faderift | fast enough to get in trouble and not fast enough to get away

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fast enough to get in trouble and not fast enough to get away

WHO: Mobius, whoever has business with him
WHAT: open-y log for mobi during fantasy september (and like late fantasy august too if need be), for various catchup purposes
WHEN: both pre- and post-arlathan forest
WHERE: [makes a general motion to kirkwall] Around
NOTES: warnings will be in subject lines if/when need be!

Before the mission to the forest, Mobius still has plenty to deal with. After the Conclave, the 'secret' of his life being a(n ex-)Templar does not stay quiet for long. It isn't something he ever addresses publicly; he's not taken to speaking on rumors just because they exist. But if someone comes to find him about it directly, he might actually be willing to talk to them about it.

So long as it isn't someone interrogating him under some ridiculous pretense of the good of Riftwatch.

But that isn't the only thing to deal with. Sylvie and Loki are both gone, wherever and however Rifters go. Sylvie takes a little more time to notice, but given her absence on the training grounds and around her usual library haunts where she, catlike, likes to cause him some trouble, it doesn't take too long. Loki--of course he noticed Loki being gone right away. Given they had finally started to see each other, at least sexually, and Mobius trying to get used to the idea of sleeping with someone and staying, in their bed, together, instead of leaving immediately after. Not every night; he was hardly about to move into Loki's-which-was-Alexandrie's place. But often enough.

So when he awoke in Loki's bed one morning to the conspicuous absence of Loki, well. That took a much shorter amount of time to figure out.

It stings.

After the mission to the forest, Mobius returns worse for wear. Like a lot of other people, in fact. He is in various states of burnt and bruised and battered. He'll heal as surely as anything else, with time and patience. But.

He has very apparently lost some kind of use of his hands.

The fingers still bend and curl. His fists can still form. Can still point, can still count on them, or give a thumbs up. But on the training grounds, his sword has a habit of slipping from his grip as though there's no grip at all. When jotting notes down, he's snapped more than a few quills and has taken to putting up with writing with the nubs where the tip remains. Meals have become fraught affairs, where he is slow and careful with utensils--and finger foods don't always fare much better. He can be seen, when not spilling half of a meal, grabbing at bowls or cups that he is warned are too hot to the touch and not minding at all. There's not much yet that seems too cold, but no temperature seems to bother his hands at all.

He tries to eat during off hours, or to take things somewhere a little more private. His training sessions have shifted to earlier in the morning (which, given the habits of nightmares, is not much of an inconvenience) when there are even fewer people. But it isn't as though he can hide the way he sometimes grips things too tight, or too loose to drop. He hasn't yet taken to wearing gloves, so one might be able to catch nicks and cuts and scrapes and a few angry red marks.

He's fine, basically. Definitely fine. Others have had it worse.

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[The long silence between Abby asking the question and Mobius forming an answer is likely not going to go over well. But he has to sit there with it for several long moments. Clearing his throat.]

Not here. That I know of. If he's gone somewhere, he...never said.

(She doesn't need him to answer to get it. The silence speaks for itself.

For a long time she doesn't know what to say in return. The two of them sit in that air, and all Abby can hear is the soft sound of them both breathing, and Mobius shifting in place. She rubs at the corner of her neck, and closes her eyes tight.)

Oh.

(What else do you say? Maybe he got to go back. She sniffs.) Okay.

...I don't know what it looks like. When a Rifter leaves. This is--new, to me.

[How had it happened? Had he simply faded away, as though returning to the Fade? Mobius doesn't know. He'd been fast asleep and not even bothered to waking by nightmares.]

Sylvie doesn't seem to be around, either.

(Abby exhales, and curls around the crystal in her lap. She fits her chin into her palm. At least Mobius can't see her thumb away a few tears.)

Yeah. I tried you when she didn't answer.

(It feels like she only ever hears about these things after the fact, never in the moment. Holden went in much the same way. She sniffs again, wetly, and clears her throat.) Okay. I– (It occurs to her to ask,) Are you okay?

[Is he okay? Somehow he didn't think she'd ask. Or that most anyone would ask. It would be easy to brush it off. But it wouldn't be honest.]

Not really. [Does she need the details of why, though? It's probably enough that he was friends with them at least.] And the fact that there's nothing to do about it except to accept it and move on doesn't help.

(Abby feels that sentence like a stone dropping into her stomach, heavy and cold. She wipes her nose against her arm and says,) You don't have to do that.

(Accepting it? Yeah. Unfortunately, yeah. Abby is used to it, but god, it's still so hard. But this isn't like being at home, and she isn't who she used to be.) There's time. You don't have to get over it, Mobius, you can take your time.

[It's a lot to grapple with, because what does it mean when a holy chosen herald of Andraste herself is sent away? Did they do all they were meant to? Or did she decide that they were perhaps not the best choice for right now? Had Loki become too sad, too despondent, to do what he was sent here to do? Was Sylvie too angry and alone? Andraste is a prophetess and the Maker's bride, but she is also human and prone to mistake.

Or maybe he's wrong and crazy and it's just a fluke of the universe.]

Feels more and more like there isn't time.

(Abby falls silent at that. She feels the opposite. Without any immediate threat looming over her shoulder, there's too much time. All she can do is sit in her feelings and she's already tired of turning thoughts over and over like wet river stones in her palms, gauging every weight.)

... I have time. If you need somebody.

(It's not an altruistic offer. She wishes it was, but she needs people too.)

[There is only so much time for him. He is...keenly aware. He's already lived longer than someone like him perhaps should have. Riftwatch might kill him. Or, perhaps he'll live to a ripe old age, but eventually his mind will leave him, and he'll have run out of time long before his body gives out.

People have left, and people have died, and these are things that are not new in his life. That it hurts so deep and so suddenly catches him off guard.

But others are still here.]

Do you need somebody?

[He thinks Loki and Abby had a not dissimilar kind of relationship he has with Ellie. Friendship, yes. But also something not too far off from being a little paternal.]

Do we both need somebody right about now?

(The question catches her by surprise. Before she can think too much about it and say something that she doesn't mean simply to save face, she musters to tell the truth.) Uh, (Her voice cracks across the word.) Yeah. (She does. She really does, she can't be alone with these new, old memories. It's too much for one person to bear.

Whether or not she'll talk to him about that remains to be seen, but the company will help; Abby wants to help. She wants to make sure that Mobius is okay.)

... Kinda sounds like it, huh. (It's silly. The two of them sitting here in silence, on opposite ends of the crystal, missing the same person. Abby rocks in place, sits up. She wipes her eyes, pinching off tears between thumb and forefinger. Scoops her crystal up from the bed to ask,) Where do I find you?

I think I need out of the library. Let's not meet there. [There's a tiredness to his words, a muting of his normal chipperness (or approximation thereof).] You up for a midnight snack, see what kinda trouble we can get up to in the kitchen and the mess?

Okay. (She's more than happy with that suggestion; Ellie hangs around the library. Abby is not going to be able to avoid her forever, but for now, if she can, she would like to. The thought of her makes her stomach twist up into knots. Really, it should come secondary to everything else that is going on right now.)

Meet you there?

The kitchens are very empty at this small hour of the night; it's almost odd not to see Jude the moment she pushes the door open with her fingertips. Abby doesn't think she'd find it surprising if he were curled up on the stone floor, wolf-formed, asleep.

She waits for Mobius to get there. Sort of. She actually finds an off-cut of bread first, wrapped up in brown paper, put aside for the next meal that needs it. He'll find her sitting up on a counter and plucking the soft inside out of the ring of crust, chewing thoughtfully.

... Midnight snack was actually a great idea. She's happy to sit here, shut her mind off, and jaw on the heel of bread until company arrives.

Mobius isn't much of a cook, so he's not going to fire up the fire and whip something together. When he wanders in, he--actually has a bottle in hand. He has no idea if Abby drinks, but frankly it doesn't occur to him that she wouldn't.

"Peace offering," he says a little weakly, tilting the glass of dark liquor. It's one of the bottles Loki had gotten him as a thank you gift. This one's a heady rum of fine quality. Might as well bust it out for an occasion like this. "Find anything good to snack on lying around?"

Abby takes the bottle from him curiously, uncapping it to sniff the contents. She does drink, typically when she's with other people, and this occasion feels more than somber, and appropriate. "Thanks." She knows where the glasses are. She pours his amount first, and passes it to him silently.

As for the snacks: "I found some bread." That is... long gone, sorry. She ate it. She hops off the counter to look for something else and finds: a few wedges of cheese, and cold slices of ham, a few rounds of old, brown bread. She hands them wordlessly over.

A nod of thanks, both at the glass, and then the food. He's no stranger to sneaking some scraps from the kitchen, back at the tower. One of those things you're technically not supposed to and sure, you'd probably get in some trouble by way of extra duties and chores if you got caught, but everyone does it.

"So." With a bite of bread, drink of rum. "This sucks."

No shit. But he kind of feels like it's at least better than silence.

Abby grunts in acknowledgement, sipping her rum. It's good, but the first swallow has her pulling a face at the burn, and wiping her mouth on the back of her arm. She considers a bit of ham between her thumb and index finger, frowning.

Eventually says, "How long has he been gone?"

How long did it take for her to notice?

"I should have said something," is not an answer to the question, but it comes bursting out of him anyway. To Abby, to Ellie. Fuck, who else was close to Loki? Astarion, surely. Who else? Had he even become all that close with others, others who are still here anyway? "I don't know if there's some kind of...protocol to this."

An announcement on the crystal? A quiet contact of friends? A notice on a board? Are those things that are done?

"A little over a week." The eventual actual answer. Food seems less appetizing all of a sudden. But the drink is still welcome.

Abby's expression sticks, halfway between upset and exasperated. Her mouth twists at one corner. She says, "Nah, it's okay," like a sigh, and puts the ham into her mouth, chewing just to keep herself from having to talk for a moment. She wouldn't have known what to do in his position either.

She nurses the bit of rum in-between her knees, hands curled around the glass. Offhandedly, "Figures. Felt like I was just starting to get through to him."

All that stuff he said under the influence of soup, about not wanting to say anything about himself because he didn't think he deserved comfort, or whatever...

"Yeah? Stubborn piece of shit, but he was always willing to listen." Oh, he knows this well. Loki always trying to understand, even if he was skeptical. "What were you trying to tell him?"

Abby chuckles, she can't help herself. Accurate assessment... if a little pointed. She shrugs a shoulder and says, "That he was one of my people," before she has another sip.

He knew that. She's pretty sure.

"...Yeah. He was definitely having a hard time with sentiment like that. That's what copious amounts of self-hatred can do to you."

But they were both of them making progress. In their own ways.

Yeah. You don't have to explain self-hatred to Abby. She gives Mobius a little look over the top of her glass.

Then she says, casually, "Were you two together?"

Because she had her theories... her little suspicions...

So, alcohol burn, that's all well and good. The burn that comes from choking and sputtering on alcohol, though, that's a particularly nasty feeling. And he's going to be thankful none went up his nose.

Probably gives all the answer she needs right there.

Eventually, when he looks less embarrassing and not choking: "What do you mean by together?"

Because! There are different definitions!

... Okay, be that way. Abby will amend her earlier question for clarity's sake:

"Were you fucking?"

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