faderift | open.

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: Late night evacuation drill
WHEN: Early Harvestmere, don't think about it too hard
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: See OOC note below.

Lashes of rain batter at unyielding fortress walls. It is dark, quiet, and peaceful save for all the rolling thunder summoned from over the sea. It is a good evening to be warm in bed.

Until it isn't a couple of those things.

Wherever you are sleeping (or working) late at night in the Gallows, you will hear it: an incessant and noisy bell ringing, handheld, clanging and clanging loud and obnoxious from the top of each tower and downwards, lingering in the key residential halls until there is sign of people emerging from their rooms. Gwenaëlle has been assigned to harass the Central Tower, while Abby takes the Mage Tower and Matthias is assigned the Templar Tower. Even if you happen not to be in either of these places, the muffled cacophony of bells is liable to still reach you.

It may take a second to realise what's happening, and how real this emergency is, but in the past week, all will have received some suspiciously timed updates as to evacuation procedures, including the protocols surrounding what to do when the instruction is to shelter in place (because they do, after all, live in a fortress).

The first step is moving without hesitation when the warning bells ring out loud. The next is to descend the towers, down dim stairwells lit by lyrium glow, in as orderly a fashion as possible. From there, it's a matter off finding the correct subterranean chamber (tonight, indicated with lamplight) and waiting it out.

At least, this route does not take them outside.

In the basement chamber will be Edgard and Marcus, the former equipped with a medieval clipboard and the latter marking the time in his head as people enter, while semi-supervising the other man's work and guarding the exit. The space is large enough to comfortably fit the whole company, although it is also cold, dripping, and musty. There are places to sit, chairs and tables both, and a few blankets if you find yourself underdressed.

And if you attempt to leave too early, you'll be bid to wait it out a little longer to accommodate and cause no disruption or confusion to late comers.

To encourage this, there are a few bottles of wine set aside along with some lukewarm tea. Stay a while.

[ ooc ; feel free to top level at any part of this interaction! I will handwave the cooperation of anyone who doesn't tag in or assume they are out of the Gallows, so don't feel like you have to, but there is also a comment below for anyone who deliberately wants to be on the naughty list of no-shows. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wags springs to his feet the moment the stick flies, and then he's gone, claws scratching over stone, and dirt. Abby makes a face at the thought of having to wipe his paws off before she lets him back up on the bed. It's too late for this. Early, whatever.

"Yeah." Big yawn. "His name is Wagner. But he responds to oi, you as well."

"Wagner sounds like the name of the kid who falls into the chocolate river in Willy Wonka's deathtrap factory," Clarisse says. Dorky name. She would have chosen something like Cujo, or Renegade. (Or Limp Bizkit.)

This time, when Wags brings the stick back, she doesn't pick it up again. Now that Abby's here, it feels sort of like she's handed the dog over to his actual owner and isn't supposed to be playing with him anymore.

Abby, for the life of her, cannot fucking remember the name of the kid who falls into the chocolate river in Willy Wonka. It's not on the tip of her tongue either, it's completely gone. She makes a weird face trying to think, then shrugs, and says, "It's not that. I named him after one of my favourite composers."

(And Gwen said it was butch, so.)

Clarisse doesn't actually need to pick the stick up again. Wags will bring it to her and collapse onto his butt at her feet, staring up at her. Waiting.

Abby, noticing how she didn't get it from him in the first place, says, "If you're done, tell him pas toucher." Leave it. Wags tilts his head slightly at the sound of Abby's voice, but his gaze is on Clarisse. Selective hearing... his specialty.

Clarisse gives Abby a look that's at first surprised, then confused, because what Abby says sounds like French but... isn't French. She doesn't recognize the words, though the sounds of them are familiar to her, and that only makes everything feel weirder.

Then she shrugs, and repeats the command. She nails the accent perfectly, but the whole thing still has her feeling like someone's playing a trick on her.

"Okay?"

The look Clarisse gives her only makes Abby think that she said it wrong. It would be fair to say that her accent is... off somewhat, but when Clarisse copies her, the dog actually drops the stick. Reluctantly. But he still did it!

"Good boy," Abby says immediately, cementing the behaviour, "Good boy, Wags," and he comes to her. He recognises the tone of her voice is all: a treat is imminent, and sure enough, she fishes something out of her pocket for him.

Old bit of bacon.

While he crunches, she flashes a grin at Clarisse. "Cool, right. I'm- still working on the commands thing, but he's usually pretty good." And heavily food motivated. Which helps.

Clarisse just watches Abby for a moment, but then she approaches and crouches down so she can scratch Wags behind the ears. He's a good boy.

"It sounded like French. The same sounds, and the way you hold your tongue." Explain.

He is, and he's very happy to have double the attention.

While he does his little doggy groans at the ear scratches, Abby looks at Clarisse. "Oh," she says suddenly, understanding, "It's Orlesian." She hasn't heard heaps of French before in her life to be able to draw a line between the two, but Clarisse must have. "I got him off a dealer from Orlais, so half the stuff he knows isn't in Trade."

Clarisse snorts. "When I was a kid, I had this neighbor whose dog only understood Spanish, so we'd hear them screaming shit like silencio! and mal perro! every day." Ah... good memories.

She straightens up and brushes her hands on her pants, then tries out a couple basic commands in Actual French, which Wags obviously doesn't follow. She shrugs. "Oh well. Just had to try."

Abby brightens, chuckling. "Yeah, that's pretty much what it's like. I think he's been using my bad accent as an excuse to not listen."

Who, Wags? The dog sitting so nicely, tilting his head back and forth between the two girls? Surely not. And yet...

"Thanks for hanging out with him while I was doing the bell thing."

"This guy? Never." Clarisse has known Wags for fifteen minutes, and she already knows he's probably smarter than he looks... when he wants to be.

"Nah, it's okay. I like dogs." She gives Abby a pointed look, even knowing that the drill wasn't her idea in the first place, and adds, "If I had to be forced up in the middle of the night, at least I got to throw a stick really fucking hard a bunch of times."

"Be glad you bothered," Abby replies, raising an eyebrow, "'Cuz the people who didn't are going on a list."

Ooooooh.

"I'm sure when it's your turn to ring them, you'll make sure it's twice as loud."

Clarisse raises her hands in mock fright. "Oooh, not a list. I'm shaking in my boots."

Pfft. She'd like to see what they'd do to her for not showing up to a stupid evac drill.

"And for the record, I will. Gotta make sure everyone hears it." And she's a dick!

C'mon....... take the list seriously!! The consequences are not going to be harsh, obviously, but you'll probably have to do some really annoying chores. So.

Anyway. "Guess I gotta hope you don't get assigned to my tower."

Clarisse gives her the most annoying smile on the planet. "Well, now I'm going to make sure I do."

Just to bug her!!! Out of friendship.

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