faderift | OPEN | In my left hand there is the familiar

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OPEN | In my left hand there is the familiar

WHO: Allumin and YOU
WHAT: Open Catch-all
WHEN: Throughout the month of Guardian
WHERE: The Gallows & Kirkwall
NOTES: To be updated as needed - If you'd like a bespoke starter or wanna plan anything, feel free to hit me up on discord or plurk!

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On Allumin's day off he's met with a curiosity: it's sort of for work and sort of not, the decision to go to Lowtown and see if there might be anything interesting in the markets. There's a moment of consideration as he gets ready on whether it would be a boon or not to wear his uniform, but ultimately chooses something more modest and nondescript to wear, preferring not to attract anyone or their opinions (good or negative). This means he also does his best to tuck his ears into his hair and wears gloves so it's less noticeable at a glance that he's a Rifter.

It's not perfect - they keep wanting to poke out -, but an attempt is made. Shame he doesn't own a terrible hat for the winter (but also he would never own a terrible hat, even to fend off the cold weather).

In the market, he looks through the stalls for rare books that might not already be in the library (or maybe they are but he wants a personal copy), artifacts that might be hidden amidst junk, or perhaps for just a neat trinket to catch his eye.

After doing some shopping of mixed success, he takes the time to appreciate a rare (for him) evening drink or two at one of Lowtown's taverns. There's the odd drinking companion or a few through the night, before unfortunately being pulled into a brief bar brawl to cap off his night.

Well well well. Of all the people Abby thought she'd see getting thrown bodily out of a bar at some ungodly hour–

"... You okay down there?"

The reason for her being out past bed time is immediately apparent: she's been walking the dog. She coils his lead around her wrist to keep him close (and off Allumin, most pressingly), and holds a hand out to him to pull him up and onto his feet.

Is it very obvious she's trying not to laugh? "You're supposed to enjoy the drink inside the bar, y'know." Cuz he's got an awful lot splashed on him, judging by the smell.

Edgard enters the tavern in desperate need of a drink. He grabs an ale and notices a familiar face. He hesitates. Should he approach? He shrugs and plops down beside Allumin.

"Alright?" He nods to him. Guess he has to make conversation now.

"So, you drink! Nice to see that you have hobbies other than looking for people in closets."

It's not intended to be hostile, but there's an edge.

It had been a mixed bag getting injured back during the attack a few months ago - thinking about it still makes him reel over the simultaneously similar yet different quality between this world and his... own? It seems so far away now, and with the theory that they might be copies of some kind makes him wonder if even with memories and the distinct differences between native Thedosian traits and his own that if it's true then... technically Rifters are still of this world, aren't they? - Anyway, the downside of it all had definitely been his own selfish fear made real by being injured in an attempt to be nobler than his former self, but the upside meant a perfectly good excuse to be unavailable for work that meant leaving The Gallows.

Lots of time to just exist in the calm security of the offices and library. (It did put a dent in his midday sword training breaks he'd been taking for a while, however, and he couldn't be quite as overzealous as usual when it came to carrying large stacks of books here to there. Unfortunately.)

In an attempt to find a greater usefulness for himself, he recalled a conversation he'd had shortly after his arrival with Ellie - about teleportation magic and spell scrolls. Thinking over the concept, he'd taken into account that even if he were to try replicating that kind of thing here, the cost in materials, money, and time was too great to justify the output necessary to be really useful. But... There was inspiration in the tools that had been crafted to predict rift openings and measure information, and in hearing about the very new school of Rift Magic practiced by some native mages on the continent.

With an armful of files and papers filled with notes, he approaches.

"Hello - excuse me if I'm interrupting - but, I have a project I want to propose to Provost Stark and I was wondering if I could get a second opinion on it?"

He hasn't been here terribly long at all to obtain any reputation, but Mobius has made it clear to any who have asked that his particular interests lie in research. Even if he might be handy in a fight. Even if he's a fine enough talker with a calm enough disposition. What he's finding is that sometimes it's hard to know where to start looking other than just looking. And partly why he wants to arrange/rearrange the library.

Still, he was led here to do a job, and he'll take it seriously. When the elf - tall elf - approaches with so much parchment, his eyes already light up. Mobius clears off a bit of table space and motions for the mess to be set down. "Tell me about it, and I'll give you all the opinions you could want."

It'd been a purely innocent urge that leads to Allumin, standing outside Benedict's office carefully shifting his two-handed hold of a serving tray to balance on one arm so that he can reach out and knock softly upon the door. The time came in the early afternoon that he usually takes his lunch break, and he decided it might be a nice time to share a cup of the coffee he'd been gifted, maybe drop off a snack should Benedict be too busy to step away from work to grab something to eat.

As he made the coffee, however, his mind went back to a long since made and maybe even forgotten comment and a bit of mischief slipped into the equation. A harmless bit of fun to have, provided there's hopefully not a prestigious diplomat there and waiting to speak to the Diplomacy Head. (Please don't let that be the case, he wishes, because he wants this to be a delightful little surprise visit, and calling ahead would spoil that.)

He takes in a deep breath as he waits for a response, gathering himself so that he can keep a straight face.

"You can just come in, you know," calls Benedict haughtily from his desk, with the air of mild confusion that stems from people normally just walking right in-- it's his job to receive them, after all, before passing them through to Byerly. Imagine, if he had to get up every time someone wanted to enter!

His face is a bit indignant when he looks up to see who's responsible, but then it quickly changes to something rather like an apologetic smile.
"Allumin."

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OPEN | In my left hand there is the familiar

lowtown

bar brawl

Tavern

discussing research - anywhere you want it, that's the way you need it, bwa nananana naaa

no subject

oh mr. artemaeus, i've brought you a coffee

rips shirt open