WHO: sam drake, beth greene, laura kint, & YOU WHAT: open post to try and get back into the groove. starters in comments, hmu for something custom. WHEN: post-modplot, generally in august WHERE: the gallows, kirkwall NOTES: tbd
Sometimes--starting around dusk, occasionally continuing right on til dawn--there's a shadow that lurks in corners and crouches on rooftops. It moves through the darkness in silence and waits for danger. And when danger arises, it leaps out and punches.
She keeps her hood up despite the heat, stays out of view, does everything she can to prevent would-be criminals from seeing who's prevented them from whatever they've attempted: theft, assault, something yet worse. But tonight, she's attacked a mugger who attacked right back, and in the fray, her cowl's knocked back from her face. (In return, she knocks him unconscious.)
It wouldn't be a problem--the mugger's victim has already run--if not for the fact that there's another shadow. Someone at the other end of the alleyway has stopped, is looking at her and the thief at her feet. She freezes, her pale face lit by the moons above, hands formed into loose fists as though to anticipate a fight.
[ around. ]
Laura can always be counted upon in a few places. The marketplaces in Kirkwall are a particular favourite, whether she's buying something or not. Her favourite stalls sell spices, jewelry, and little trinkets that exist for reasons beyond usefulness. Find her there, and she might ask your opinion of something, or simply say hello.
The dining hall in the Gallows is a reliable location as well, where she eats a surprising amount and attacks her food with a fork and one of the ghostly claws in her hands. If you haven't seen a girl with blades in her fists before, it might be a bit of a surprise.
(Or later, when the dining's over - and generally very carefully not when Mrs. Fitcher holds her usual games - she might be sat at a table with a deck of cards. Sometimes, there's a cat beside her, licking its paws. "Do you play?")
Her favourite place in the Gallows, though, is the battlements, where she can watch the sea. Did she use the staircase to get up there or climb some walls? Don't worry about it. It's a good place to be, a better place to consider talking.
wildcard.
[ Want to hit me with something unexpected? Go for it. Want a bespoke starter? Grab me on plurk or discord. ]
Abby is similarly loose but in a far less violent way. She's mapping out Kirkwall for the first time, and there's a lot of land for her to cover, a lot to see, and little people out to interrupt her path through winding streets. Hightown takes most of the afternoon to traverse and her legs are sore when she slips down into Lowtown; she'll sleep well tonight, solidly. That's something she needs right now, to keep from slipping into old habits.
She's taking what she thinks is a shortcut and catches both the start and end of a scuffle. It happens too fast for her to have to jog in but she's still quick enough to catch an instigator, standing starkly in the middle of the alleyway with two fists drawn and ready for her. Abby's adrenaline spikes, and she draws up instantly, but–
"Laura?" The name exhales out of her, the fight dying as soon as it surged.
One of the difficult things about meeting new people is knowing what to do about the moment they learn just who she is. Laura Kint, someone's pet assassin. Laura Kint, who murdered people in their beds. Laura Kint, who-- Eventually, they'll find out - or perhaps they won't and Laura will have to tell them - and that changes things. But knowing that it's happened, or how it's likely to affect her ability to work with others, is still difficult territory for her.
The first inkling that something's going to be altered doesn't normally come in an alleyway. She sucks a breath in at the sound of her name, coming from a girl with a sharp nose and a frame built for brawling.
Her footsteps are silent as she closes the distance between them. The mugger lies prone behind her, halfway forgotten. In a soft, serious voice, she informs Abby, "This is a secret."
Laura moves akin to a shadow. She curls up, out of the darkness and into the space between them, and she's shorter than Abby but she's much sterner. Abby almost wants to take a step back from her, but she holds, both her position and the eye contact.
"Okay." She wants Laura to know she's serious. Abby doesn't know her, they've only just met. Of course she isn't going to fuck up– whatever this is. Interrupted murder attempt, is what she's guessing, as she's just registered that the body lying behind them on the stone is, in fact, breathing.
"Don't worry. I won't say anything." Who would she tell?
The list of potential recipients of this particular bit of intelligence seems long to her. Commander Flint. Anyone in the City Guard. Everyone she counts as friends. Anyone who might want to denounce Riftwatch.
"Thank you." Laura glances back at the body of the mugger, lying prone in the alley. She did nothing to make him more comfortable. People who attack women in dark sidestreets should wake up sore. "We should go. Where are you going?"
This alley couldn't've been Abby's destination. Wherever it is, they can go together, and Laura can blend into the rest of the night.
Look, Abby of all people understands having secret beef, so even though she raises an eyebrow at the body as Laura draws attention to it, she doesn't say anything beyond that.
"It's nothing." Apparently, they're becoming a group. Abby jerks her chin up the alleyway, and starts moving again, wholly expecting Laura to fall into step behind. "I was actually heading back to the Gallows, unless you know a good place to stop around here. Been exploring today."
Its been good. She feels a little more secure in her surroundings, now that she's essentially cased the joint.
Laura considers this as they walk. There are places she likes that are closed by now - most of them, in fact. But she's found a few taverns that appeal to her, and most of those are still serving drinks at this hour.
"Do you want to eat food, or just drink something?" she asks, after thinking through the options.
"I used to get lost," Laura tells her, because this seems like an opportunity to sympathize. They take a right, decidedly not through an alleyway. "If you cannot find your way, go toward the smell of fish. Going back to the Gallows is easier from the docks."
"Thanks." That's really helpful. Abby's going to file that away for later. She's trying to memorise where they're going right now but it's difficult, because this place is like a maze. A lot of it looks the same to her.
Having most certainly used the staircase, Derrica has occupied the space beside Laura, elbows on the stone. There's a storm rolling in slowly from far out at sea, and the air is heavy with the possibility of rain.
With her chin pillowed on one hand, Derrica tips her head and says, "I heard you and Matthias have moved into the same room."
There's a gentle, teasing lilt to her tone. This is good news, surely.
Laura glances over when Derrica joins her, giving her a little smile. Derrica is one of those people with whom she can stand in silence, looking at the waves, and never wonder if she needs to say something. When she's supposed to talk is always clear - if only because Derrica asks a question.
A cheerful one, something that might have startled her in months or years before. Right now, she mostly looks shy. "You noticed."
"It is...nice." She doesn't know how to explain the breadth of it, how their possessions intermingle and the cat sleeps between their legs and he never wakes her. The best she can come up with is, "I sleep better."
At the thought of a gift, Laura's head tilts, curious. "Is that customary?"
"In some places, yes," Derrica answers, though she stalls after, unsure of how exactly to go on. Mages tend not to have tradition in this way; Derrica understands the anomaly of it. What she ways next is a sort of compromise, skirting away from Rivain as she explains, "I've traveled more than most people, and I like the idea of it. Gifts to mark an occasion like this."
To bring luck and good fortune, things Derrica thought Matthias and Laura could use, even though they're safely insulated within Riftwatch. (Mostly. The new-arrived Seeker and the small contingent of templars have not gone unnoticed.) Straightening from her slouch, she asks, "Do you want me to give it to you?"
"I wouldn't refuse a gift." That would be rude, and unnecessarily so; Laura's come to enjoy presents. They're surprises that rarely lead to harm or unhappiness.
And a gift from Derrica is going to be thoughtful and kind. That's who Derrica is.
Derrica smiles wide in answer, pleased, before undoing the latch of her satchel.
"It's not the kind of gift that keeps," she says, a little apologetic, as she draws a jar of honey from her bag and sets it on the stone between them. Her second dive into her satchel retrieves a cloth-wrapped parcel, which is deposited beside the jar. "But it's a sort of tradition when people make a home together to give them things like this."
And as far as Derrica is concerned, that is what Matthias and Laura are doing together. They've come together to build a little home for themselves within the Gallows, and maybe one day, they'll build something else together, somewhere else.
The crime, in this case, was simple burglary at the back entry to an inn -- the prybar he’d swung over her head rattled to a late stop in a puddle, ozone still sharp in the air where tendrils of electricity had seared green from his fingertips. His glove on that side is still smoking, one finger scorched bare through blackened leather, poking like exposed bone.
The witness is a cat, dark, leggy, lean, and familiar, her shadow thrown long down the alley’s throat by the slant of a tavern’s light far behind her. Her eyes are wide and her ears are pinned flat.
The thief is also leggy and lean, laid out still at Laura’s feet in a hooded cloak and thieves' leathers. A scarf tied over his nose obscures his identity, but there is something familiar too about the creep of his particular stink from beneath the gap of his collar, the hole in his glove. Red wine twists acrid on his breath and in his sweat, elfroot smoke baked into the cloth of his tunic and the leather of his armor.
Rarely social outside of the occasional card game, Mister Dickerson has been a fixture of Riftwatch for nearly two years.
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laura kint.
limit 1
Sometimes--starting around dusk, occasionally continuing right on til dawn--there's a shadow that lurks in corners and crouches on rooftops. It moves through the darkness in silence and waits for danger. And when danger arises, it leaps out and punches.
She keeps her hood up despite the heat, stays out of view, does everything she can to prevent would-be criminals from seeing who's prevented them from whatever they've attempted: theft, assault, something yet worse. But tonight, she's attacked a mugger who attacked right back, and in the fray, her cowl's knocked back from her face. (In return, she knocks him unconscious.)
It wouldn't be a problem--the mugger's victim has already run--if not for the fact that there's another shadow. Someone at the other end of the alleyway has stopped, is looking at her and the thief at her feet. She freezes, her pale face lit by the moons above, hands formed into loose fists as though to anticipate a fight.
[ around. ]
Laura can always be counted upon in a few places. The marketplaces in Kirkwall are a particular favourite, whether she's buying something or not. Her favourite stalls sell spices, jewelry, and little trinkets that exist for reasons beyond usefulness. Find her there, and she might ask your opinion of something, or simply say hello.
The dining hall in the Gallows is a reliable location as well, where she eats a surprising amount and attacks her food with a fork and one of the ghostly claws in her hands. If you haven't seen a girl with blades in her fists before, it might be a bit of a surprise.
(Or later, when the dining's over - and generally very carefully not when Mrs. Fitcher holds her usual games - she might be sat at a table with a deck of cards. Sometimes, there's a cat beside her, licking its paws. "Do you play?")
Her favourite place in the Gallows, though, is the battlements, where she can watch the sea. Did she use the staircase to get up there or climb some walls? Don't worry about it. It's a good place to be, a better place to consider talking.
wildcard.
[ Want to hit me with something unexpected? Go for it. Want a bespoke starter? Grab me on plurk or discord. ]
alleyway
She's taking what she thinks is a shortcut and catches both the start and end of a scuffle. It happens too fast for her to have to jog in but she's still quick enough to catch an instigator, standing starkly in the middle of the alleyway with two fists drawn and ready for her. Abby's adrenaline spikes, and she draws up instantly, but–
"Laura?" The name exhales out of her, the fight dying as soon as it surged.
no subject
The first inkling that something's going to be altered doesn't normally come in an alleyway. She sucks a breath in at the sound of her name, coming from a girl with a sharp nose and a frame built for brawling.
Her footsteps are silent as she closes the distance between them. The mugger lies prone behind her, halfway forgotten. In a soft, serious voice, she informs Abby, "This is a secret."
no subject
"Okay." She wants Laura to know she's serious. Abby doesn't know her, they've only just met. Of course she isn't going to fuck up– whatever this is. Interrupted murder attempt, is what she's guessing, as she's just registered that the body lying behind them on the stone is, in fact, breathing.
"Don't worry. I won't say anything." Who would she tell?
no subject
"Thank you." Laura glances back at the body of the mugger, lying prone in the alley. She did nothing to make him more comfortable. People who attack women in dark sidestreets should wake up sore. "We should go. Where are you going?"
This alley couldn't've been Abby's destination. Wherever it is, they can go together, and Laura can blend into the rest of the night.
no subject
"It's nothing." Apparently, they're becoming a group. Abby jerks her chin up the alleyway, and starts moving again, wholly expecting Laura to fall into step behind. "I was actually heading back to the Gallows, unless you know a good place to stop around here. Been exploring today."
Its been good. She feels a little more secure in her surroundings, now that she's essentially cased the joint.
no subject
"Do you want to eat food, or just drink something?" she asks, after thinking through the options.
no subject
"... This place is a lot bigger than I thought it was. Kinda thought I'd be back by now, but I got lost a few times."
no subject
no subject
"Where we headed?"
battlements.
With her chin pillowed on one hand, Derrica tips her head and says, "I heard you and Matthias have moved into the same room."
There's a gentle, teasing lilt to her tone. This is good news, surely.
no subject
A cheerful one, something that might have startled her in months or years before. Right now, she mostly looks shy. "You noticed."
no subject
It had been hard to miss Matthias glowing his way through the Gallows. Even if Laura is more reserved, Derrica can see some of that in her too.
"Can I give you a gift? Something for both of you?"
no subject
At the thought of a gift, Laura's head tilts, curious. "Is that customary?"
no subject
To bring luck and good fortune, things Derrica thought Matthias and Laura could use, even though they're safely insulated within Riftwatch. (Mostly. The new-arrived Seeker and the small contingent of templars have not gone unnoticed.) Straightening from her slouch, she asks, "Do you want me to give it to you?"
no subject
And a gift from Derrica is going to be thoughtful and kind. That's who Derrica is.
no subject
"It's not the kind of gift that keeps," she says, a little apologetic, as she draws a jar of honey from her bag and sets it on the stone between them. Her second dive into her satchel retrieves a cloth-wrapped parcel, which is deposited beside the jar. "But it's a sort of tradition when people make a home together to give them things like this."
And as far as Derrica is concerned, that is what Matthias and Laura are doing together. They've come together to build a little home for themselves within the Gallows, and maybe one day, they'll build something else together, somewhere else.
alleyway
The witness is a cat, dark, leggy, lean, and familiar, her shadow thrown long down the alley’s throat by the slant of a tavern’s light far behind her. Her eyes are wide and her ears are pinned flat.
The thief is also leggy and lean, laid out still at Laura’s feet in a hooded cloak and thieves' leathers. A scarf tied over his nose obscures his identity, but there is something familiar too about the creep of his particular stink from beneath the gap of his collar, the hole in his glove. Red wine twists acrid on his breath and in his sweat, elfroot smoke baked into the cloth of his tunic and the leather of his armor.
Rarely social outside of the occasional card game, Mister Dickerson has been a fixture of Riftwatch for nearly two years.