asked, some impromptu babysitting.

One trying to catch him during some downtime might come to notice that he isn't, actually, taking any downtime.

FERRY

The downpour didn't come on out of nowhere, but there wasn't much warning before lightning started flashing and the rain began. Maybe they're on a late ferry back to the Gallows, without much protection to keep them from being soaked to the bone. He sighs, comments wryly,

"I've been meaning to get a new jacket."

Or maybe it's late enough for them to realize they've missed that late ferry, which is currently sailing off across the dark, choppy waters. In which case he'll frown, then say, "Any suggestions?"

He's familiar with inns in town, of course, but mostly on a name basis. He's never actually had to stay at one overnight before.

OBLIGATORY COFFEE PROMPT

You might run into him either in, or in the vicinity of, the kitchens at pretty much any time of day or night. His purpose there is readily apparent; he takes down a bag of coffee beans with him, brews himself a fresh batch of steaming coffee. If he happens to notice anyone else around, or he's greeted, he'll nod towards the hot liquid with,

"It's nearly done. Do you want some?"

LATE NIGHT

He's in the habit of leaving his door open, whenever he's awake and at his quarters. What this means, lately, is that anyone who wanders past his room at night — or early morning, or the time in between — isn't unlikely to notice his door ajar, lamplight seeping through the cracks. More likely than not, he's sitting with a book, though he'll look up at the interruption.

WILDCARD

[ feel free to dm me for a bespoke starter or just drop something here or on the post ]

coffee

[altusimperius]

"Yes," is the haggard response of the resident Vint, who stands holding two mugs and eyeing the pot.

"Is there enough for two?" One is, ostensibly, or Byerly.

[acreage]

There's enough for two and not much more — ready access to the kitchens and a lack of easy means to reheat means he's just kept making it fresh — but he doesn't hesitate before nodding. It's not like he doesn't have more coffee beans to grind; and God knows much of Riftwatch is burning the midnight oil right now.

As he starts pouring out coffee for the first cup, he murmurs a, "Careful." Benedict can see that it's hot, but warnings never hurt.

[altusimperius]

"Thanks."

Watching dully as Holden pours, Benedict struggles through the fog of his fatigue to be pleasant-- the man is doing him a favor, after all.

"You have assisted the war effort more than you could know," is what comes out, with a little smirk; the thing is, he means it.

[acreage]

"Coffee does make the world go round."

In his humble opinion. His agreement is good-natured despite the hour of night; and he quietly moves to filling the second cup once the first is done.

"Too bad we can't stop Corypheus with good coffee." He pauses. "Or bad coffee."

[altusimperius]

"That's how you can tell he's lost his humanity," Benedict muses, hunting around for a pitcher with cream in it (he's a weakling).

it's time for coffee-drinking.

[justashotaway]

Laura comes back to the Gallows on the last ferry for the night, sweaty and with a bruise rising on her cheek. It's likely to fade out by this time tomorrow night, and with it, the memory of breaking up a fight outside a tavern.

The scent of coffee reaches her long before she's on the threshold of the kitchens, peering inside at Holden. "Yes, please. Is any dinner left?"

[acreage]

He

pauses.

"Are you hurt?"

[justashotaway]

"No," Laura answers, coming into the room. Dinner's long since been put away, but there's usually something edible in the cupboards. As she goes to look, she explains, "The bruise will be gone tomorrow."

[acreage]

He makes an acknowledging sound — she's mentioned her healing before, but it's strange every time he remembers it — as he goes to pour off the extra coffee into another cup for her.

"Cream or sugar?"

She seems like someone who might take her coffee black; and, equally, she seems like she might enjoy the novelty of not doing so. Better to check.

[justashotaway]

She glances over at him from where she's climbed onto a countertop in hopes of reaching a cupboard that reliably has wedges of cheese inside it. "How do you drink yours?"

how many threads can i trap u into let's see

[tender]

It is quite late when Derrica appears in the doorway. Outside, a thunderstorm is still raging, which likely explains her present appearance: sodden cloak, rain beading in her hair.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" is a little teasing, as she lowers the hood of her cloak.

i'm thriving

[acreage]

"I could ask you the same question."

He says and beckons her in, setting aside his reading material in favor of standing. There are a couple of chairs by a currently unused fireplace, and he moves to meet her there.

"Do you need a towel?"

She doesn't look terribly uncomfortable, but he'd rather check.

[tender]

"No," she reassures. "It's mostly my cloak, and it'll dry out soon enough."

After shucking it off, she refrains from shaking it out in the middle of his room. Instead, she drapes it across the back of the chair before settling herself, drawing up one leg to hook beneath one knee.

"What were you reading?"

[acreage]

He glances back towards his desk at the question, breathing out.

"A few essays by Dante Adamos. He likes to argue why the people who have power and wealth should keep power and wealth," and his tone sure hints to what he thinks of that, "but it's got some insights into how Tevene society is structured. I'm learning something, anyway."

How it is, why it is. Jim 'all authority figures are bad, actually' Holden is emphatically not the target audience here, but there's value to understanding other viewpoints. Even, especially, now.

[tender]

A first impression: that is not the sort of book Derrica would find interesting.

But rarely does she find a book interesting enough to hold her attention, so that is not much of an impression.

So instead, she considers the entirety of the statement, what Holden is saying beyond that he is reading what is surely a very dry book.

"You wanted to learn about Tevene socity?" is a question posed slowly, Derrica turning towards him in her seat to catch his reaction. There's no immediate censure in her voice, just—

It's an unexpected thing. And maybe that's unfair to assume of him, that he'd be as shuttered in his views as the southerners in Riftwatch.

ferry.

[heorte]

Adjusting the strap of his satchel, Ellis spares one last look towards the ferry before turning towards Holden.

"We spend a little coin to get out of the rain," is his suggestion.

Maybe there's some specific complaint to be leveled at Kirkwall's guard arriving late to relieve him, and landing Ellis in the position of being stranded on the docks. But without any place to lodge it, the urge is quelled.

"Unless you're planning to swim it?"

A Joke.

[acreage]

"I'm not much of a swimmer."

Which is something he had cause to remember not so long ago, ha ha. Though at the time, rusty swimmer had proven to be significantly better than not one.

(He doesn't dwell on that.)

Instead, he turns, frowns faintly at what of Lowtown is visible in the gloom. His hair, open to the elements, is quickly flattening against his head. He shakes it, then says,

"If you have a favorite inn, now's the time to mention it."

[heorte]

A flick of a smile, acknowledging the former statement while considering the latter question.

"Aye, there's one I know of that might have a room at this time of night," Ellis answers. The rain is soaking through his coat. "We'll pay more for it."

Which is a useless statement. Any place that let rooms would cost more in this weather, knowing full well that travelers would have few options but to pay. Ellis raises an eyebrow at Holden anyway as he turns from the sight of the departing ferry.

Satisfactory?

[acreage]

"I'd be more surprised if we didn't."

Rain is wet, night is dark, and innkeepers will increase rates as soon as they have the leverage to do so. Some things are just universal constants, and should go expected. But he has the coin on hand, had considered stopping by a few shops for purchases at a time when he still had optimism for making it back to the Gallows earlier.

So he shrugs, turns as well and starts walking back into Lowtown.

"Does it always rain this much, this time of year?"

[heorte]

"Some years, aye. It's usually milder in the Marches, but still enough to make a mess of things."

Good for crops, but of little use in a city. Ellis falls into step alongside Holden, shoulders hunched against the rain. At the top of the first set of stairs, Ellis snares the sodden drape of Holden's sleeve, directs him to the left.

"Were you here for Riftwatch, or otherwise?"

In which otherwise means taverns, or trouble of some other kind, and it isn't that he thinks poorly of anyone engaging in such things, but Holden has never struck him as the type for carousing.

Stables

[muckspout]

Holden is most likely occupied with grooming his horse when Edgard suddenly appears on the other side of the horse.

"Psst! Holden!"

He twitches a little, seemingly ready to hide behind? under? the horse.

"Know the Farrier? Is he here?"

ENTER KEY

[acreage]

Um.

"He isn't here right now," he says bemused, not yet stopping his work. "Why?"

betrayed by keyboards

[muckspout]

Edgard's mood entirely changes. He suddenly stands up, walks around to the side of the horse Holden is on. He leans casually against the post that the horse is tied to.

"Oh. No reason. Nice horse. Is he yours? Do you ride very much? You missed a spot on his hindquarters there."

Farrier? What farrier?

[acreage]

"She," he corrects, in serious danger of laughing too hard to keep grooming. He pauses, anyway, makes some attempt to get his face under control. "Her name's Dulcinea. And, yeah, she's mine."

Like, okay, we can not talk about the farrier for a minute here.