( open ) let me tell you a secret —

[delphian]

WHO: Tsenka Abendroth & some strangers.
WHAT: Tsenka dreamwalks through the Gallows.
WHEN: Over the course of this month.
WHERE: Asleep in your beds.
NOTES: You do not have to have commented on my OOC post to participate. Details within. Chicken horse not guaranteed.

HOW THIS WORKS.

Under ordinary circumstances, Tsenka is an expert in the delicate, painstaking manipulation of a dreamscape in order to extract the information that she wants—in this case, she is seeking knowledge of Riftwatch, the Inquisition, Kirkwall, the state of things and the safety of mages within the Gallows presently. Unfortunately, in this case, she is also fresh off about two and a half years in captivity during which she was often kept drugged out of her mind and exhausted from sleep deprivation; these are not ordinary circumstances, and she is not at her best. Her attempts to guide dreamers to what parts of their psyche she wants to see may not be as deft as they ordinarily would, and she'll have less patience for dreams embedded in less relevant information.
I will write Marcus's starter, but your character's dreams will begin like any other; set up your dreamscapes below, and await the chicken horse.

Comments

[delphian]

“Sir,” she says, scratching the mabari beneath its heavy jaw, “do rifters have souls?”

[overharrowed]

He shouldn't know what rifters are yet, in Kinloch Hold. They shouldn't exist yet. But with the logic that so easily carries one along in a dream, he accepts the question as perfectly natural.

"Well, we have a great advantage with rifters we lack with cats," this gets a small laugh from a few students, "which is that we can speak with them in words. I think, in general, it is always safer to assume a sentient being has a soul until proven otherwise, and we can easily argue that rifters are sentient." He glances at the board he's been writing on. "Now, though, with a hypothesis, I suppose what you're really asking is whether we can prove rifters have souls, which is something of a different question."

[delphian]

The little girl (dark-haired and dark-eyed, but with round ears and paler skin, unremarkable) laughs with the rest of the children, and puts her chin in her hands, gazing up at him. The room feels light. She wonders if it felt like when he was in it, if this is real or if he remembers it the way he wishes it had been,

“But spirits are sentient,” she persists, “and demons, within the Fade. Do we assume they have souls, sir?”

[overharrowed]

He doesn't seem put off by her pushing the point; if anything, he's pleased she's so engaged.

"There's a difference between giving the benefit of the doubt while we're ignorant and resolving to remain ignorant forever. If we wish to prove something, we must define our terms properly and create premises that can be supported or falsified. Can you think of something we might prove or disprove, if we tried?" Presumably related to the question at hand, though he leaves it open, as it might be a bit of a leap to expect a 13-year-old to make.

[delphian]

She bites her lips between her teeth, popping the lower one out over the top, pressing the corners of her mouth down in a not unconvincing parody of childhood thoughtfulness—

“Are we safe, sir?”

[overharrowed]

Some adults, possibly even many of them, would default to reassurance. Yes, of course we are. Julius doesn't. Instead, he leans against his desk, watching her thoughtfully.

"Well. First step: let's define a term. What do you mean by safe?"

The rest of the class is unnaturally quiet, their fidgets and reactions turned down like a low-burning oil lamp as his dream reshapes its focus around their conversation.

[delphian]

Gathering the mabari puppy into her lap, the little girl in the middle of the classroom (but without her desk? certainly, she had a desk, and there was a boy beside her, but they slide away like smoke) regards him with large, solemn eyes beyond her years.

“From the Templars,” she suggests. “Do we have to stay here?”

In this room, in this circle. It bends around her, then, and not him; the shadows lengthening, the walls oppressive. The windows narrow—Gallows windows, not Kinloch Hold.

Which side are you on?

[overharrowed]

The way his demeanor shifts as the dream gets away from him is subtle. It isn't that he was contented and now he's restless, or that he was calm and now he's frightened. But she likely can notice the way his attention sharpens all the same.

It takes him a longer moment to speak, as if retrieving the answer from farther away. "...no one in the world is safe, right now, but it's not the Templars who are threatening us today. No one is making us stay here." It feels right, but almost as if he doesn't know what he's going to say before he says it, a climber reaching for handholds he can't see.

[delphian]

The door creaks open. Beyond it—

“We could leave,” she says, testing. “If we wished to?”

[overharrowed]

He rises to his feet from where he's leaned against the desk. It is not only the boy that's gone, but the entire rest of the class. "Of course. We can go into town this afternoon if you like. If it will settle your mind." The setting has become somewhat impressionistic, between her image of the Gallows and his, the way he sees it now. Still, it doesn't seem to unsettle him, and he offers her his hand.

[delphian]

The mabari puppy is difficult to clutch in just one arm, and after a moment of struggle she relents and lets it down to wag its tail beside her as she reaches for Julius's hand.

“Show me,” she says, a gentle pressure.

[overharrowed]

It's easy enough to nudge him in a direction he has no particular reluctance to go. Her hand in his, they turn to leave the classroom. It takes him a moment to orient himself; the Gallows and Kinloch Hold, while both towers, are not laid out the same way. But after a the Gallows staircase comes more into focus, and he starts to lead them down.

"Is there anything in town you particularly want to see?" he asks, measuring his pace so they don't go tumbling down the stairs.