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Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2022-11-29 07:54 pm

MOD PLOT ↠ HOME FOR RIFTMAS

WHO: Everyone (more or less)
WHAT: Rifter Show & Tell & Steal.
WHEN: Early Wintermarch 9:49 (forward-dated!)
WHERE: The Crossroads and BEYOND.
NOTES: OOC post. Please use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines.



Since Corypheus began opening the Gates, Riftwatch has been noticing pockets of instability in the Crossroads—crumbling platforms, paths newly blocked by rubble or broken bridges, sections where gravity has been shifted and altered in ways unusual even for the Crossroads, with new intrusions of green-tinged rock outcroppings or corners of temple walls. The barriers between the Crossroads, the Fade, and the world are thinning. It's a problem.

But more recently, Riftwatch has been made aware of an ancient artifact known (now; one hopes this isn't its original title) as the Sealing Stone, now in pieces scattered throughout the Crossroads, and the approximate locations of those pieces. If brought together and activated, the Stone may stabilize the barrier between the Crossroads and the other realms and may provide a model Riftwatch could use to reinforce the Veil elsewhere.

So Riftwatch ventures into the Crossroads to retrieve the pieces of the Stone. It's an intensive effort undertaken by large teams, due to the many now-familiar hazards of the Crossroads, the potential for encountering the Venatori that also use the eluvian network, and the need to cover ground as quickly as possible in hopes of finding the artifacts before the Venatori notice the increased Crossroads activity and come join the hunt.

It's not as simple as merely locating the pieces, however. Whenever a group of Riftwatchers get near enough to one of the artifacts, they're alerted first by the triggering of a sort of protection mechanism. In some cases—specifically, on teams without any rifters—spirits suddenly swarm from the metaphorical woodwork in numbers so great and with such hostility that retreat is the only viable option. The spirits chase the teams only as far as necessary to push them away from the artifact's location, then mass into a circling shoal, guarding the spot until they're left alone long enough to decide the risk has passed.

But for groups containing at least one rifter, something with the mechanism goes wrong. Or right, arguably. Rather than being overwhelmed by spirits, they instead find themselves abruptly engulfed by what appears to be a rift, opening suddenly and rapidly large enough to swallow entire masses of people before contracting again to lie in wait like a carnivorous plant for anyone else who comes too close. Those caught in its radius tumble out into what appears to be a new and unfamiliar world–for most. For one or more of the rifters in each group, it will be perfectly familiar.

The first group to encounter this effect will be one including Tony Stark and Stephen Strange, and will drop them and their compatriots straight into midtown traffic. Any groups attempting to travel to the same spot in the Crossroads to investigate the apparent vanishing—whether they have rifters with them or not—will find themselves drawn through the same "rift" almost as soon as they get within sight of the place, before anything can be discerned about their lost fellows. They will likewise emerge into Stark & Strange's United States.

Subsequent groups including other rifters will be seemingly drawn into their companions' worlds by the same effect. In each, Riftwatch will have to navigate local hazards and retrieve a distinctive lyrium-etched artifact, at which point the world will dissolve around them like a dream and they will find themselves back in the Crossroads where they began, in possession of a carved chunk of stone glowing with lyrium runes.

1 ↠ MCU Earth-199999

Alternate-universe Earth, New York and Los Angeles, 2012-2025, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange.

Earth-199999 is very much like contemporary Earth as we know it, featuring the same historic events, same nations, same conventions. For the average person, there is no difference, except that they know magic and aliens and gods and superpowers are all real and have been causing problems for a while now, with NYC as the hub for most of the shenanigans. MCU Earth has also made leaps and bounds in all science fields as compared to real Earth, although these leaps and bounds are not widely accessible, primarily exclusive to private organisations like Stark Industries, mad scientists, and the likes of SHIELD, but can range from interactive three-dimensional holograms through to biotechnology that turns people into supersoldiers.

It's commonplace to see or hear about criminals causing havoc in the streets with superpowers or gadgets, and crime-fighting vigilantes trying to stop them. The Avengers, as the world's first superheroes, became widely-known commercialised celebrities in-universe with merchandise, documentaries, book deals, and memorial murals to the deceased Iron Man.

Special Abilities: Everyone is nerfed to regular human, unless you want a sudden onset of mutant powers. 1 individual themed ability per character; like pyrokinesis, superspeed, superstrength, etc.

Arrival: One main rift opens in the middle of New York City, ejecting our rifters into midtown traffic… except thanks to Strange’s own multiversal mishaps, people in this world will seem astonishingly accustomed to this sight! Bystanders will be startled, but then the rifters will likely be dogged by strangers snapping photos and videos and tweeting about their arrival.

The Fade-constructed timeline will be a little off: the old Avengers tower and its penthouse is still standing and still accessible to Tony, and Strange will also offer up the Sanctum as a sanctuary, and these will be the main mission hubs while the team gets their bearings and tries to locate the artifact. In the meantime: relax, take in the sights, maybe check out a Broadway show, wrangle your new superpowers.

A secondary rift also opens up on Hollywood Boulevard, in case people want to do some helplessly stranded on Earth RP. Tony can very easily find out this has happened and go collect them, with various degrees of efficiency according to what people want out of that OOCly. As this universe will be available to explore for a few IC weeks, people can assume some degree of Stark-provided financial freedom for basics (i.e. clothes and food, burner phones, etc), and they can stay in the Avengers tower and/or the Sanctum.

2 ↠ Shifterverse

Original alternate-universe Earth, Midwest US, 2022, Jude Adjei.

Real-world 2022, but what if Shifters?

Special Abilities: All superpowers are unfortunately nerfed. However, everyone's a Shifter now. Your choice of animal. Enjoy.

Arrival: Everyone will arrive in Yellowstone National Park, which is wholly staffed and operated by Jude's pack, but... not in an area where tourists are routinely and happily welcomed. Welcome to the deep woods and canyons and plains, where Jude's pack has built their den for some several hundred people. Characters will immediately be found by scouts in fur and feathers, who will be guarded and curious, but not hostile. The wolves and ravens will greet the interlopers as equals, and if they aren't offered any violence, they'll be treated as guests. Hundreds of pack members live in a mixture of hand-built cabin homes and meeting places, portable tiny houses and various shared spaces. There is wifi, a greenhouse, lots of tasty food and warm clothing to wear. If they stay several days and prove themselves trustworthy, they might even start to see children out and about, and there's nothing cuter than a toddler who can become a wolf pup at will. (Mind the raven toddlers and the bear cubs. They're less cute.)

3 ↠ Tassia

D&D Original World, Loxley & Richard Dickerson

Tassia is an original Dungeons&Dragons inspired world, a single continent divided into four nations that is otherwise completely isolated from any other possible world beyond it. These nations are Lloryndell, Sylvica, Ifrin, and Promias, and at its centre lies the Cruxal, a university-city of diverse cultural influence.

While Tassia resembles Thedas in its day-to-day technology levels, including its anachronisms, it is more heavily laden with fantastical elements. Along with humans, elves, and dwarves, there are goblins, dragonborn, tritons, tieflings, sentient robots, bird people, centaurs, and more (https://www.dndbeyond.com/races) (but no qunari). There are many different kinds of magic users who wield their powers openly. There are shops full of magic items, potions, and spell scrolls. There are monsters of countless kinds that lurk just about everywhere. Most cultures in the material plane are polytheistic and worship themed gods from the default D&D (Faerun) Pantheon. Some smaller cults and individuals worship ancient fey, fiendish, and eldritch beings who dwell on the outskirts of their respective planes and may provide power to the exceptionally loyal -- for a price.

Special Abilities: You can choose to be a normal depowered person, but you are equally encouraged to take on magical abilities, whether you're a mage or not. In brief, you can be a wizard, whose magic comes from spellbooks and knowledge, a sorcerer, who have innate magical abilities, a bard, who draws their magic from music, words, and performance, a warlock, who has made a pact with a powerful entity in exchange of magical ability, a druid, who draws their magic from nature, and a cleric, whose divine abilities are gifted to them by a deity. (Other classes have magic too, but it might be easier to pick one of these major ones if you are unfamiliar!)

Rather than overthinking it, we recommend you pick whatever sounds fun to flavour your magic with, and then browse magical spells using classes as a filter. (Eighth and ninth level are off limits, and it may be easier to limit yourself further due to how many spells there are.) Given the temporariness of these powers, don't worry too much about how many spells you get or how frequently you can do them, but know that higher level spells (anything above fifth) can only be cast one or twice a day.

Your character may be Tassia-ised, in terms of their race, but in a limited capacity. All humans will stay human, but elves may adopt D&D traits like seeing in the dark.

Arrival: Rifts will open in the streets of the Cruxal. People will be startled by the sudden appearance of rifters and stand offish, but otherwise: they've seen it all before! No one will be calling the guard on you, unless you decide to start something, so please don't. Or enjoy jail.

The Cruxal is a labyrinthian melting pot built up in concentric rings around a massive central university and library. Goblins scarper among humans, elves, and dwarves in the street. There are tusked half orcs and horned, scale-clad dragonborn mixed in among more familiar silhouettes. This is a university town, but while a large portion of the population are students, academics, and staff, it is also self-sustaining, with taverns, shops, temples, brothels, residences, and marketways.

The university itself is guarded and degrees of entry closely regulated due to the school’s extensive collection of dangerous artifacts -- one of which just so happens to have gone missing last night. News of the theft has been suppressed, but every temple, tavern, and brothel on the outskirts of town is abuzz with the rumor. The entire corridor, they say, was scorched black.

Loxley and Richard won't be too concerned about herding everyone but can provide some coin as needed for inn rooms and food. They appear to have a near bottomless stash, at least as far as living costs go.

4 ↠ Sulleciel

Original fantasy world, Petrana de Cedoux.

What if magic was real and holy emperors still kissed the ring in Rome, until someone beheaded the fucking pope? Welcome to Sulleciel, and specifically to Lamor City, capitol of Lamorre and the seat of the Lamorran empire, ruled over by Empereur Marius IX and his consort, Empress Petrana Solene. A nation and empire in the throes, still, of great upheaval — think Versailles or Orlais, but lurching ungainly out of its dark ages into a theoretically more enlightened time, control of which is being actively fought in the halls of power and at grassroots levels of social influence. Power vacuums abound, thanks to the fall of the church and the rise of a conqueror who is less interested in ruling than he was conquering; women are still the often-illiterate property of their fathers and husbands, but now there are more alternatives to family and marital homes, and dedicated studies of witchcraft are being encouraged, with pilot programs across the empire primarily in those early sanctuary cities, figuring out how this is all going to work. Known for her efforts to lean on the scales in the people's favour Petrana herself is, in this era, rumored to be imprisoned; graffiti of her crowned likeness can be found in some places in the city, with the epithet ""la reine du malheur"".

Special Abilities: In Sulleciel, magic is a skill that may be pursued like any other — and there are those of more or less talent, as if someone were to attempt the violin, or swordplay. It is practised primarily through incantations and foci, with more elaborate spellwork for more ambitious results sometimes requiring particular items or a full coven to achieve. As magic is limited in Sulleciel only by the will, imagination and stamina of those practising it, no one coming here will be subject to any nerfs; all mages and otherwise magical or powered individuals will be able to use their powers as they're used to using them. In addition to this, anyone who is as magical as a chair-leg ordinarily can feel free to have a go at Sulleciel's magic — it's up to you if they have a knack for it or not. Simple spells like casting a light or telekinesis of small objects can be mastered by toddlers; a powerful enough witch or coven might be able to summon a thunderstorm and alter weather patterns, but ""can"" and ""should"" are different and it's generally advised that you try not to do a climate change.
"
Arrival: The rift will open into a spacious, luxuriously-appointed tower on the grounds of the imperial palace but not visibly connected to it above-ground. It was at one point the sole domain of the previous arciduc's personal astronomers, but is now the primary residence and working space of the Queen's Coven. The Queen's Coven is a particular group of women, so named for having been among the first witches to come beneath the new regime's protection in the first city-state to bend the knee where Petrana was first installed as Queen Regent; they are private, secretive, and increasingly cut off from the power-struggles of the imperial court, having been actively distanced from the Empress herself by a variety of other players in the game. Both relatively prepared for sudden magical happenings and inclined to keep shit in the tower on lock, they will be prepared to pass you all off as "foreign witches, seeking our enlightenment" and see both you and the sudden access to Petrana as potentially useful in their maneuverings. Which will make moving around easier, but will probably be an active hindrance to getting where and what you need. An underground tunnel connects the tower directly to the palace, though there are also pleasant, covered pathways to walk across the palace grounds; guards at the main, above-ground entrance to the tower will inquire about movements to and from, and will be skeptical but limit their interference initially ... as long as they don't see Petrana.

5 ↠ Kalvad

Original fantasy world, Wysteria Poppell.

Kalvad—specifically the city of Somerset, the magic capitol of the civilized world—is a mashup of Regency Era and Industrial-Revolution-But-Magic! Nebulously England (with the serial numbers aggressively filed off). When in doubt, default to Jane Austen vibes. But if it seems fun to do some weird magic-powered technological advancements, then go nuts.

Kalvad is an imperial island nation ostensibly ruled by three kings, though they're largely figureheads overseeing an upper and lower parliament. The country has made itself rich and powerful by doing a whole lot of war and colonization. As historically one of the most magically powerful regions in the world, magicians have long been a vital tool in the empire's efforts to do both those things.

Unfortunately for Kalvad, the strength of magic in the world has waned considerably in the last 40 years. Where once Talent was rare but reasonably powerful, magic users are both becoming more commonplace and considerably weaker. Even older magicians and hedge-witches who once might have manufactured considerable arcane feats have seen some diminishing of their powers. A popular, but unproven, theory in academic circles is that those with Talent all draw from the same "well" of magic. As more people are born with the ability to tap into that resource, the less there is to go around. Resentment for those with weaker Talents among older generations of magic users is A Thing.

That said, increased availability of minor magics has kick-started a 'minor magic' powered industrial revolution. Parlor witches who perform small arcane conveniences are growing in number; minor charms and enchantments have become more readily available to lower classes. Meanwhile, the non-magical population is slowly being shunted out of their respective cottage industry jobs and into factories powered by great enchanted machines. The empire as the world knows it is clearly teetering on the brink of major social and political upheaval, both at home and abroad. The consequences of all this change just haven't quite played themselves out yet, though you can bet there are people rushing around in an attempt to cover their asses before they do.

Special Abilities Characters will be nerfed of any abilities they had in Thedas, but can be Talented in Kalvad terms or not. Any Talented character under 40 is likely to be able to produce only minor magics (think lighting fires in fireplaces, being able to heal minor injuries, and temporarily being able to enchant objects to do one specific thing). Anyone over forty can be a little flashier (think appearance altering glamors, temporary invisibility, transfiguration and significant healing). General magic flavor is: Brothers Grimm fairy tales and Arthurian legends, except that someone somewhere made all that weirdly pliable magic adhere to a strict ruleset. Easy, thoughtless channeling of magic is a secret lost long before the arcane powers in the world began to diminish. Now, all magic must be carefully and deliberately designed and constructed. The magicians most accomplished by Kalvadan standards are methodical and patient. Think clockmakers and mathematicians, not wizards on the side of a van.

Arrival: Members of Riftwatch will arrive through a rift and find themselves on the wooded outskirts of a sprawling city. Luckily, no one will witness their initial arrival. Even more convenient: once they've gotten their bearings and made their way into the city, they'll discover they aren't the only weird strangers in town (although they may want to strongly consider indulging in petty theft to make themselves stick out less—particularly as it comes time to infiltrate places). It seems that a sprawling months-long academic conference turned party turned cover for political intrigue and cold warfare has descended upon Somerset.

In the aftermath of what everyone is claiming to be a major military victory somewhere, delegations from a number of implicated countries have converged on the city at the invitation of the Kalvadan Crowns in order to share and demonstrate their various technical and arcane achievements. The World's Fair-like atmosphere has drawn a number of non-Talented tourists, scheming politicians, and cutthroat spies along with the legitimately academically and/or magically inclined.

While Somerset is something of a city of wonders by the world's estimation, it's still first and foremost a dirty and crowded industrial hub in a world that has yet to bother with paving all its major roads. The conference has quadrupled that effect, transforming it into a riot of sights, sound, and (often to its detriment) smells. At this point, finding a room and board in the city has become less a question of where you want to stay and more one of how many other people you're willing to timeshare a bed with.

Luckily, it doesn't seem like Riftwatch will be sticking around long. Some snooping around the of pamphleting/gossip will reveal that the artifact they're after is likely to be found in the grand exhibition hall, and that there will be an opportunity to get their hands on it that evening.

6 ↠ Abeir-Toril

D&D Forgotten Realms, Astarion

The D&D continent of Faerûn is loosely based on Eurasia—if it ran entirely on magic, was roughly stuck somewhere in the 14th century forever, and was filled to the brim with elves, dragons, gnolls, faeries, gods, demi-gods, and just about any myth (or mythological creature) you’ve ever encountered in your life. For the purpose of simplicity, everyone from Riftwatch is going to get plunked down in the titular Baldur’s Gate: the city is massive, it’s known as the jewel of Faerûn, and its cultures, districts, trades and pastimes reflect that remarkable splendor. Still, think of it like Kirkwall in that there are some pretty damn rigid socioeconomic divides separating the city via districts. QUICK GUIDE.

The Upper City is the fancy part of town where nobles (known as Patriar) and their servants live, and it also houses the city’s government and key recreational buildings. There are no bars, pubs, taverns or drinking halls. Anything rowdy happens behind closed doors, and if you don't have an invitation, you'd better look for fun somewhere else. Magical enchantments and lanterns make it beyond stunning at night to stroll through. Lower City is more varied: you’ll find taverns, shops, tons of entertainment and ample trade, as well as pirates by the docks (and their ships), and the harbor waters are absolutely gorgeous for sailing on calm days. Doors are shut and locked during nighttime hours aside from taverns, inns or gambling parlors. Visibility is also lower at night when harbor fog rolls in, particularly where poorer residents can't afford oil, tallow or magic every night. The Undercity stretches deep (and hidden) beneath both the Upper and Lower Cities: it begins at its most shallow within the city as sewers and along seawall cliffs as open-mouthed caves. The deeper you go, the worse it gets: undead catacombs, cultists, temples, blood sport and bloody magic prevail alongside monsters too dangerous to clear out. Outer City sucks. There's almost next to no law or order, and is inherently dangerous to explore. Treat it like Lowtown for the most part, and you'll be pretty smack on (slavers and actual kind impoverished poor included).

CULTURE: Baldur’s Gate is primarily run by humans, and to a lesser extent, elves. Other races aren’t really considered a foothold here, but they’re more than welcome in the city and treated exceptionally well with a few exceptions here and there (ogres, trolls, more ferally inclined goblins, etc). This is not at all like Thedas: someone more familiar with discrimination against non-humans, certain pairings and particularly mages wouldn't find it here. Most of the time if you dress nicely and carry yourself well, you’ll be well respected. Or robbed. Or both!

Special Abilities: Characters will be adjusted to fit D&D, and powers are optional for all. For D&D’s magic/power/race everything, please take a look at some basic classes.

Arrival: Characters will arrive via rifts torn into the Outer City, just along its riverfront sprawl. They won’t be too far from the city gates, but witnesses to the scene will be inclined to gossip and gawk, assuming everything from a freak magical incident to believing the new arrivals are wealthy travelers from somewhere far and exotic, who simply missed their mark in teleporting to the Upper City for sightseeing. Anyone wearing Thedosian clothes will be fine to go without changing— wearing something more modern or say, nothing at all for some reason, will definitely require staging some kind of Terminator II style clothing (theft) acquisition in order to fit in.

Ideally, the team will at least want to make their way into Lowtown in order to begin snooping around, but it’s a big damn city to say the least, and information is expensive. Astarion will help within reason, but being a vampire means that he can only afford to fund so much on his own.

Might be a good idea to do some fetch quests or live your best Adventuring Party life, because you’re all going to likely be here for a (time distorted) relative while.

7 ↠ Orphan Black

Alternate-Universe Earth, 2014; Toronto, Canada; Cosima Neihaus.

Real-world mid-2010s, but secret unethical biology/biotech experiments including viable human cloning in the mid 1980s. Carrying out such technologically advanced work is a combination of international organizations including a private research company, at least one paramilitary organization and a shadowy organization that oversees both. (Orphan Black also features minor differences from our world typical of its genre, such as plot-convenient hacking and variably competent law enforcement, but the cloning project and related scientific offshoots are the most salient differences.) Relevant to this plot in particular, the Dyad Institute is a private organization, considered ""fringe"" by the mainstream scientific community, devoted to research related to human evolution and biotechnology. Some of its many employees had connections to the ""neolutionism"" community, the members of which believed human evolution should be actively shaped by scientific and technological intervention. The organization was responsible for the project that created Cosima and her sisters roughly 30 years before in-world present day. Also at the moment they're jumping to, Cosima works there, it's complicated. (If anyone is familiar with the canon, we're jumping in circa season two.)
A tiny pinboard.

Special Abilities: None, you're all just unpowered humans. Sorry/you're welcome.

Arrival: The group arrives at what turns out to be a nondenominational winter party for a local school; there are some mild shenanigans as Cosima clocks that it's a school attended by children she knows, and more pressingly, partially overseen by their mother, who has Cosima's face. Cosima press gangs one or more other people into helping her hide her own face while negotiating with Alison to borrow her minivan. She shuttles the group to Alison's large suburban Toronto home, which becomes the FR group's base of operation. (It is perhaps telling that while Alison finds this frustrating, she and her husband Donnie do sort of roll with it also.) If desired/depending on how big the group is, Cosima could also stow some Riftwatchers with Felix, the foster brother of one of her other clones, who has a big artsy loft downtown. She is not against taking anyone to her place, but she's a grad student; it's not huge. Everyone who knows how to use a phone or can be trusted to figure it out with a tutorial gets a burner phone for convenience. (Perhaps additionally telling how quickly Alison gets everyone a burner phone. She also decorates the protective cases for them. No, it's not optional.)

8 ↠ The Last of Us

Post-Apocalyptic Earth, Spring 2038, Seattle, Abby Lasterson & Ellie Williams.

This world was ours until 2013, when a worldwide pandemic broke out overnight. A fungus (cordyceps) that had originally infected mainly insects adapted to infect human beings. Anyone bitten by an infected person or who has breathed in a significant or concentrated amount of fungal spores becomes infected themselves. Over a maximum of two days, they utterly lose their humanity and deteriorate into violent monsters, eventually sprouting spores and fungal plates. There is no known cure, and the only human being ever known to be immune is Ellie Williams. 25 or so years later, humanity has crumbled into various factions in a struggle to survive. First came the Federal (FEDRA) response, resulting in Quarantine Zones and martial law. Life in the zones is highly regulated, with work assignments and rations that often aren't enough to go around. Many citizens are forced to turn to crime just to make ends meet. Orphaned children become wards of the state and are trained to become FEDRA soldiers by the time they're sixteen.

Various civilian groups rose up to rebel against FEDRA, forming factions such as the Fireflies (rebels who recruited scientists in an effort to find a cure), and the Washington Liberation Front (a militia-minded organization who overthrew FEDRA in Seattle). There are other smaller groups such as the religious zealots called the Seraphites, or the violent slavers known as the Rattlers.

Few and far between are independent human settlements like Jackson of Wyoming, where small communities have managed to gain self-sufficiency and safety with tireless group effort and highly vigilant defenders. They bolster their numbers by welcoming peaceful outsiders and engaging in trade with travelers.

Living outside of these groups, people are largely on their own, vulnerable to packs of hunters, bandits and even cannibals that prey on anyone brave enough to risk travel.

The infected are an ever-present threat everywhere, and the world is a ruin quickly being reclaimed by nature. (cw: body horror in the link) See board for world aesthetic and depictions of the Infected.

Special Abilities: Everyone is a normal human here. No supernatural powers, no magic, no non-humans.

Arrival: Welcome one of Ellie and Abby's least favorite places: Seattle. The Space Needle is visible in the distance, so despite the advanced state of decay, it's actually recognizable. Except it's been bombed, and rotting, and nature's reclaimed it for the last quarter-century. This adventure won't be for the faint of heart; there are no home bases and no safe space to be had. All clothing, supplies, weaponry and food are things you'll need to find yourself. Everyone can assume they'll get a quick lesson in gun safety and a rundown on various types of infected. Multiple rifts will open, so feel free to appear anywhere in the city (even apart from others) but expect to find no native allies. The city of Seattle is embroiled in civil war between the Seraphites (a religious cult who rejects anything "old world" and scars their faces, called "Scars") and the Washington Liberation Front (a ruthless mercenary coalition, called "Wolves") and both sides will assume you're with the other group and attack on sight. Better pick up a brick.
illithidnapped: (17)

[personal profile] illithidnapped 2022-12-23 09:16 am (UTC)(link)
[Laughter.

Gods above, if he knew how much a reprise that brittle, breathless burst from his throat actually is. So noiseless that it hardly clears his teeth, and shorter-lived than the warmth it leaves behind in its wake: reminding Astarion of just what it feels like to be rekindled in the oppressive cold Toril always manages to force around his heart.

Ever a dead, lonely thing until the most peculiar elf comes along.
]

Sometimes I wonder if you even pay attention to me.


[Which is all the playful banter he manages before pale hands find themselves pressed closer by Leto's encroaching form (bloodied knuckles turned towards his own face via the leverage it enacts— potent scent suddenly wafting directly into agitated senses), washing an otherwise lovesome expression in distillate darkness that spreads like a bloody wildfire before he has a chance to stop it: burning the tips of his fingers, his knuckles, his joints, his ribs, his throat, his mouth, his mouth, his mout— ]
Edited 2022-12-23 09:57 (UTC)
illithidnapped: (A32)

2/3

[personal profile] illithidnapped 2022-12-23 09:26 am (UTC)(link)
Mmph— !!

[A flinch. A near whimper mapped out by the edges of a grimace that doesn't abate for all the distance he shoves between them, palms first: Leto flat against the wall again, the vampiric thing that covers him a single stride away, locked by its own overpowering grip. Head dropped towards the floor, hung between raised shoulders— Astarion's fineboned features fully hidden behind a curtain of garnet-drenched curls (white at their roots, dark and dripping at their tips: only spawn blood, and there is so much safety in that fact).]

Don't, don't don't. [He mutters, hoarse and rabidly aflame. Voice like a trembling knife pushed up against vulnerable skin. Sharpened by the smell of living tissue. Extant copper. Savory, salivating depth that promises to quench his every pain, like cool water on a hot day, and even his tongue curls itself to try and lap within his shut mouth at what isn't anywhere near its reach.]

—don't.

[One hand lifts on its own. Fisted one moment— flexed the next. Claws gleaming red-slick before curling hard enough to cut against the underside of his palm. Far from immune to the agonizing pain it causes— but then again, that's the point:]

You've no idea how alluring you are right now.

[Bitter humor on his tongue; it falls to the floor the second that it leaves his lips.

And precedes the rising of a hollow stare.
]
Edited 2022-12-23 14:08 (UTC)
illithidnapped: (A26)

3/3

[personal profile] illithidnapped 2022-12-23 09:56 am (UTC)(link)
The other spawn. The vampires that hunted you, it was your blood they were after.

Starvation made them desperate. Weak. [Astarion remembers it too clearly even now, pulling his fingers from Fenris' comforting grasp in a cramped little Lowtown flat that stank of mildew and clinging chill. Too damned afraid of what might happen the second he confessed what he was: a blood-drinking, immortal, cursed monstrosity— and though he's joked blithely about it ever since, fear always made certain he never really tacked on more.

After all: as they say, the devil's in them.
]

Weaker than I am now, but not by as much as I'd care to admit.

From the way it sounds, we've both been here for weeks. Which means I haven't had a drop since— [Thedas, and even then, how many weeks ago was that?]

I haven't had a drop.

[There. The crux of it.]

So, to answer your question: I'm not the living elf you knew back home. [home] Reunited with my master's gift, I can scent creatures for miles with distinctive ease; I can overpower most mortals just as effortlessly— provided I'm at my full strength. I can see in perfect dark, and my teeth and claws can turn even thickened flesh into ribbons.

I don't age. I don't breathe. I don't die.

—at least, not in any way a living thing would.

And somehow, because of the Fade or something else entirely, the enslaving hold my master should have on me in exchange for all that power isn't working like it should. What that might mean, I don't know.

[With a heavy swallow in a too-dry throat, he pulls his grasp back towards those partially fastened bindings: smoothing down agitated cloth before tying off and tucking in the edges, staying the worst of Leto's wounded flow. There. There.]

But what you need to understand right now is that I love you more than the risk that comes from keeping you safe. That I've waited too long to spot even a glimpse of that pretty face to go fleeing back into the darkness, alone. Not so long as I can help it.

And that despite all that, what my body is screaming at the top of its fetid lungs as long as you keep bleeding—

[Red eyes slide higher, their reflective inner hollows blazing even in that unlit space. He's a deliberate thing, Astarion. He knows he's invoking some keen sense of primal horror; the passed-down fear of standing stock-still in the dead of night and turning to see two glinting circles peering back in formless shadow.

Here. This is what I am. What I've always been.
]

Is that you're nothing more than food.
armd: (hang on a sec)

arrival

[personal profile] armd 2022-12-23 11:17 am (UTC)(link)
Abby notices that she's gone. How could she not? This is Earth, sure, but brand new, scrubbed clean, and Clarisse and the other rifters (cuz aren't they all technically rifters now? Hysterical) are her only constant. There's only one thing that Abby wants to come back to after a heavy, full day of exploring. She's exhausted, mind buzzing with information and feelings she can't begin to process, and it's good to have something feel normal, to crawl into a bed and know that Clarisse is in another one nearby.

And then day two, she goes. Splits up, takes off. Yeah she seemed on edge, but they all are, right? What's happening is crazy. Abby ends up going off to do her own thing and, reliably, Clarisse is back at the tower around early evening as if nothing happened.

Funny that. She's not mad or anything, just- disappointed, maybe, that Clarisse doesn't wanna hang out with her, or show her around or anything, cuz she's... used to this place, right? This is closer to her home than anything they've seen so far. Abby's been walking around alone all day. Google Maps is her friend now, so.

"Where-" Those bloody knuckles pop into Abby's field of view now that she's closer, and she changes tact abruptly, frowning, "You okay?"
armd: (lev...............)

give me The Boy

[personal profile] armd 2022-12-23 11:37 am (UTC)(link)
The presence of the rifters has drawn a lot of curiousity from Jude's pack these past couple days, and Abby still isn't used to the staring. She keeps catching people watching her when they think she isn't looking, elders eyeing her curiously, gangs of weird children that love to run away before she can say anything to them for gawking at her, shrieking with laughter behind sticky fists. Getting any kind of attention isn't really her forte. She tries to ignore it.

One kid lingers, though. He doesn't belong to one of the gangs, even seems like a bit of a loner, there every so often in her peripheral, a blurry little floater in the corner of her eye. She notices him, even if he thinks she doesn't.

By the third day past their arrival it's starting to get ridiculous. Abby doesn't want to yell at him or anything, she just wants to answer whatever question he's been working on this whole time, anything to get him to go away. She raises her voice to him as she crosses the Den with a load of old blankets hefted in her arms. "Hey, you."

Yeah, you! The kid who just pretended he didn't hear her calling out. "You gonna help me with this or what?"

It's fine. Really, the load of blankets is totally fine for her to carry alone, but god damn. She's breaking the ice by fucking force here, okay.
armd: (gross)

taps twice,

[personal profile] armd 2022-12-23 11:58 am (UTC)(link)
Hopefully he thinks to check the training ground every so often, just to scoop up those who are having trouble adjusting to being on all fours. Abby makes for a handsome wolf in her own right, barrel chested as she is in person, eyes a stormy, dark blue. She's supposed to be learning how to fight like this, tooth and claw, but it's hard to reconcile with this thing inside of her that lives and moves so differently.

Her russet coat is already caked with mud. She's slipped over a few times in the training grounds, and outside, rankling at any stranger who tries to come near her. Too embarrassed. Too bad at being an actual wolf.

If she can't work this out, she's decided she's shifting back and staying that way. She can help out with other things she doesn't need to be a wolf fighter or whatever, even though it's so cool and that's absolutely what she wants to be.
bouchonne: (considering)

[personal profile] bouchonne 2022-12-23 03:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"My my," says Byerly, a grin cracking across his face. "What a sight you are."

By gestures to the seat beside him, inviting him to sit. As soon as he does, Byerly plucks at his sleeve, critically examining the quality of the fabric.

"Hmm," he says, but doesn't comment verbally.
foolsmakeitcolder: (35)

[personal profile] foolsmakeitcolder 2022-12-23 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Reilly had thought he'd been less obvious than that. He'd spent a lot of time not looking directly at things and people, curbing his curiosity and learning to keep his head down, especially when it came to large, imposing "asshole dominants". But these new people from another planet, the ones who haven't always been shifters, are the biggest curiosity in his life right now. Most of them are older and they don't want anything to do with the kids, especially one half-grown like him, but Abby's different. She's closer to his age, and she notices him.

Abby doesn't look mean, precisely, but she's obviously big and strong, and even if he's not a wolf, he's got it in his blood. Reilly can feel the way the dominance kinda sparkles all around her. Most people are somewhere in the middle of the road, if they're not an alpha or a beta. But man, she's up there.

But she doesn't act like any of the dominants he knows. Heck, the person she reminds him of most is probably Hayden, his own beloved, goofy, soft alpha. The one who whines about dish duty but also does the very most, and lets the smallest of pups boss him, who teases without being mean.

Reilly freezes as Abby-the-newcomer-alien-wolf turns her eyes on him, caught, and stares at her with wide eyes as he runs some quick calculations. His first step is hesitant, but then he catches up, gingerly lifting one side of the blankets to better balance them.

"Sorry," he says automatically, his voice a little small. He doesn't sound scared, to exactly, just a little intimidated, unsure of how he's supposed to act.

He keeps quiet for all of a few seconds before he says, shyly:

"I was trying to think about how to talk to you. But I didn't want to make it weird. Sometimes when people are new, they need their space, and they should be allowed to talk when they're ready."

It has the air of something an adult has thoughtfully told him.
favoriteanalyst: (what answers will you find?)

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2022-12-23 05:45 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's really amazing. Only festivals tend to have this much food just...out there. And still not the same kind of spread." They might not know what the hell a lot of this stuff even is, but is that going to stop them? Absolutely not.

He offers up the can, motioning for the bagel with the other. "And so relatively cheap. I think?" Hard to tell actually how expensive anything is. But a lot of people are having a lot of food all the time? So it can't be too bad. "Obviously there's a lot more to this world than just food, but it's a big point for it."
favoriteanalyst: (Default)

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2022-12-23 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)
He's pretty sure he only looks like this because...well, he doesn't know how it works. Is he scrawny for a wolf, in spite of being a fair enough size as a human? On the other hand, all this travel and strangeness of time (thanks, Crossroads), maybe that changes things around.

Mobius ducks his head to sniff at the fish, and the wolf is pleased with the free handout. A paw holding it down and gnawing at it, teeth shredding, the strange sensation of strength in jaws instead of, say, human arms.

But he and the wolf seem to be in agreement at the moment, not in strife. They like food, and they like Barrow. Good enough, for the moment, even as Mobius keeps his ears swiveling for any approaching sounds.
favoriteanalyst: (with the water pouring down)

do we have threads already yes too bad here's another

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2022-12-23 06:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"You might wanna stick by someone who's got a little range on their weapons," Mobius says, casually, like this is all perfectly normal and not whittling away at their sanity.

Because he's noticed Strange sticking by him in particular when they're out. Which is flattering, yes, but is it practical?

He doesn't have a whetstone, and he normally would clean off his sword with a little more care than simply sluicing blood both dried and fresh with whatever scrap of not-moldy fabric he can get his hands on. It's going to have to last until whatever the hell they need to find is found.

"Seeing as neither one of us is going to be using a gun, and I never learned bows in my training."
favoriteanalyst: (and the backyard's full of bones)

cw: gore, torture, murdercult

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2022-12-23 06:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"Andrastianism has cults, too. There's one, or used to be one anyway, that celebrated Andraste becoming the wife of the Maker in a very literal way. Full on orgies and the like. Some take the messages in the Chant and...twist them in less fun ways."

He's pretty sure their prophet didn't want anything to do with torture and gutting. He's pretty sure most religions aren't based on gleeful hanging and slow, painful death. He's pretty sure these people lost their way. Is it hubris, then, that makes him think if only he could talk to them, he could get to the heart of the schism, reason with them?

Probably. Probably should've grabbed Strange and let him know about his hand so maybe Ellie could be doing something else and not listen to this nonsense. Mobius breathes out slow.

"Are they the reason Abby seems particularly disgruntled with the predominant religion back home?"

Ellie's never expressed any particular vehement disdain, not in the times he's brought up his faith. Abby wears her heart on her sleeve, and even though she catches herself, seems to internally chastise herself after she scoffs or scowls or rolls her eyes or looks like she's just smelled a startled skunk, she expresses herself immediately anyway. And maybe Ellie isn't the best person to ask, given the history, but he isn't looking to ask Abby about it point blank right now. Maybe when they're back. Out of this fungal hell.

Quieter, then: "I imagine it's hard to believe in a higher power when the world is like this."
favoriteanalyst: (but the smoke clears when you're around)

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2022-12-23 06:38 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's loud."

It isn't, or at least, it isn't any louder here among the pack than normal. Mobius pads up to Jude, arms tucked inside the ridiculously large and cozy sweater he's been provided. Nudges his head up under Jude's chin, a move that the wolf has bid him do without even a second thought. Being near to Jude gives a sense of soothing, and he's never understood it more than being touched with the ability himself.

And that's part of the problem. He frowns at himself and pulls back, taking a breath.

"I don't know that that's the right word, loud."
laruetheday: emotionally distant fathers. turns out i'm one of them. (i always felt bad for people with)

[personal profile] laruetheday 2022-12-23 06:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Clarisse ducks her head and sucks more Dr. Pepper through her straw. Her brain is laser focused on the places where Ellie's shoes are squeezing against her ankle, and it takes her a few seconds to recover enough to speak.

"There's a place in Queens where they put, like, donuts and candy and different syrups on their milkshakes." She grins around another bite of her burger. "I think that might've put you into a coma." Really, she did them both a favor by coming here instead.
notathreat: (43)

[personal profile] notathreat 2022-12-23 07:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Ellie's quiet, lets him talk it out. She's worried for him, mostly. A little pissed that he won't take her word for it; but then, would she take his word on anything when she hadn't found out for herself? She's coming to realize that Mobius is one of those people who has to try.

She loves him for it. Usually.

The next question's kind of a surprise. Ellie hasn't talked to Abby at any length about religion, but that does sound like her, especially if what she had as an example were the Seraphites.

"The Scars and the Wolves have been having a whole civil war for what seems like a long time," Ellie ventures. "I never actually found out a lot about it. But if these fuckers were hunting people from Jackson, I'd hate them too."

The words are a pang, deep in her chest, and the next ones aren't better.

"There are plenty of people who believe in stuff here, just not Andrastianism. There's- something similar. But instead of the Maker it's just "God" and instead of Andraste, there was some guy named Jesus, born from a virgin, did a bunch of miracles, was supposed to be God's son and all. He was a martyr, too, but they nailed him to a cross instead of burning him. Most people in my world at least know about that one. Joel did. He wasn't super devout or anything, but he'd sometimes talk about God the way people in Thedas talk about the Maker."

Ellie shrugs, unrolling some bandages in her hands, and pauses to touch the Hamsa charm on a leather cord, circled around her wrist. It's well-weathered, and Mobius has seen her wear it often. It's always there on missions, and it was on during the assembly of mages. It's been constantly on her wrist since they've started their trek through realities.

"Dina is Jewish." For a second that seems like a whole sentence, but the pause is for the name, not the rest of it.

Ellie offers her wrist with the hamsa bracelet, so Mobius can examine it.

"We were together. For a while. She gave me this to keep me safe. It's a hamsa, it's supposed to ward off the Evil Eye."

Maybe it says something that she's still wearing it, but Ellie pushes along, because that's not the point here.

"I guess there's some things that cross over with Christianity, but Jewish folks have been around way longer than they have, and they've got a lot of history. Over the years a whole lot of people tried to kill them, but they got really good at surviving." A smile sneaks out, something wistful and sad.

"Dina says that most of the Jewish holidays are about celebrating outliving your enemies. And food."

The smile fades away, and Ellie wets her lower lip.

"I can't say I do believe in anything, really. I've seen a lot of people do a lot of shitty things because they think some "god" told them to. But when Dina prayed, it always seemed like it was something that... was comforting. Made her feel happier. Not so alone. And I..."

Ellie shrugs, slightly.

"I've tried it. Praying. To whatever's out there. I'd like to believe something is. But all it ever makes me feel is alone."
laruetheday: (i'll read it when i'm closer to death.)

[personal profile] laruetheday 2022-12-23 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)
The fact that Abby seems to have been looking for her shouldn't be that surprising, and yet Clarisse still finds herself surprised. She should have known that Abby would be feeling overwhelmed by all of this, but everything was clouded by her own stupid eagerness to get back to something familiar.

She feels almost guilty now for running off and disappearing, especially since it amounted to nothing other than a busted hand and a lot of disappointment. She should've just stuck around and gotten pizza with Abby instead.

"Yep." Everything's fine here. Clarisse flops back onto a couch that's red and more comfortable than it has any right to be, tucks both hands into her hoodie pockets. "Did you eat already?"

If not, pizza is still on the menu.
cozen: (n197)

[personal profile] cozen 2022-12-23 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)
During the transition between shapes, there's a moment—the briefest moment—when Bastien gets a glimpse of what Byerly would look like if he were a character in Cats (2019). He will have to live with that forever. And he'll be alright, really, but for the first moments of By's freshly-human snuggling, Bastien's mouth is pursed instead of smiling, his gaze into the middle distance more befuddled than horrified but nonetheless faraway with slightly haunted thought.

Convenient, then, that the subject is warrants a distant and considering sort of demeanor. He doesn't have to rush into it; he's already there, while he squirms to make himself comfortable in By's grip and wraps one hand around his arm.

"Not yet," he says. "Not for lack of it being in our natures. Unless the Magisters Sidereal count, starting the Blight because they overreached—and Corypheus, now, wanting to upend everything. He doesn't need movies and electric lamps for that."
favoriteanalyst: (I talk in my sleep)

[personal profile] favoriteanalyst 2022-12-23 08:21 pm (UTC)(link)
For some, talk like this comes easily. For most, it's deeply personal, guarded, frightened that by speaking of it, some shadowed beast might slip inside and tear it all apart. Mobius lets her speak, to say whatever she feels, explain whatever she knows.

Ellie offers up her wrist and the strange symbol attached to it that Mobius had never asked about before. His uninjured hand reaches out- hesitates. This is something important, precious. There's the absurd thought that he doesn't want to sully it or somehow take away any of the magic (real or imagined) that exists to offer its protection. But his fingers are gentle when lightly touching it, tilting it between light sources. He has to imagine it's warm from the proximity to the fire now, or residually warm from proximity to Ellie's body.

Just as faith is a deeply personal thing, a lack of faith is as well. "'Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing, an ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr. Within My creation, none are alone.'"

Mobius gives a one-shouldered shrug and a sheepish smile. Maybe it's uncouth to quote a religious text in this context, but it felt like a thing to say. "Maybe you only feel alone because you don't know who or what you're even praying to. Maybe wanting to believe isn't actually the same as believing. My prayer, every day, gives me some solace. It's less about expecting any answers or any miracles. Honestly, part of it is just that it's become so routine for me that it helps settle me. A calm and quiet moment of reflection is good for my soul, you could say. But what everyone believes and how they go about believing, that's different for every individual. You might be surprised how many atheists there are in Thedas."

Is that the point? Hm. Not really, but it's context nevertheless. Even, maybe especially, among Riftwatch.

(Will he forgive Marcus for making it feel like having faith makes him suspect? To Be Determined.)

"I can't speak on some of the other faiths. I've apparently seen first hand that the old elves might've had something going for them with their gods. I don't know their stories. But of the faiths I do know, at the end of the day most of them are just collections of stories. Histories, if rewritten, and allegories, and fables, that end up being collected and translated from people all around the world. People tell stories, as people have always told stories, as people will always tell stories, to teach lessons and to pass on information. There's power in a story, but whether you think the story is true or not, whether it gives you comfort as fable or as fact, is up to you."

He's told Astarion before. That he knows his prayers to the Maker fall on deaf ears, that they are more for Andraste than the god that has turned His back on the world. That praying for a better world will not make it so; it still takes the work of mortal people all doing their best to change the world for the better. But that also isn't the point of prayer. It's...

Complicated. It's always complicated. "In a place like this, and with a heart as strong as yours? Kid, I think so long as you have faith in yourself and the people around you, you're never gonna feel alone."
bouchonne: (considering)

[personal profile] bouchonne 2022-12-23 09:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, I don't think that counts," Byerly counters. Then he takes a moment to lick the side of Bastien's face, and smacks his lips - "No, much better as a cat."

Then he explains his reasoning - "The Magisters Sidereal weren't after destruction. And that was far too long ago for us to bear guilt for what they did." Then - "Do you think? It's truly in our natures?"
charmoffensive: (66)

tassia. ota.

[personal profile] charmoffensive 2022-12-23 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
The Adventurer's Guild is as fine an establishment as any building on this particular street, a two-storied building that squares up just fine next to the other guildhalls and administrative buildings as its neighbours.

Rather than enter it, Loxley stops at the jobs board, hands on hips and peering at the fluttered pieces of overlapping parchment pinned to its surface, all with various degrees of legibility between them. "You see, this sort of thing," and he gestures to an advertisement that requests assistance in cleaning out a basement, with the generous offering of fifty gold as reward, "will get you killed, if you're new to it all."

If you've ever wondered what he meant when he said he was (or is) an adventurer, this is part of it.

He has, himself, gotten over the shock of his appearance. Silver qunari skin, strikingly, is now a deep golden-brown, sporting an unnatural metallic sheen that is only further emphasised by the grey-gold of his curling horns. Between the split of his coat hangs at ease a tail, ending in a bony point, idly listing back and forth behind him. His eyes, too, have changed—black sclera and golden pupils and irises, shining like pennies in ink.

He's also dressed better, suddenly, in a blue frockcoat with golden embellishment, a dense dark red cloak over top and soft silks beneath, layers of luxury that are striking in contrast to the more rough and tumble adventurers milling around the guild.

There are plenty of places he will point out around the Cruxal, although he does not give the impression that he is necessarily at home so much as having returned to a familiar city he's travelled to once or twice. Still, he knows it well, and can recommend certain taverns, brothels, gambling dens with deft ease.

Eventually, they will leave. They will go on an adventure.

The Queen of Gales is a beautiful airship, capable of cruising the sky by way of gravity-defying magical crystals and sails that spread like wings. Its crew are friendly but focused on their tasks, in general, and made up of a myriad of beings: a hulking half-orc who Loxley speaks to fairly regularly, a firbolg with bad posture, a young woman with blue skin and webbed feet who scampers up the ropes, but also plenty of humans.

And Captain Loxley, as he is apparently titled while on its deck, puts in his share of work, found often at the helm or looking over a variety of maps in his quarters as they fly east.

Beneath, the landscape quickly turns to dense greenery.

Upon landing, some days beyond where they have guessed the entrance of the temple to be, Loxley's finery shifts with a glimmer of magic, turning into more robust looking dark brown leathers, earth-toned garments beneath. He jumps off the last rung of the ladder from the airship with a hop, hand resting on the hilt of his rapier as he peers around the dense jungle wilderness they find themselves in. It's all as foreign to him, out here, as it is to anyone.

There's an ambush, at one point: a gaggle of lizardfolk bandits that manage to get the jump on them. Hissing, equipped with poison-tipped arrows and spears and claws that let them scramble up and down the thick-trunked trees that close so densely around them all. Loxley's fighting style sees him in the thick of it, boots planted in the soft jungle floor as a rapier wreathed in green flames slices and cuts and pierces.

At one stage, a lizardfolk gets a clean swipe across his chest, Loxley drawing his sword back to retaliate—but instead, his eyes flare as he hisses something in harsh, incomprehensible syllables, and from nowhere, fire spreads across his opponent's scaly chest, sending him thrashing and shrieking backwards.

The nights are no safer, and Loxley will volunteer for night watches, patrolling the campsite with eyes that gleam cat-like in the gloom.

[ ooc ; as always, feel free to wild card me if none of the above strikes you! ]
notathreat: (47)

[personal profile] notathreat 2022-12-23 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
"Seriously? Fuck, how- how do you focus on anything with this much sugar in you?"

Ellie curiously lifts the glass, looking at the sheer size of it, the depth. Of course it doesn't stop her from plunking it back down on the vinyl-covered tabletop and going back to it. Ellie locks her eyes on Clarisse a second later, her eyes softening until-

Well. Brainfreeze. Ellie clamps her eyes shut, scrunching her face.

"Ow, son of a bitch."
armd: (pointing)

[personal profile] armd 2022-12-23 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Abby grunts in acknowledgement of the apology and the two of them walk like that in silence for a bit, carrying the stack together. The blankets are a mixture of crochet and knit, the material scratchy against her skin where her shirt sleeves pushed up. They're well loved. She can see spots where they've been darned, sewn back together, patched up. A lot of Jude's Den reminds her of the stadium, actually, the shifters are the same kind of eco-friendly, and creative with any leftovers.

Finally, the kid speaks. Abby eyes him for a moment. Like she thought he's pretty shy, peeking up at her from around the blankets. He's older than she thought he was at first glance now that he's up closer, and she can actually see his face through that mop of hair. He's probably Lev's age, or close to it.

... God. What the fuck is she doing.

"Watching me and not saying anything is weird," she tells him, but not unkindly. Just telling it like it is. "I don't mind if you wanna talk. I'm Abby."
katabasis: (he was going to attack)

flint;

[personal profile] katabasis 2022-12-23 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[Not doing open toplevels with Flint, but happy to write closed starters. Feel free to wildcard and/or holler at me if you want something with him. Tentatively putting him in MCUland, Abeir-Toril, and Seattle, but flexible if you want something somewhere else.]
Edited 2022-12-23 23:36 (UTC)
katabasis: (he was going to attack)

ysuelt ↠ abeir-toril

[personal profile] katabasis 2022-12-23 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
They'd started the evening by failing to make an appointment.

Rather than show up to the backroom meeting with blackmarket antiquities dealer, they'd waited for the frustrated broker to make her way out of the Lower City taproom empty handed. From there, it had been a gamble as to which direction the half-elf would break—going to ground, or moving away from it. That she does the former should be reassuring. Maybe the goods her crew is trafficking in have legtimate value if seeing them safeguarded is the first actionable impulse. After all these are rumored to be delicate items from far outside the city's gates, recently arrived; it's certainly possible that the artifact Riftwatch is looking for is among them.

It's just a shame that the going to ground aspect turns out to be so literal. In the labyrinthine Undercity, it's easy to get turned around.

There is a small light balanced in the curve of Flint's palm. The flame has no apparent fuel - no wick or oil on which it feeds - and lacks any more protection than the shape of his fingers as they move along. What has begun as a tongue of torchlight in the Lower City has peeled away into Flint's hand and been made to linger there. In their descent, it's mutated to resemble the light of a wisp—pale, watery, a blue-tinged phosphorescence which mingles unobtrusively with the drifting glow of the algae growing in the flooded stretched or underground passages, or with the rare hints of moonlight trickling in from jagged overhead voids linking back to the surface.

So long as they maintain a sensible distance (and there's no reason not to; the light the half-elf is using it significantly less concerned with secrecy and floods up the narrowing walkways long after the sound of her footsteps have faded), there's no reason why this should tip anyone off to the presence of a tail.
Edited 2023-01-04 08:02 (UTC)
cozen: (Default)

[personal profile] cozen 2022-12-24 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
Bastien laughs first, turns his head to press a peck kiss against By’s cheek, and keeps his head leant in while he returns to seriousness:

“I think so, yes. To overreach. That is what Stark—I mean, what I read is that it was meant to protect people. That is usually what it is about. Back when we were all tribesmen, we made bows and swords so we could protect our people from starvation or raids. The golems are to protect against the darkspawn. Who wouldn’t make a gun for the same reason, if they could? And then a bomb.”