faderift | It's a fool who plays it cool

Better than he could have expected. Human, but with that strange scent about him. Is he familiar with shifters? With wolves? Because he's a natural. As Mobius reaches out to pat the top of his head, Jude lifts it, bumps his huge, heavy skull up under his hand, soft ears laying back so they won't scrape against his armor.

He moves in close, bumps his shoulder up against Mobius -- just by the small bump, he probably outweighs him. Stays there to twist his head around to look back where the Rift is, and sniff towards it. Where it's bleeding.

It doesn't look, and more importantly, doesn't smell like anything he's ever seen. It's nothing natural. The wrongness emanating from it makes his fur bristle, his hackles rise. A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, a low rolling thunder Mobius will feel more than hear.

Even if he can't speak in this form, the sentiment is clear.

What the fuck is that.

After Mado and Loki both confessed to being able to shift shape naturally, well, it's hard to be super surprised that people can just. be shifters. It still leaves him uneasy, fighting long-taught ideas about magic and the type that the Chantry doesn't even like to acknowledge, the type from the realm of hedgewitches and those of the wild.

He doesn't, of course, know that this huge honkin' heft of muscle can also become a person, and it seems unwise to assume such a thing. Historically, everyone who comes through the rifts, even if they were a species unknown to Thedas, simply became one of the local races. Who's to say a wolf isn't one of them, frankly?

But the guy seems friendly enough toward people, and Mobius becomes much more confident in petting him, running a hand over his head, down his shoulder, giving him a few thumping pats. "Yeah, you came out of that, and we're gonna close it up so nothing else follows you through. With those that have that shard of light in them same as you." Apparently. Look, this is all pretty weird, but he's rolling with it. "It's a rift. We call it a rift. It's a hole, a tear between...realities, in a sense. Between here, Thedas, and the Fade, where you had to go through to get here, a realm of dreams and chaos and unreality, kind of." How deep to go into it? To a wolf? A wolf who just came through it. Maybe don't get any further than that right now.

"It's a real problem all over our world, an ongoing issue, and you're not the first or last to come through. Can't send you back. You're gonna end up coming with us back to our base of operations."

Jude listens to it all, leaning his shoulder heavily into the man's leg, his body between his unlikely human companion and the Rift as he soaks in the explanation.

He pulls his lips back from his teeth, sneezes once at the slice in reality aggressively.

His wolf doesn't know how to make sense of it. His human is upset, horrified, but there will be time to digest this insanity later. For now, though- there something far more pressing. And this is going to require a mouth that can form human speech.

Jude moves himself from the man's grip, straightening -- and keeps straightening. The shift is smooth, other than the horrifying wet cracking noise that bones make as they break and then re-form. The whole thing takes only a few seconds. In between for a moment he looks somewhere between man and beast, like the upright wolfman of legend, and the fur is the last to go.

It leaves him taller than Mobius by several inches, his skin deep and dark as his eyes. And there's a lot of it, because, well, he didn't come in with clothes. That didn't change.

Jude looks from the rift back to Mobius, his lips a steady line.

"How do we close it?"

Who is he to argue with a wolf that weighs more than he does? Let it go on its way. Until. It stands up on hind legs and simply becomes a man. Like it's just that easy. Like it's not a shock to witness with his own eyes (and, eugh, his ears). Like that isn't just a huge wolf standing up and then rearranging its bones and skin and muscles and don't mind if he brings his sword back up, that seems to be a reasonable reaction to...all of that. Until the form settles into human.

"Andraste's flaming tits!" Because that all requires something a little more than just Maker's breath. Great, a Rifter with some Chantry-frowned-upon magic, that makes it better. Should he--oh, damn, he's naked as a jaybird, huh. Clothes? Are clothes a priority?

He lowers the sword again, still looking Jude up and down. "I'd say warn a guy, but you weren't exactly in a position to. You, uh. You might wanna let our guys take care of it. Are you cold?"

Jude's had fewer times he's needed to shift in front of non-shifters than perhaps most of his kind, but he knows it's never all that fun for the onlooker, especially if they're unprepared.

He'd have tried to be a little bit more sympathetic to the stranger's plight if he hadn't come out with that colorful bit of language, and Jude can't help the laugh that bubbles up in the back of his throat. It's just as deep as the growl of earlier, and he nods, grinning at him.

It feels good to have this much. Laughter, in the face of panic.

"Not cold, but I promise to wear pants if you have any."

No need to parade his bare ass around. Even wolves wore clothes most of the time.

"Didn't mean to, uh- catch you off-guard."

It's a tiny bit blasphemous, but frankly, what's a little blasphemy in the wake of all that wild shit that just happened. The laughter, at least, does help put Mobius more at ease, coughing out a quick laugh to break the tension, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah, about that. Can't say I thought 'what if someone comes through naked, better pack some pants'. Though even if I had," he clears his throat and keeps his eyes up (and up), as though he definitely didn't already take in an eyefull of werewolf, "I can promise nothing in my wardrobe would've fit you."

Surrounded by all these tall people, will he ever catch a break? Maybe, uh, maybe someone else brought something like clothes? A blanket, maybe?

"Lucky it's not winter. Come on, let's move away from the rift. I'll dig in the caravan, see what we've got." It might end up being some loose bit of covering, or even a burlap sack, but...well, if worst comes to it, new guy can wolf it up until they're back in Kirkwall proper and can get him some actual clothes and a uniform. "Unless you really want to do whatever it is people with shards in their hands do to shoot some Fade magic at it and close it."

There are papers and reports that vaguely describe the sensation, but like most things magical and otherworldly, it's hard to wrap the head around if one doesn't already possess these things. "It's in your hand, right? When it's not a paw. Glowing green and weird."

Jude moves to follow him, noting the way he's keeping his eyes strictly up. Shifters are very relaxed when it comes to nudity, but humans very much aren't. He resolves to try to keep clothes or fur on as much as possible.

Being furry comes with perks.

But as much as the cultural divide has broken the ice, it's time to address the big glowy portal behind him -- and the matching shard he's just realized is in his hand.

Stricken, he holds his hand up, turning his palm to try to see into the shard, then rubs his fingertip over it. It still feels like his hand. It trips him out a bit, and he has to stop looking at it before he falls into the panic he can sense struggling to free itself between the veneer of calm.

His wolf is frantic. He's never, not once in his life, not been able to feel his pack. It's like suddenly being blind or deaf. Even if Jude isn't in danger of having his sanity bled out of him from the lack, he understands exactly, now, how it happens to the others.

It's dizzying, how quickly he's adopting all of this shit, like he's absorbing a D&D rulebook. The alternative is not pretty.

"Is there a tutorial?" he asks, arching a brow doubtfully. The last thing he'd want to do is tear the damn thing open wider, and let in something worse. "For the magic?"

That's sitting right the fuck IN ME right now?

It's fine it's fine it's fine, nudity is natural, you don't spend most of your life sharing space with others without plenty of eyefulls, but it's polite to talk to someone's head on their shoulders, not any other heads.

But more importantly: the shard. Mobius hasn't done this before, doesn't have any kind of script ready or notes memorized. There's a moment when the Rifter looks at his hand that Mobius is pretty sure he can see the fear, the panic, before it's tucked away again. He's taking it...well? Surprisingly well, it seems, for having fallen into another world.

But it's still a lot. A lot to take in. Mobius stops short of the caravan and turns to the newbie, puts a solid hand on his shoulder.

"Let's take this a step at a time," is what he says first. It's appreciated that the guy wants to jump right into helping, and frankly he has no real idea if it's common for Rifters to be able to help with a closing so soon after literally just learning they have funky Fade magic, especially without knowing what the Fade even is. He imagines not. "There are others, plenty of others, in the same boat as you. I can promise that we've got a group of people who, among a lot of other things, are trying to figure out how to get this to stop. You'll learn. You'll train with others. You'll feel it out on your own, too." A breath. This isn't...his best work. But he's trying and he, too, will feel it out the more he goes on these trips.

Yes, it would be best to make the rifts stop. But the Rifters are so amazing. Each one a gift from Andraste. Watching Her work in action.

"So you can try if you want, pointing your bit of otherworldliness at the rift and pull some kind of magic out of yourself and into the hole in the fabric of reality, and we'll make sure you don't get got by demons. But maybe we should start with the simple basics first?"

He takes the hand off the shifter's shoulder and offers it for a shake instead. "Hi. I'm Mobius."

It's so painfully obvious that they're both new at this, and even if it doesn't put Jude at ease with the situation, it definitely endears him to Mobius. They can be new at this together.

Also- he's willing to touch him, to pat his shoulder. Points. Not many non-shifters have the balls, even if he's made the effort to be friendly and safe.

Jude is glancing at the Rift, looking very much like he might try. It seems a perfect opportunity, especially since the others are around, making it happen. He collects himself, is about to go, when-

Mobius offers his hand. It draws Jude's warm dark eyes back to him, and a smile immediately gentles his whole face. When the world's been upended, it does feel good to have someone on your side.

"Jude. Yes, like the song."

He reaches out to shake his hand, then belatedly realizes.

"... or maybe that song isn't a thing in this neck of the woods."

There is something so calm about this man. He's special, even somewhere beyond the wolf thing and the Rifter thing. Can't pinpoint how, but this is someone used to crisis and handling it. That his first impulse is to help certainly earns points for Mobius.

References a song, with the handshake, with a name. The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement at Jude's belated understanding. "Can't say I've heard it. Just like you probably don't know the Ballad of Nuggins."

(Maybe he'll ask Ellie about a Jude-related song. She might be able to strum a few chords.)

"Go on and give it a try, then, seeing as your currently nonexistent tail is practically wagging for it. Don't get too close. We'll keep demons off you. Don't worry if nothing happens, though, and you can come back and get...something to wear."

"Can't say I have," Jude says with a slight laugh -- where the hell is he? But that's a question for after he puts on pants. He doesn't feel like he can face a lot of what's coming before the basics are in place.

Maybe it's telling that he doesn't consider leaving the Rift until after pants, too. But it's a bit more pressing, given the demons and the sporadic sharp pains stabbing through the area of green light in his hand.

There are others already working on it, raising hands to the green, bleeding tear in reality. As Jude walks himself closer, he glances back at Mobius, then decides what the hell.

If he's been given a means to help, he'll damn well help.

Jude lifts his hand, splays out his fingers in a way that feels very dramatic and magical- and nothing happens. After a moment, he thinks it through, then presses outwards with a sense that isn't quite magical, but definitely isn't mundane, either. It scrambles and tries to catch on things that it's not meant for, feels the souls next to him like pulsing eddies of something else.

Slowly, carefully, Jude spreads his fingers to the Rift, feeling it out along the edges, and gives it a good push.

He touches something. Something that tingles through his nerves, sends a tugging feeling through his arm. He braces instinctively against it as it threatens to sweep him away and drown him in the undertow. Fortifies himself with the experience of a Sentinel used to impossible metaphysical weight. Follows the flow of the others, now that he can feel how they're channeling it.

Without the others, he'd be lost. They're showing him how.

But Jude doesn't know that. He reaches out for the Rift, grasps it, and joins the haul line in drawing the seams of it back together. It resists. It fights. So he bears down, more and more and more, until something snaps, and the Rift explodes.

It leaves him breathless and staggering backward, the feeling rushing back to his palm, tingling like a limb waking up from sleep.

"Well," he murmurs, turning his hand over, then back again. Not a scratch on him.

"That worked."

Mobius is not the only one keeping watch, doing whatever fighting needs done. But Jude's particular brand of furry fury helped make the general area a lot less immediately dangerous. He keeps his sword at the ready, eyes roaming, but keeps coming back to Jude and the rest.

Because he hasn't seen this, either. Part of him, some part of him that is more prone to making bad decisions than he'd ever admit, is jealous. There is a very real danger to having a shard: the slow but apparently steady growth that turns to illness that turns to limb loss or death, the inability to be apart from others for long, being ostracized from most society, the potential for kidnapping for use in experimentation.

But to be chosen, to be given the means to fight back in a way no others can, blessed with abilities beyond most mages? To touch the Fade, to grip it tight in hand? Maker, it must be magnificent in its own way.

It closes dramatically in a way that even catches him by surprise, and Mobius recovers enough to make his way to Jude's side, steadying hand on his arm.

"I'm impressed." And he really, really is.

Jude's arm tenses, then relaxes. His wolf turns towards him, metaphysically gravitating toward familiar, ally, friendly. Jude is usually one to trust his wolf's intuition. He's a pretty smart guy, for being fuzzy.

But there's some nuance to this. Lots of it. He has questions.

"Thanks," Jude mutters, looking down at the green glow in his hand. It hasn't budged, hasn't closed in the least. However, it no longer twinges and aches, pulsing along with the rift. But could it again?

"Is this going to be dangerous for you?" he asks, indicating the palm of his hand.

The danger to Jude himself seems a no-brainer, so he doesn't ask. Not yet. He needs pants for that conversation.

Mobius shakes his head. "Not unless you work on developing some extra powers and then decide to turn them on me. Nah. But there is a danger to you. Nothing immediate; you're safe now."

He is not aware of this pants/no-pants line, but Riftwatch has been taking in Rifters since long before it was ever Riftwatch. There's reading material, there are resources, there are people who can give him the rundown--maybe not in the middle of nowhere without pants.

"There's a lot to take in, a lot to acclimate to. I'd say don't push yourself."

"Easier said," Jude answers, with a wry smile. But the look in his eyes gentles it. Mobius is doing his very best to wrangle the impossible. And right now, Jude is part of that tangle of impossibility.

The questions are endless, and overwhelming. But no matter what, he knows where he isn't, even if here remains to be named. If there is a way back, then he doesn't doubt that it would be offered. They jumped in to defend him readily enough, and there are others in the same boat.

For now though, his wolf is still fucking frantic, and Jude's rapidly reaching the end of his capacity to distract him. Some things are easier to face in human skin, and some things are easier furry.

His wolf latches on to the important things.

There are others. Base of operations.

"Back to the base, right?" he asks. "I just need to follow you?"

He speaks like someone trying to get things straight, before he runs out of time. Unconsciously, he leans into Mobius, physically close. Just the way he leaned his wolf body up against his leg before he shifted.

For just a second, he spares a grateful thought to the idea that his pack isn't here. They'd be tearing down walls to get to him, with the amount of distress his wolf is howling into the atmosphere. He won't bleed out, but sentinels still bleed.

"To the Gallows," he says with a nod, "in Kirkwall. Don't let the name unsettle you; it's a nickname that's stuck because of some...unsavory history, but it's where Riftwatch calls home."

Big, tall people aren't intimidating to him, not really. And there's something about Jude that is in particular not intimidating in spite of said size and stature. Is it that he seems like a cool dude genuinely trying to make sense of a fucked up situation? Is it that he's a Rifter and therefore is already, in Mobius' mind, somewhat set apart? Unclear. But size doesn't do much to him save just making him feel a little small for all the six-foot-and-up monsters around him. They don't grow 'em that tall where he's from.

(Maybe. He doesn't actually know?)

But this is still new big naked guy leaning into him. Not in a way that reads as hurt and needs a shoulder to rest on. Just. Leaning. Maybe that's normal where Jude's from? Maybe that's just the socially accepted thing. Which, wild if true.

"Okay," he manages to say evenly, giving Jude a pat on the buff chest. This is him rolling with it. "We'll be packing it in shortly; let's actually get you on the caravan here." And something to wrap around his middle. Spare armor, maybe? "We can start filling you in on details along the way. Sound good?"

Even if it isn't physical, the hurt's there, and it takes real effort for Jude to straighten up. He accepts the pat without a single blink, like that's utterly normal for him too.

Mobius will come to find that leaning, pats, squeezes -- they're all just how he does affection, regardless of whether he's wearing skin or fur.

"Good," he echoes with a nod, but he's forcing the word out. He's never been one to retreat into fur to slough off his human emotions, but it's a coping mechanism intrinsic to his kind, and right now, he does need it. Needs a good hard run, and to lick the blood off until he feels right again.

"Actually," he says, pausing, easing back in a way that is in no way a rejection, if how he's still turned to Mobius is any indicator, "You mind if I run alongside? If it's far enough back I won't scare your animals."

They might do themselves an injury if he rides in one of the wagons. Even in human form, they know he's a wolf.

There's a little bit of a shift in the way Jude talks. Like he might not be all present. And then he mentions being a wolf instead. Mindful of the beasts of burden, too.

He does not technically have the authority to be giving any orders here or to actually rightfully say what Jude can and cannot do, but. He considers for a moment, then laughs. "Hey, it'll keep me from having to throw a sack over your manhood. Don't run off on us, though. Last thing we need is to lose a Rifter in the woods and find out you got snatched up by a dragon."

He also means it.

Jude searches his face, trying to see if he's being joked with, and is forced to conclude that dragons are a thing here.

Super.

"I'll stay close," he promises, which is probably more serious than he wants to be right now, but he's about reached the end of his rope with new things, and he needs to run and settle his mind, and get used to the thousands of new scents.

The next few days are going to be all kinds of unsettling, but he can do it. Turning just enough for a bit of modesty, he reaches up to re-tie the blanket along his shoulders, making the knot secure and at a practiced distance -- he knows how to carry things in his fur.

The shift is smoother this time, fur and claws and eyes, and within seconds, he's a wolf again, with intelligent eyes and a blanket around his shoulders. It'll mark him for anyone who hasn't gotten a glimpse of him yet.

Jude pushes his cold, wet nose into Mobius's palm, gives him a slight lick, and then with chilling silence disappears into the surrounding landscape.

It's a fool who plays it cool

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