[open] and when i wake up you'll be here

[laruetheday]

WHO: Clarisse
WHAT: Arrival + some quarantine stuff
WHEN: Now, ig
WHERE: Ferelden somewhere + the Gallows
NOTES: n/a

Arrival

Weird dreams are a near nightly thing for demigods, so Clarisse doesn't bat an eye when she finds herself waiting for the elevator at the top of the Empire State Building in her basketball uniform, other than to wonder what kind of weird symbolism it is and hope that it's not going to interfere with her midterms. Even when the doors open and she steps in and lands on nothing but empty air, she manages not to scream. It all happens too fast, anyway.

Clarisse only has time to think, oh shit, and then she hits the dirt hard. The breath gets punched out of her chest and she wheezes pitifully, wondering since when her dreams are realistic enough to hurt. She rolls onto her back, wipes at the dirt on her chin, and finds herself staring up at something she can't comprehend, much less identify. The air looks... torn open, and through the jagged green split, she can see patches of concrete and red rocks.

The view is interrupted by something moving—something humanoid but elongated, with a grin that spreads too far in each direction. That's comprehendible. She's not sure what she's looking at, specifically, but she knows bad news when she sees it. Clarisse pushes off the ground at a run, angling herself away from the whatever-the-fuck-that-thing-is and trying to put some distance between her and it.

Quarantine - Dining Hall

At least the food here looks... pretty normal. She should be thankful for that.

Clarisse is in the dining hall, sitting straight backed and uncomfortable and pushing a piece of beef (probably?) around with a fork. She looks a little bit miserable, but what else is new? Push, push, push. The fork never seems to actually make it to her mouth.

Finally, she can't stand it anymore, and says to whoever's nearby: "Is there a place around here I can make an offering?"

Quarantine - Training Yard

Maybe she'd been slacking off on training a little bit, before she'd fallen out of the fucking sky, but that's over. If anything, the practice gives Clarisse a sense of familiarity, even while she's stuck in a place that's the complete opposite. She knows the moves. She's done them almost every day, for years. Doesn't matter where she is.

For anyone who happens to walk by and see her, it's clear that Clarisse is no beginner with the spear. She handles it with practiced ease, and it seems like she'd have no problem showing anybody else what it's like to be on the other end of Maimer's barbed tip. But when she does notice somebody watching, Clarisse only gives them a terse nod.

"You waiting for the space?"

Comments

Arrival

[foolsmakeitcolder]

It hasn't been so long since Jude himself hurtled out of a Rift, wearing fur and fangs and claws, chased by demons. It's not an experience he particularly wants to repeat, but getting others out of that situation is worth going back.

So when Clarisse falls out of that Rift and helpfully gets herself out of the way, she'll be face to face with a Giant Fuckoff Wolf with uncanny yellow eyes and bared teeth.

He lifts his head and howls, the kind of sound that creeps under the skin and carries for miles, and charges the thing with singleminded and intelligent purpose.

And he's not alone, either -- there are others with them, closing ranks to fight back and protect her.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse almost freezes at the sight of the huge wolf in front of her, its teeth bared. But, look, her choices are between that and whatever the fuck is behind her right now, so she’s pretty sure she’s better off with the wolf. Even if it is massive.

Anyway, it doesn’t seem to be too interested in her. It’s going for the monster. She can appreciate that. The enemy of my enemy, or whatever. And whatever that thing is, she wants it dead.

Clarisse reaches up, expecting to feel her spear, but her hand touches nothing but air. It was with her just before she fell, she knows it was, but it seems like everything that she wasn’t wearing has fallen through the hole in the sky with her and spread scattered in the grass.

“Gonna need you guys to keep that thing busy for a minute,” she calls—she’s not sure if the wolf can understand her, but it’s better not to assume it can’t—and takes off to find her spear and sword in the grass, whispering “what the fuck, what the fuck” as she goes.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

"Can do-" someone calls back, and the wolf gives a quick snarl that sounds remarkably like an affirmative before he barrels into the even bigger demon, snapping at his heels, coming into range before dodging out -- the same way one would hunt in the wild, by pissing it off and tiring it out.

Every time it lunges after the wolf, it gets a slash to the face for its trouble, or an arrow finding purchase in its hide.

It happens to catch Jude broadside, and he lets out a yelp before he can help himself, hitting the grass and going rolling back to his feet. His leg shudders once before he corrects for what's sure to be a giant bruise, and then he gets to his feet.

Unfortunately, the demon's spotted the frantic young woman in the grass, and the earth shakes with every step as it comes towards her, bearing down with frightening speed.

[laruetheday]

This is the part where someone else might lose their control, reacting out of panicked instinct, and end up getting themselves or somebody else killed. For Clarisse, the opposite happens. Time seems to almost slow down, and she feels... ready. This is what she's been born for, after all.

She can hear the demon coming up behind her, fast, and at the same time she spots her spear lying half-hidden in the grass. She crosses the few remaining feet at a run, grabs the spear in her right hand, and turns on her heel just in time to jab it at an upward angle into the thing's body. Clarisse feels the impact vibrate all the way through her arms, and a savage grin erupts on her face.

Not like one good stab's gonna be enough to kill this. But it's a good start.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

A fierce pup.

She's not his, but Jude feels the pleasure and pride of it all the way down.

The demon lurches, screams a horrible, rending sound across the makeshift battlefield, and takes a heavy swipe at her with one of its massive hands.

Jude, already en route for the thing's throat, hits like a shadowy blur. It's bent down, so he slams into the side of the thing's throat, fastens his jaws around it with sharp, crushing force, and rips.

Horrible-tasting blood rains down on the both of them, and the demon gives a garbled roar, struggling.

Things like this are never more dangerous than when they're desperate. Jude presses his powerful back legs in and drags, something that would gut anything with a softer belly.

It's not enough, but it's a good opening.

dining hall.

[cozen]

Nearby: Bastien, who had been embroiled in a quiet conversation about peasant unrest in Orlais at the other end of the table when Clarisse first sat down. The other side of that conversation has just gathered up their things and departed, and Bastien was already shooting interested glances at the newcomer, trying to gauge whether or not she would like to be bothered.

So when she talks, he doesn't hesitate to slide down the bench a foot or two, dragging his food with him, so he's sitting somewhere closer to (but not quite) directly across from her.

He's neatly dressed; his hair was clearly neat sometime earlier in the day, too, but the heat and humidity of a coastal city in mid-summer have pushed pieces out of place. His smile is friendly. His accent is thickly Orlesian—or not-local, at least, to someone who might not know what Orlais is yet.

"An offering?"

[laruetheday]

The accent isn't French, but it's close enough to make Clarisse miss her mother a little bit, which is a feeling she doesn't like. Gross, what is she, ten? (Maybe someone else would tell her that being stuck in a completely new universe is a huge change, that missing people is normal, and that she should give herself a break. Clarisse just frowns and moves on as best she can.)

"Yeah," she says, forgoing much of her usual bad attitude, because the guy who moved to sit near her seems friendly enough so far. "Like if I were to make an offering of food... to the gods. Could I do that here?"

It's not like she can't eat without doing that, but this seems like a situation that calls for as many offerings as humanly possible. Maybe if she does enough, her dad will take pity on her and send her back to Arizona, or at least America somewhere.

twaining yard

[armd]

"Nah." Abby waves her off and then she looks twice, and realises it's that girl from the pier. The one who was carving the thing into the post, the Medusa head. She says, "Hey." And, "You're good with that spear."

She was watching while she walked over- to use the space, sure, but. She gestures with her chin, and grins. "Need something moving to try and hit?"

Call her curious! Besides, her shard just learned a new trick...

do you wanna... spar w me 👉👈

[laruetheday]

Clarisse takes the compliment with a little nod and a half-smile that wants to be a smirk so badly. She knows she's good. Also, she would love to practice with somebody else, but she's worried that she'll hit Abby and start some kind of diplomatic... thing. Maybe end up on trial.

The people here can be really weird, so sue her.

"Um," she says, and after another moment, "The tip is electric? I can't turn it off. But yeah, if you're up for it."

Look, it wouldn't kill her or anything.

yea :)

[armd]

"Just the tip?" Hahhahahah, "I don't mind." Honestly, she's morbidly curious about it. Is that weird? Obviously it wouldn't kill her to get hit by it, otherwise Clarisse wouldn't be letting her hop in the ring, so... yeah. She wants to know how bad it feels, sue her.

First things first though, "How the hell did you get an electric fucking spear through the rift? My gun got here broken."

okay ☺️

[laruetheday]

Clarisse snorts and rolls her eyes at Abby’s dumb quip. Like she’s never heard that one before. Just The Tip was one of the Ares cabin’s favorite nicknames for her spear, after Lamer.

“I’m the wrong person to be asking how things work around here,” she says in answer to Abby’s question. “Maybe because it’s magic.” Presumably, the gun wasn’t.

Anyway, it’s a good thing for everyone that Maimer came through undamaged. She’s already had to replace it twice, she doubts she could do it again here, and Clarisse is already pissy enough without adding in a broken magic weapon.

[armd]

Oh. "Maybe." Nah, that's probably it. Magic from other places seems to get here more or less intact, though a hard and fast rule set for the rifts doesn't seem to actually exist, and Abby should know that by now anyway.

She vaults the low fence to get into the yard, and figures she'd better disclose that, "I can shoot magic out of this thing now," i.e the shard in her palm, held out. She's not wearing a glove over it, even though she usually does. "D'you mind if I use that as my weapon?"

Currently, it produces an jolt of energy that won't hurt too much if it connects, so. It feels like it could be an even fight.

dining hall

[staysail]

Darras, walking past and carrying two full bowls, slows his pace. This is half out of polite acknowledgement that someone is speaking to him, and half because it's easier to peer dubiously down at the contents of the bowl if he isn't also walking.

"Surely the food isn't that good." Or, well. Fairly: "Or that bad. Either way, don't think you can trade, I'm sorry to say."

[laruetheday]

"It's not about the food." She's sure the food is fine. She hopes it is, anyway, because sending up an offering of something less than fine is a good way to get turned into a shrub or a snail or something.

"I don't want to trade," she continues. "I just want to burn a piece before I eat the rest. As an offering to the gods where I'm from." The last three words leave a bitter taste in her mouth, but she tries making sure her face doesn't show it.

[staysail]

"Oh. Right."

A Rifter. Giving big dad-who-doesn't-know-what-to-do-with-this-information-and-situation, Darras looks one way, and then the other. Unfortunately there's no one around with the sort of authority or knowledge to help.

"Not the chapel," he says, thinking aloud. "I don't know how many devoted Andrastians we've got, but if we have any, they wouldn't be too keen on that. We're between Seneschals at the moment so you might get away with burning something in here, but--nah," he decides, "not very sacred. Courtyard, maybe? Outside seems good. Or maybe that's just tradition here. Inside or outside is better where, ah, you're from?"

[laruetheday]

This, at least, she's got a definitive answer for. "Outside." Like, she could do this anywhere, but... smoke.

Okay, so, courtyard it is. Clarisse stands, holding her plate in one hand, mumbles "Thanks," and turns to go. Then she pauses and turns back. "What's a Seneschal? And do you have a lighter?"

Shit, this is turning into a real annoyance. She'll either need to give up on ritual sacrifice or she'll need to figure out a better way to do this. Another time, when she isn't already hungry.

[staysail]

Darras again looks down at the bowls he's holding, both of which are not very heavy. A lighter what?

"A Seneschal's a steward. Runs the operational bits of an outfit, makes sure everyone's got what they need, keeps track of supplies and stores, that sort of thing. It's a stupid word," he admits, candidly. "Pretty sure it's Orlesian. Riftwatch had one and I think he cracked--then we had another, and I think his blood was too rich to mingle with us for too long. Or that's the impression I got, at least. You're needing something to start your fire with?"

--Hazarding a guess. He sets the bowls down on the table and jerks his head toward the door. "We'll grab a tinderbox on the way out."

Wildcard

[notathreat]

The stables are out in Kirkwall proper, in the old Qunari compound, so not quite interconnected with the city. One short boat ride away from the Gallows. But Ellie spends a lot of time there just the same.

Even if the horses and other mounts aren't nearly as exciting as griffons, they still deserve some care, and if Ellie gets to peek at the barn cat's new bunch of kittens, that's a bonus.

She's cleaning out the hooves of one of the horses when she hears someone come in.

There's a snapping noise, Ellie curses, and the horse pulls her hoof out of her hands, stomps it on the floor, narrowly missing the edge of Ellie's boot.

"I know you're tender," she says, reaching for patience even though exasperation creeps in at the edges of her voice. "I'm trying to help get the rock out from under your shoe. Stop trying to stomp my toes."

Grumbling, she peeks over the back of the mare, spots Clarisse.

"Can you grab me one of hoof picks? This one's done."

[laruetheday]

Getting to the stables takes a bit of effort, but it's worth it. It's a little bit of familiarity, in a place where she feels (and has been told, repeatedly) that she's an outsider. Stables pretty much all look and smell the same no matter which universe you're in, apparently. Clarisse can feel herself relaxing the slightest bit, getting almost comfortable for the first time in days.

Then Ellie has the audacity to speak to her. Clarisse had known someone else was in here, but she'd assumed they would ignore each other aside from maybe sharing an awkward nod or something. Still, she grabs the hoof pick and passes it off to Ellie, and then (since she's practically been invited to) leans up against the stall door to watch for a minute.

"She looks pissed," is her very helpful contribution to the conversation. "Careful she doesn't kick your face in."

[notathreat]

Ellie takes the pick with her bad hand, rubbing the other along the mare's flanks. She's shuddering her coat irritably, lifting her hoof like she wants to stamp again.

"You serious?" Ellie asks, asking for the mare's hoof again by running her hand down her leg, giving a tug. Denied. She butts her shoulder against the mare's side, insisting. No dice.

"Are you heckling me?"

[laruetheday]

"You asking me or the horse?" Yeah, she's heckling.

Clarisse walks closer and lifts a hand for the horse to sniff, butting its velvet soft nose against her palm. It's been a while since she made it a point to spend time in a stable, but she remembers the easy routine of it, the way she and Silena used to hang out and talk while they did barn chores, with sunlight and dust motes drifting in the air. Good memories. "Is she yours?"

tumbleweed wildcard

[sprent]

The Gallows missing the bulk of Riftwatch is empty, boring; what's a woman exiled from Cumberland to do with herself when the rest go charging off there on griffon back, anyway? Without anybody that she's already met around Gela's forced to scrabble for small talk with people who don't have time for her. Maker it's lonely, being new. She's never forgotten that feeling but it doesn't make experiencing it any easier.

Getting first in at dinner time is easier though. Gela posts up at her bench alone, surreptitiously feeding fatty bits of her meat to Noose, who is occupying the space below her bench quietly save for the good-natured thump of tail on stone.

To Clarisse, the only other person sitting within range of a good smile, Gela raises her cup of water. "Steady. Want to join us?"

Noose is not currently visible underneath the table.

[laruetheday]

Back at home, Clarisse had never needed to know how to respond to somebody asking her to sit with them for dinner. It had genuinely never been an issue, and in fact there was a pretty strict rule against sitting at any of the other tables, so she sat in the same spot with the same people for years. All this to say that when Gela asks her if she wants to join, Clarisse looks up with a confused expression on her face, looks left, looks right, looks at Gela again.

"Me?"

[sprent]

Gela feels a tiny tug at the heart strings in response, oh, aw, and nods enthusiastically, "Yes, you. What, are you spoken for?"

By who... is the joke, as it's very subdued in here. To emphasise her point, she slaps the spot of table across from her, clearly gesturing for Clarisse to sit. Noose, making sure he has not been forgotten, starts to lick her palm to get the grease off and it twists Gela's expression instantly, loosing a snicker.

[laruetheday]

“Uh, no.”

But the woman just slapped the table, and almost like she’s been ordered to, Clarisse stands and moves herself and her food over to the spot across from Gela.

Oh, there’s a dog under there. She’s weirdly thankful that dogs exist in this universe. They tend to like her, and they’re a familiar touchstone for her. Not even thinking about it, she reaches over to give Noose a scratch behind the ears.

“This your dog?”