[CLOSED] YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN

[katabasis]

WHO: Gwenaëlle, Loxley, Abby and Derrica
WHAT: Closing a rift
WHEN: Sometime in Harvestmere
WHERE: Rivain
NOTES: OOC info is available here. Add warnings in your subject lines if applicable.

Cutting across Rialto Bay proves to be less dramatic than feared by the crew of the Amberdine, the fleet little trade ship who had agreed to convey the four Riftwatchers to Rialto in exchange for added firepower. Despite tales of cutthroat pirate activity in the Bay, the Amberdine and her cargo of wool, furs and wood makes the crossing unmolested.

Bound for the bustling harbor of Dairsmuid, the ship makes a brief stop south of there to see Gwenaëlle, Loxley, Abby and Derrica ferried ashore. The agreement is that they will see the rift in Sanavo dealt with, and then travel north to rejoin the Amberdine in Dairsmuid a week hence. All together, with a new cargo of tea and sugar, they will make the allegedly risky sprint south again.

But in the meantime: Sanavo, a quiet village tucked in along the coast. It's immediately clear that the pearl harvest must be the only thing that sustains its existence. There are no fields for planting or grazing lands, and little visible evidence of trade that isn't somehow accessory to either pearling or fishing. Clearly, the pearl business must ordinarily be good enough to sustain the few hundred people in residence.

What quickly becomes just as obvious is that, despite the warm welcome by the village council—a trio of women of disparate ages—, the generous accommodations, and the fact that Riftwatch is here to help them, the locals are clearly wary of their guests. Children of the village have been subtly discouraged from interacting with the visitors, a number of doors have been judiciously closed, and in general there is a sense that everyone is keeping a careful eye on the four strangers.

But it's probably nothing to worry about. Maybe once the rift is closed and they have a better sense of who they're dealing with, the chilly edge will defrost…

Comments

[charmoffensive]

"I went to Antiva for Riftwatch once,"

conversationally, eye sliding closed.

"Propaganda dissemination. I think we all managed to get rid of our flyers in a single day, and then spent the evening drinking fine wine and dancing. Not to imply we didn't take our tasks seriously—and tomorrow, we'll very seriously close a rift."

Not addressing whether everyone will be angry at them for coming back beautiful and sunkissed, he asks instead, "I'd bet a sovereign that you didn't get very many beach vacations, where you're from."

[armd]

He's right. They're here to do a job and they'll do it. You can't be doing jobs all the time. Abby looks no less tense after this internal realisation, but slowly, so slowly, she tips herself over backward until she hits the sand, legs still propped up.

"Keep the sovereign," she advises, staring up into the endless amount of blue sky over the top of them both, "I don't think anybody would bother betting against you."

But just to humour him, "Sort of my first time."

She should have packed a big, floppy hat.

[charmoffensive]

"Well."

Loxley idles his fingers against the sand, gathering up a handful and absently letting it stream out between his knuckles.

"You might justify it to yourself that we're graciously accepting hospitality of those we wish to impress with our manners as much as our professionalism. If you've a need. Or a very necessary boost to our own morale. If I might be so bold to suggest,"

and he opens his eye again, seeing the tops of her knees pointed at the sky, turning his head enough to see how stiff-backed she is against the sand,

"you seem a little like you could do with relaxation."

[armd]

Abby closes her eyes, grimacing.

"Mmn." That obvious, huh. She admits, "Maybe."

Even the sand passing through Loxley's hand is shhhing her, so Abby brings her hands to her stomach, palms perched at first before they flatten comfortably against her shirt. Then, she breathes in deeply and sighs it out again. She even remembers to unclench her jaw.

... Mumbled, "There. Totally relaxed."

[charmoffensive]

"I'm proud of you."

There's a lapse in talking, then, filled with sea susurrus and whatever other ambient sounds nearby manage to churn in—certainly a deep and conspicuous lack of anything from the nearby village, but there are, you know, birds, and dry beach-side trees that rustle.

"Who should be here?" he asks, after a moment. "You know, assuming your first choice for a beach day companion isn't a colleague."

Because it'd be easy to strike up conversation about work, but Loxley didn't work so hard to set the vibe just to ruin it outright.

[armd]

He couldn't know this about her, but Abby has spent her entire life paying careful attention to her environment; if you don't, you're dead, cut and dry. She's lying flat on her back in the hot sand, sure, but she's listening intently, ready to spring to her feet at a moment's notice.

There's barely a need. Everything around them is very quiet. Just them, breathing. The ocean rolling in and out; it makes her uneasy, and it's a relief when Loxley starts to speak.

The answer to that question is easy. "My friend Lev, from back h- uh, where I came here from." She clears her throat around the stumble. "You?"

[charmoffensive]

The stumble is caught, and he half-smiles, knows a flicker of a temptation to point it out—I know what 'home' means, here—but opts against it.

Which means answering the question. Loxley thinks about it for a moment, sifting through all those remote possibilities. To say Derrica is not quite in the spirit of the thing. Perhaps, neither is Richard, anymore. Either way, the question is, for him, less easy.

"A woman I got to know," he chooses, after a moment. "Kally. We never really had a moment of peace to ourselves, but I imagine it would've been good."

[armd]

"Ohh," Abby says, knowingly. She waggles her eyebrows up at the sky above. "Nice." She imagines that's what normal people living in a normal world do with their spare time: go to the beach for a holiday, take somebody with them, and have a good time. Imagine.

(What does it say about her that the first person she thought of sharing this with is some fourteen-year-old punk who frequently made fun of her for walking "too loudly"...)

She stretches her legs out. "If I had to pick a colleague, I'd pick Glimmer."

kicks the door back in for chill beach times

[charmoffensive]

Waggled brows gets a look tipped her way—please!—but still with an ever-present smile. There is, indeed, a metric fucktonne of abnormality to his very normal answer, but like any rifter might agree, after enough time spent here, the desire to contextualise is negligible.

It's not like Abby has the wrong idea, anyway. There's a twinge of something, unseen—

"Nice," he says, to echo her parlance, and then moves. Not much of a move, just rolling over in place to lay on his front, arms folding up beneath his chin, immediately content beneath the sun blaring down across his back. "Is that for, what, work competency reasons, or beach reasons?"

chortles in southern hemisphere

[armd]

Abby glances over slyly as Loxley flips himself over like a burger on the sand. She's been wanting to get a better look at his horns and now she can do that without being caught instantly... they're impressive. She wonders if he's ever, like, gouged anybody with them. She wonders when she'll stop judging people by their capability of maiming others.

"... For beach reasons," she says, slightly offended, "I am actually trying to relax." C'mon, man. She shuffles around in her spot, pushing her shoulders back. She's inadvertently earthing out a furrow in the sand for herself and it's actually quite comfortable.

She pulls in a big breath, until her cheeks expand, and then lets it go with a fffppfpt sound and admits, "She would be good to have here though, she can teleport."

[charmoffensive]

Gouging would likely come as a lucky strike in the sort of brawl that Loxley avoids at all cost, but a person could lose an eye in the process. There's a slightly silver undertone to rough grey keratin, smoothing out where they meet his skull.

Unbothered by or (more likely) failing to notice stealthy horn peeping, Loxley only chuckles at her admission and the sound that heralded it, a smile that shows a hint of over-long canine tooth.

"Let me see. Colleagues. Discounting anyone already here?" There's a long pause. Sorry Riftwatch. "Ket, probably, though she's moved on. Bastien, if he would leave his terrible boyfriend behind." This is said very lightly, like perhaps he doesn't even mean it. "Or Commander Flint, if I could ply him with alcohol for a good story or two."

[armd]

Well. Abby doesn't know who Ket is, she's currently giving Flint the cold shoulder (he has no idea), and she rather likes Byerly... even though she can tell what Loxley is getting at. He can be annoying when he wants to. He likes to push people and call it teasing.

Anyway, the answer makes her laugh so it's fine really.

Also, she has to ask. But first (because she really has learned from her disastrous encounters with elves, honest) she says, "Can I ask you something about your horns, or would that be rude?"