open | brain heat meme

[cozen]

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: Nightmares, slumber parties, etc.
WHEN: Throughout Justinian
WHERE: Kirkwall and surrounding areas
NOTES: Ignore the first prompt if you're bothered by bugs. Also, while this is primarily to help people RP about their nightmares, feel free to use it for any kind of RP you want. (I.e., you have permission to set up a truth or dare game at the slumber party.) Talk about dreams OOC over here

This month, our heroes' sleep is getting more and more troubled. Here are some excuses to write about it.

I. SLUMBER PARTY: Mid-month, an infestation of hardy, prolific Antivan fleas requires everyone to avoid spending prolonged periods of time in their bedrooms while local alchemist Lloyd Meyers eradicates the bugs with his proprietary smoke bombs (and an equally proprietary flea bath for the Gallows' many pets). While the rooms air out for two or three nights post-treatment, bed rolls are available on the floor of the unstaffed dining hall. Sleeping outside in the courtyards is also an option, but a sudden squall of a thunderstorm will drive people inside on the second night.

Footnote: Characters who live in the city are welcome to join this slumber party anyway. Maybe they miss the ferry ashore, maybe they're afraid of tracking fleas into their own homes, maybe they already did track fleas into their homes and Lloyd is treating them too, etc.

II. ROOM SHARE: Does the thought of sleeping in the dining hall with all of your coworkers make you break out in hives? Have you missed the ferry on any other evening of the month? Lowtown has inns, and Riftwatch has a docks-side warehouse with a few side rooms outfitted as bedrooms. But there are only so many rooms available, so you might wind up sharing a room (or a bed) with a friend or whoever is nearby and desperate.

III. CAT NAP: A lack of sleep—whether it be from the nightmares, the workload, routine insomnia, or staying up too late playing Truth or Dare during the Antivan Flea Incident—might make a cat nap on a desk, in a reading nook, or over breakfast particularly appealing. And bad dreams don't need more than a few minutes to get rolling.

IV. CAMP OUT: Investigating reports of enemy scouts in the mountains, traveling along the roads to a neighboring city-state on a diplomatic errand, looking into reports of weird magic on the Wounded Coast, or heading north to provide some assistance to the war effort? All might require pitching a tent and bunking down for the night with your colleague, whether you like them or loathe them.

V. NORMAL NIGHT: If you’re already sharing a room or bed with someone, you don't need this post. But you can still use it for your nightmare threads.

VI. BETTER IDEA: Do whatever you want. Live your dreams.

Comments

[favoriteanalyst]

He can maybe discern the general gist of what that means, sure, but he blinks slowly at her for a moment trying to parse the specifics of-- "What's a water gun?"

[notathreat]

"A gun is like a cannon that you carry in your hand. You aim and pull a trigger, and it shoots whatever you're aiming at."

Ellie shifts, pulls her sketchbook out of her bag, flips through a few of the pages to show him a charcoal sketch. It's an older man with a ponytail and a beard, kind eyes, wearing a style of clothes completely unfamiliar to Thedas.

One of his eyes is a little blurred, like she sketched it over and over and couldn't quite decide how she wanted to draw it.

He's holding a hunting rifle casually in one arm.

"Here's one. Water guns are shorter, though. And they just squirt water, not bullets."

[favoriteanalyst]

She doesn't wince or flinch, doesn't blow out any huff of air, doesn't give any kind of 'oh right I forgot' laugh. Just goes right into explaining, flips right to the page she wants to show. So she's done this, understandably.

She's got a whole sketchbook. Drawings and a few little notes. He leans over the pages, fascinated not just by the idea of a gun, but by this tidbit about her.

"I've heard qunari have something like that, but I've never seen." The one in the drawing is long, narrow. He thinks he sees how you'd hold it, the thicker end up against you, put it up to your eye? "It's kind of like a crossbow, right? But with something other than arrows." He's never learned bows or crossbows himself, but he's certainly familiar with the concept. "And one that shoots water would certainly be useful for putting out a candle from a distance."

You know, normal stuff you'd use it for.

His fingers trace around the edges of the pages, never venturing onto the drawing surface. "This is good. You sing, your play music, you draw--anything you can't do?"

[notathreat]

"It's... like a kid's toy. Not that I'd say no if someone found a super soaker here. Some of the people here could really do with an ambush or two."

Her cheeks settle into something a little pink, and she rubs the back of her neck.

"Keep my head down and my mouth shut?"

You have got to stop letting people rile you up.

"What I'm told, in general?"

Ellie shrugs a little, tilting her head to one side. She's got a sense of humor about it, but it's obvious that she's not all that used to open praise, and doesn't know what to do with it.

[favoriteanalyst]

"Take a compliment," he notes with a smirk. Who would he be if he didn't do a little bit of ribbing?

"Do you draw from memory? Or from observation?" Because either this is an old sketch, or she's got a strong mental eye. Or...it's both. No reason it can't be both.

[notathreat]

Ellie wrinkles her nose, scrunching her freckles, but reaches out to shove him lightly with her forearm. Yeah, yeah.

But the warmth comes back to her eyes as Mobius asks about the drawings, and she nods.

"Both. S'better if I've drawn somebody before, then I don't have to fuck up the eyes a thousand times." Ellie touches the edge of the page, turns it.

Mobius might recognize a few people. Members of Riftwatch, caught in casual, everyday poses. Fenris sitting on a fence post, near the stables. His arms are loose and comfortable, his expression curious. Ellis taking a rest in his practice armor near the sparring area, squinting against the sunlight as he watches the others train. Cosima, having a drink, laughing even with a thoughtful pinch in between her eyes.

Others, but they're all like this.

"It was something to do during the wintertime, when we got snowed in back home," she says with a shrug.

[favoriteanalyst]

"You could do portraits," he says with some genuine awe. As a way to make money, or as extremely touching gifts. Lockets with the visage of a loved one. It's clear she's been doing this for years, and even if it's something casual, it's real effort and real talent.

She's not forces, but he knows that she's good in a fight. You have to be, to survive in a world like hers. And it seems like a shame. "Have you ever considered..." It's delicate, the way he wants to put it, because he knows it won't be taken well, but he still wants to voice it anyway. "Doing this more as a job?"

It would be safer. But he imagines that she would feel useless if she couldn't get out there and do other things she's perfectly good at.

[notathreat]

"I did, for Satinalia." Ellie's thoughtful as she says it, and her eyes don't show any surprise at his suggestion. It's one that's been made before. She thinks her drawings and paintings are good, but she's seen things far better. She resists the urge to dismiss it outright.

"... maybe. Someday. If I can wrap my head around it."

Ellie made art, even in her worst moments. Perhaps even more, then. Even out at the farm, she sketched beautiful landscapes, rolling hills, lonely trees. The aftermath of her own panic, the way she saw it in her head.

And one time, a man on a porch with a guitar.

"There was another reality I spent some time in," she says hesitantly, because she always sounds crazy when she says this; "Where if you committed a crime, you got thrown into something called the Quarry. If you managed to be the last one standing, you basically became a celebrity overnight. Cashing in on that fame was one way to stay alive. So I brought my guitar and sang at all the fancy, rich-people parties. The Cardinals made Orlais look tacky.

"If I ever do something like that again, I don't want it to feel like that."

[favoriteanalyst]

"Well, hey," he says with a nudge of his arm to hers, "nothing wrong with Satinalia gift ideas. Maybe I'll have to get you some fancy pastels straight from Orlais." He won't, because holy shit that would be expensive. But a fresh stack of parchment might be in order, depending on if that's also still extremely expensive to procure by the time the holiday comes around.

The other story is...wild. She had mentioned before about having been somewhere else even before Thedas, but the details were sparse. Ellie has not retired from violence, this he knows, but the idea of being 'the last one standing' and then to become a minstrel instead of, say, a gladiator? Or a politician? It's impressive.

"Far as I know, only the hoitiest of toities, the creamiest of the crop, get a gaggle of chittering followers for their art. If you don't want to play for a marbled house of gussied up Orlesians, the nice thing is you don't have to. If you don't want to be told what to draw, boom, freedom of choice. Fame is something that's hard to achieve. And frankly? Pretty sure as long as you're with Riftwatch, you'll never be that kind of famous." Said with a smirk. They do good work here. But there are still a lot of people that only just barely tolerate their existence at best.

[notathreat]

"Sh'yeah, and it'll cost you half a year's stipend." Ellie rolls her eyes with a smile; she knows exactly how much those fancy pastels cost. She's looked. She's going to have to get in with the nobles around here, do some favors, like she did for a few bolts of silk cloth a while back.

Ellie shrugs a little bit, considering.

She was protected, in order to pursue her art. Nathan became that career gladiator with the sparkling smile. Sam became a bet runner, finessing everyone into buying in, and it was through them that Ellie gained smaller, reliable contacts that asked little of her other than her appearance at their events. She was able to stay out of danger while Nathan and Wade took turns collecting scars in the Quarry. It was carefully cultivated, and now that she's an adult, she understands how lucky she was.

"There'll be plenty of time after the war to figure things out, assuming I don't bite it before then."

The last is said with a laugh in her voice, an old attitude forged in an apocalypse. May they all die of old age.

[favoriteanalyst]

"After the war," he murmurs, musing on the subject. What does the end look like? Slay Corypheus, a dragon, a bunch of venatori. And then what? And then you deal with the mage war, finally. It never officially ended, even if a very large explosion put a halt to most open hostilities. And then when that's done? There will be another war, likely.

One thing at a time. Focus on ending this war, before the whole of Thedas ends up in flames, covered in red lyrium.

"I'll drink to that. Later tonight."

[notathreat]

"Later tonight," Ellie agrees, reaching out to tap her cup against Mobius's cup, like a toast, or a promise.

For now, she's got a blanket and a friend.