faderift | (Closed) The din in my head, it's too much and it's no good

It had been an odd group, on her most recent field work assignment. Cosima supposes that Riftwatch agents are likely on the odd side as a cohort, but even so, it had been a party who likely wouldn't have all been assigned together. But she'd gotten her measurements, and she's back in one piece. She's not ungrateful.

Her gratitude was difficult to calibrate for those who'd volunteered, but in at least one case, she'd gotten an acceptance when she offered to buy a round as a thank-you for coming. If the acceptance was out of uncertainty of a polite way to refuse, well. She can work with that. So she and Ellis find themselves at a mid-tier Lowtown tavern.

While not fancy, it's the sort of place a brawl is unlikely to break out. (And, from her experience, where anyone's unlikely to get bent out of shape if they catch a glimpse of a glow in her palm.) For all that he's seen she's not much use in a fight, Cosima has a sure command in a social environment. She firmly but pleasantly secures them a corner booth, and when someone runs into her, he apologies before she warmly assures him it's fine. She doesn't seem to register any of this as especially unusual as she slides in opposite him, two pints in hand.

"As promised. And thanks again."

"There's no need for that."

The thanks, or the drinks. But he still accepts the tankard slid across the table to him.

"It's not the first time I've followed along on a research mission."

If he were to tally up the amount of time he'd spent working alongside Wysteria and Tony, it may well outstrip the amount of time he'd spent working on Forces missions. Gratitude feels misplaced at this late point.

"Did you get what you needed?"

"Look, even if it's your job, you took it seriously. I appreciate that." It's worth at least one beer, in her opinion.

But instead of lingering over the gratitude and risking making him uncomfortable, she answers his question. "Honestly, kind of hard to tell yet. We got a lot of data, which is good. Better odds of being useful. But I'm going to have to spend some time going through them with a fine-toothed comb to really get a sense of whether there are any useful patterns." She takes a drink, then adds, "On the other hand, with the invasion, who knows how safe it's going to be to go out again. Getting a bunch of data this time is probably our best way forward, even if I was sort of just taking down any measurements I could think of and hoping for the best."

"Aye," is the customary response when the topic of data or measurements arrives. Ellis has so little of use to add that it's almost comical.

But what he does have on offer that will be of use—

"I'll be happy to accompany you then, if you like. As long as I'm not needed elsewhere."

Because regardless of what Tony might have to say about it, Ellis is technically a member of Forces.

"Hey, dude, thanks. That's really solid of you." She realizes, then adds, "Good of you. Sorry, I'm still like ... recalibrating my speech to Thedas settings." Her smile is just a bit sheepish; she's working on it, though time around Tony hasn't helped, especially.

"But I really do appreciate it. I'm trying to get a handle on using my anchor shard as a shield but it's slow going, and other than that I'm not much use if things get physically dangerous."

"I take the meaning," is maybe an overestimation of Ellis' talents at discerning slang from context clues. "You needn't apologize."

Especially because Ellis spends so much of his time with Tony, who has rarely taken the time to consider recalibrating his speech. Ellis is used to parsing unfamiliar dips in conversation.

"Could I ask you of it? Your shard?"

Which feels indelicate, particularly considering how little they know of each other. But Wysteria and her shard are never far from his mind these days. There's no illusions that he might come up with a solution, but perhaps—

From what he understands, Cosima has been here before. Short of needling Gwenaëlle Baudin, this might be the best person to ask.

"Oh yeah, sure." If it's an indelicate question, she doesn't seem to mind, from the frankness of her tone. "I mean, there's still a lot I don't know. But I'm happy to answer whatever I can. And I've got some theories, though not enough data on that. Still. What's on your mind?"

"Does it pain you?" is maybe a little more blunt of a question than Cosima might have expected. But Ellis doesn't know how to dress this query up in a way that disarms it.

Shards are a delicate thing to speak of. Ellis has some sense of it, understanding what it is to have some foreign thing residing within your body, changing it beyond your knowledge. The only saving grace the shard might have is the visibility of it, how easy it is to mark and utilize.

But still, Wysteria's hand is not faring so well. Cosima has come and gone. Maybe she has some insight no one else has gained.

"Physically, not bad. It aches, sometimes, and closing a rift is a weird fucking feeling, but I've been lucky that I haven't had problems with it." She leans back, taking a sip of her pint. "It's, um, sort of existentially weird. The reminder of it. But given some of the alternatives, I can deal with that part."

"Existentially weird?" comes as a prompting echo.

He's asked as much as he can without being specific about his worries. And he isn't sure it's his place to share his concerns about Wysteria's shard. She wouldn't thank him for it, and Cosima might not be able to do much of anything for the situation anyway.

So instead, there's this question, prompting for something Ellis has certainly never experienced the equivalent of. Existentially weird seems a step beyond what Ellis had been thinking of a moment before.

"OK, well, unelss anyone's made any discoveries they're not sharing, no one is sure what Rifters are, right? So for us, in contrast to natives who caught a shard, it's like... well, it's in the name, right? An anchor. We're connected to the Fade."

She glances down at her own hand. She used to be scrupulous about fingerless gloves in Kirkwall proper, but these days, it's more for her comfort than for the comfort of those around her. People in Kirkwall have adjusted, in the time since she was last here.

"I think all the evidence points to us being some sort of metaphysical copies of our original selves," she says, after a short pause. "And that doesn't mean we're not real, or not people, or don't deserve rights. But it does mean, if it's true, that we all have to cope with the idea of the self we remember being just like ... going on with our lives, back home." A smile, a little more muted than Cosima usually is. "For me, the idea that I wasn't anywhere, or at least, not as a self I'd recognize, between the first and second times I was here. Thus. Existential weirdness."

The trip outside Kirkwall had yielded quite a bit of data. What she hadn't done while in the field was much analysis. That's for her office back at the Gallows, where she's been sifting through her recorded measurements and preexisting data, looking for patterns and jotting down a few ideas that are too sketchy to be called theories yet. Ecology isn't strictly her area, but it is interesting.

She's told Tony she'll follow up on the initial report when she can, but it's possible he'll get impatient and seek her out before she gets to it. If he does, he can likely find her in her office. She hasn't left it much except to occasionally replenish her supply of fresh rolls, cheese and fruit. Eventually, she'll probably remember she also needs to sleep, but that's a tomorrow problem.

(Closed) The din in my head, it's too much and it's no good

Ellis

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ten thousand years later

time is fake

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time continues to be fake

Tony