(OPEN) you've been feeling smaller, take a different number

[sprent]

WHO: Gela & YOU
WHAT: Arriving, in a rush
WHEN: Early Solace
WHERE: Gallows
NOTES: No warnings so far, will update as needed!


ARRIVAL

The night she arrives is weatherish and especially dark, what with the moon concealed away behind a thick measure of cloud. The spell might have passed but Gela's coat has long since given up pretending to be waterproof; while it isn't particularly cold out, waterlogged socks are ruining her boots. It's not the worst night she's ever walked through by far but, well. It's up there.

And the Gallows, to her, look... closed.

Oh, no. That can't be right.

There is an hatched iron gate across the entrance, and Gela curls her hands around the metal, squinting through the rain and gloom for anybody on the other side. A quick glance over her shoulder confirms: the ferry has already turned around to complete its last leg for the night. There should be somebody there, if a watch is aware of the schedule...

"Helloooo?" She calls, loud as she can. Hopefully somebody nearby is on post, or near enough to it.

GALLOWS

Despite trying her level best to blend in with her new surroundings, there are, inevitably, moments she sticks out like a sore thumb.

The dining hall early in the morning is mostly empty and it's where Gela chooses to eat her breakfast like a starving person, shoveling spoonfuls. The mug of hot water beside her could be mistaken for a vase as she's shoved in various kinds of leaves still on the twig; she alternates between inhaling her food and taking ample time to surreptitiously watch every single person who passes through the dining hall on their way elsewhere.

And oh, aren't communal baths a sight. Gela thinks this might become her favourite place in time, and spends her first evening visit either up to her neck in the warm, or sitting on the edge of the baths with her bare legs making slow kicks under the surface. She's away by miles with eyes half-lidded, contemplative. When her hair is gathered and tied back, the jagged notch missing out of her ear is visible, as is the deep trench of a scar across her neck.

And no matter how 'with it' you try to appear, in a place so big, it can be hard to know where to start. Such a moment has befallen Gela, shamefully reduced to catching the attention of somebody passing through the courtyard to ask, "Pardon, 'scuse me, a moment– could you point me in the right direction? I'm lookin' for the diplomacy office. Can't work out which tower to be in."

Her smile is wide-eyed; she's out of breath. She may have been up one of the towers already.

NETWORK

A voice curls over the crystals in the early hours of morning, soft and sleepless. "Any charms available for a wretched night?"