faderift | It's a fool who plays it cool

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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