WHO: Two Geckos + an assortment of guest stars WHAT: Summary of content WHEN: Late Bloomingtide WHERE: The Gallows, misc. Kirkwall haunts. NOTES: Will update as needed.
Key snags in Richard's thoughts as sharply as if she'd said his name. Locks and the opening of them were his business, his life, and the spill of ideas that come from defining this thing in his hand as a magical key was enthralling. If no one here knew the extents of what the thing could do, was there any limit? He flexes his palm, watching how it barely disrupts the green colour, like his flesh was no influence, just a host.
Should and should not were never much of a deterrent to him, but as his attention catches up with what she's said, memory supplies a little more evidence for the latter.
"I saw the things that dropped out with us." He closes his hand, letting it drop to his side again, like tucking temptation out of sight. "Guessing there's more where those came from."
Something like the portal to Xibalba, threatening to unleash hell on earth.
"A lot more," Ellie mutters, rolling her shoulders back to shake off a lingering shiver. It's not that cold up here.
"That, plus the laws of physics don't apply. I've been in the Crossroads and it was bad enough. I fly a griffon, and there's nothing like gravity changing direction while you're trying to get from point A to point B."
It's a lot to fit into one's head, though, and she pauses.
"How are you doing? Hitting your limit on weird shit yet?"
An eagle lion thing, and he does know, somewhat vaguely. Normally from those fancy crests and seals, old money, old power. But fantasy land having fantasy animals makes sense. He should probably check about unicorns and dragons.
"They don't sleep?" Yes is the immediate, real answer, but he can't say he likes the idea of waking up an 'aerie' full of flying lions.
Ellie snorts aloud, trying not to laugh and failing. She kind of appreciates the borderline dickish audacity -- it smacks of home. All scars out on display and free game. Very few people here have had the balls to ask, and then they've saved it for a private, serious conversation.
"No, that was a person. But I still don't recommend feeding them anything finger-shaped. Some of them aren't as smart as others."
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Should and should not were never much of a deterrent to him, but as his attention catches up with what she's said, memory supplies a little more evidence for the latter.
"I saw the things that dropped out with us." He closes his hand, letting it drop to his side again, like tucking temptation out of sight. "Guessing there's more where those came from."
Something like the portal to Xibalba, threatening to unleash hell on earth.
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"That, plus the laws of physics don't apply. I've been in the Crossroads and it was bad enough. I fly a griffon, and there's nothing like gravity changing direction while you're trying to get from point A to point B."
It's a lot to fit into one's head, though, and she pauses.
"How are you doing? Hitting your limit on weird shit yet?"
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He isn't attempting to answer her question. His brain's caught halfway through her previous sentence. It might be answer enough on its own, though.
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"A griffon. You know, an eagle lion thing? We have an aerie for them here in the gallows. Some of us ride them."
Quick pause, and then: "Want to see?"
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"They don't sleep?" Yes is the immediate, real answer, but he can't say he likes the idea of waking up an 'aerie' full of flying lions.
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They know her, mostly. Strangers are... hit and miss.
"I wouldn't recommend going on your own if you've never seen a griffon before. They're big babies, but they can still take a finger off."
(That wasn't the fate of Ellie's fingers, but it seems to have more punch when she says it.)
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Raised eyebrows, tip of his chin indicating her hand. He's not subtle, or particularly tactful.
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"No, that was a person. But I still don't recommend feeding them anything finger-shaped. Some of them aren't as smart as others."