MOD PLOT ↠ HOME FOR RIFTMAS

[faderifting]

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.

Comments

[doggish]

[Invitations. Sunlight. Water. Stakes, and it goes in the same place all his most vital information about Astarion goes, right alongside the scent of vanilla or herbs, or when wood gets too hot in plain sunlight and each and every one of the horrors Cazador has inflicted on his beloved. It's information that he does not think about on a day-to-day basis, but rather that he allows to sink into his mind, informing his daily behavior. Before, in Thedas, it came out in different ways: he will flinch when we sink into the bath, but is not opposed to it; don't mention razors, not without warning or good reason. Little adjustments, easily made and happily ceded to, for (as Leto has discovered) that is what it means to have a lover.

Now it will emerge in other ways: running water will be dangerous, so mind yourself when you have a glass. We have to find a room without windows soon, we cannot risk sunlight, not even a little. There's nothing he can do about the lattermost point, not right now (dawn cannot be far), but he can at least work to make things more assuring for today. Leto stands, his mouth still aching from that kiss, and goes to strip the sheets from the bed, intent on pinning them behind the raggedy curtains that hang over the sole window in his room. It's far from perfect, but the more layers, the better.

He's a terror, Astarion murmurs, and oh, yes: they will have to consider that, won't they? Astarion would not act so casual if Cazador were on his heels, but still. Even Fenris had not dared to linger in the same city as Danarius; if Cazador lives in Baldur's Gate, they will need to act quickly, either in flight or fight. He will not risk his amatus being taken again, nor indeed, for them to be caught off-guard.]

You are a menace.

[He says it off-handedly over his shoulder, an idle response made by an aching mouth as he ties fabric to jutting nails. He doesn't bother following up on it, either: just waits until he's finished, then turns, focusing on the other el—

Ah. Not the other elf, is he . . .?]

How much of a threat is Cazador?

[Understand: he wants so desperately to fall into Astarion's arms. He's dreamed of nothing but that these past three weeks, vulgar and chaste, cuddling giving way to heated gasps and arched backs— but this first.]

Tell me what I need to know. Is he in this city? How quickly do you imagine he will track you? Now that I have found you, I care little for where we flee— and while he will need to be dealt with sooner or later, there is need for us to confront him immediately.

[It's a little too intense, a little too much— but he remembers what it is to be hunted. He remembers what it is to have one's master breathing down your neck, wandering ever-closer, sending all manner of mercenaries and bounty hunters to chase after you— not just because you are his favorite, but because you are his, and his ego cannot withstand such an insult. They have an advantage in that Cazador (presumably) doesn't know Astarion is back, but that will only last so long.]

But I would not have us be caught unawares.

[portalling]

“Storm King,” Strange says as the portal quietly vanishes behind them, “which I realise is a Thedas-sounding name if ever there was one. It’s actually a nearby mountain, which I think you can just about see over the hills. This is a public state park and an art center both named after it. Nice place for a daytrip in the summer.”

Hands settled into his pockets and the very picture of nonchalance, he peers around, breathing in the fresh crisp air, the silence; and then leans a little forward to examine that curious reflective piece, like someone broke the sky and it scattered across the grass in front of them.

“There’s art pieces all around the fields, so you’ll see statuary and sculptures. Although I haven’t seen this particular piece before— hadn’t really had time to visit in a few years.”

He’d been too busy as a doctor, which was a good excuse — but he’d certainly had the time as a sorcerer, since as demonstrated, it only took a moment to get here. It’s a nice reminder, Strange realises, that he probably ought to stop and smell the roses a little more often.

[notathreat]

"To take pictures of it?" Ellie squints at the destroyed top of her milkshake, the half-demolished burger, and takes an onion ring to dunk it in the sauce.

"I mean. It's sexy, but..."

Look.

[armd]

Well, they can still do that. Plenty of time. Abby's tired out enough that she decides to take Clarisse's dismissal for what it is, resolving not to ask her about it again. If she says she's fine, she's fine.

She takes her phone out. She's spent almost the entire day to figure out how to use it and it's still surprising her with new features. Abby's been using it primarily for the messaging system, and the digital map of New York City, and there's this website called Google that you can type anything into and it will answer the question, or show you something? So useful. She hung out in Central Park for about an hour or so, perched on a park bench, looking at pictures of Seattle.

She comes over to sit next to Clarisse.

"Check this out." There are a couple pictures of things from her day. Some dogs she saw in the park, and a cool little secondhand bookshop she hated having to leave. Right now she's showing Clarisse a picture of food on a plate, chicken and waffles. Crazy combination! So fucking good. "Have you had this before?"

[laruetheday]

Fuck, man. Clarisse has been thinking about all the food she misses and wants to try again before they have to leave here, and she'd completely forgotten about chicken and waffles until just now. Her stomach clenches with want just looking at the picture on Abby's phone.

"Yeah, I have. It's good." She leans in closer for a better look, slumping against Abby's arm in a way that's supposed to be casual but ends up seeming just sort of pathetic, like a kid looking for comfort. She's bummed, okay.

"You take any other pictures?" Go on, show her.

[laruetheday]

Not what Clarisse was worried about, but good looking out.

To her credit, she doesn't scream at the first leap, even though she feels herself go tense all over as soon as they're off the ground. She tries to tell herself that it's like getting to the top of a hill on a rollercoaster. She's safe. A rollercoaster, just... no car, no seatbelt holding her into the car, no track. (What if Gela drops her by accident from the top of the Empire State Building? Oh, fuck.)

The descent is less frightening. Slower, like dangling from an invisible parachute. Bit by bit, Clarisse manages to loosen the muscles in her shoulders and back.

"Ha," she says weakly.

[armd]

She does seem pretty subdued, yeah. Abby thought that the picture of the food would make her flip out cuz she's always talking about missing stuff like that. Food and movies. All Clarisse does is look at the screen and slump into her. Abby is reminded oddly of how dogs do that against your leg when you're sitting down. Mel told her that's how dogs hug you.

"Yeah. Hang on."

Okay don't look at the ones where she was figuring out how it worked and pointing the camera at any old thing... she scrolls past those, taps on a picture of an underground subway entrance, spewing people up out of it all over the sidewalk. They were all moving really fast, some of them are blurry at the edges. She got shouted at for stopping to take that photo, blocking the flow of traffic for thirty seconds.

This photo flows into a couple of Times Square, into food trucks, into dogs wearing little jackets and shoes, jewelry shop windows (so sparkly), rows and rows of polished brass saxophones lined up by size. It's very stream of consciousness.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse gives her a little nod, a silent acknowledgement of the compliment. It was a pretty good shot, but there's no time to relish in it, not when there are still three guys out there itching to blow their heads off if either of them makes a single mistake.

She watches Ellie run off and disappear into the tall grass. The whole thing goes down seamlessly, Ellie slipping away like a ghost even as the wolves shoot right at her, and Clarisse feels her heart punch against her ribcage, half in admiration, half in something a lot less innocent than that. Damn, she's good.

Then the glass bottle shatters farther down. Great distraction, and just like puppets on a string, she can hear the wolves moving cautiously toward the sound.

She starts inching back, intending to circle around the gas pumps and end up behind them.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse can't help laughing a little at some of the pictures. They're so... cute, and it's funny to imagine Abby getting excited enough to stop and take a photo of a little dog wearing a jacket. But her laughter isn't mean—she sounds charmed. It's fun seeing little snapshots of the things Abby finds interesting.

"Cool," she says, once Abby's finished swiping. "Tomorrow we should go out and I can show you around the city some more." She bets Abby'd really like the High Line. And the public library.

[laruetheday]

"Yeah," Clarisse agrees, sounding equally baffled by the concept. Silena would be able to explain it. She'd say...

"It's aesthetic." Except that word, coming out of Clarisse's mouth, just sounds stupid. It doesn't explain anything. She makes a face and then pops the final bite of her burger into her mouth. Oh well.

[notathreat]

Ellie glances back, and out of the corner of her eye, she can see Clarisse circling back to get the angle on these assholes, staying low. God, she's more impressed with her every time they fight together.

Part of her had thought that maybe she'd just try to brute force every fight, to be reckless and heedless of the danger, but Clarisse fights smart. She does what it takes to come out the other end of every fight alive, and she knows how to fight with someone else. It's the kind of shit that can't always be taught, and Clarisse wasn't even born here.

Ellie draws her attention back from her thoughts to the three assholes who are tracking her location, even if she's one car off. She army-crawls underneath the lifted truck, through the old oil stains, and nocks an arrow, putting her shoulder blade on the ground while she waits for them to clear the side of the car.

It's a shitty angle, but the first wolf gets an arrow in the throat all the same.

[armd]

She's glad Clarisse laughs at the jacket wearing dog too cuz she laughed so hard when she saw it she almost cried, and the owner definitely saw her doing it and definitely got offended. It just looked so weird.

Stowing her phone back in her pocket, she grins. "Okay." Yeah, she's into that. For now, she's settling back into this couch, sinking into the cushions with a sigh.

For some reason, the phone likes to tell her how many steps she's walked. Abby did... so many of them today. She's looking forward to a quiet evening. She tries not to sound too whiny when she says, "Can we get them to bring the pizza to us? I don't wanna go back out there."

[illithidnapped]

You won't.

[The vampire behind him cuts in, watching without blinking as Leto's unburdened fingers wind cloth around hanging nails (it's the first time anyone has ever done something for him like this: vampires protect space for themselves, and all the mortals he'd ever met before Thedas— ) that hardlined edge to his voice a sign that there's nothing about this he isn't taking with utterly lethal sincerity.

And unideal as distance is to a chest filled to the brim with longing, Astarion's not about to loiter uselessly in the middle of the room while he's rife with ruddy mess. A few short strides is all it takes to deposit him across the edge of a nearby mattress: torn shirt tugged off completely, used to wring the blood from his hair— wipe it from his face, his skin— leaving behind flaky little streaks of dried red; stripes of half-scrubbed pink surrounded by palest white. Starspot moles. Boots next, and when all that's done he pulls dark silk around his thumb to fidget for a moment, fixating on his own thoughts, rather than the moon elf he can't close his eyes to for a second.

So sensation, then. Like a tuning fork or a metronome before a song. Pulling him towards the zenith of all his dread. What he hates discussing.

And never stops thinking about.]

If he'd had any idea I was here, I doubt you would've found so much as a scrap of my existence before now— let alone crossed my path tonight. [Thank the gods it was only Leto's poking about that led to this mess, not the stretching reach of something far older and more insatiable than either of them.]

So he can't be tracking me yet, and he certainly doesn't know that I've returned.

[The best place to hide something is under one's nose, as the saying goes. Though—

ah.]

Let's hope tonight's commotion doesn't happen to pique his interest.

[Still, Astarion doubts it. Those spawn didn't seem like the sort his master keeps— too feral. Too mindless, and yet free to roam. To run. Say what you will about him, but Cazador would never gift something so valuable as that to near-beastly assets.

....they'd be more fun to torture.]

He resides here in the City, but his manor lies farther towards the outskirts. [And no: he loves you, Leto, but he won't tell you where.] I try to steer clear of it, but there might be a little more luck in it for us in that he doesn't care much for refuse; in places like this, we're virtually invisible so long as we avoid the depths of his spiderwebbed assets. You'll want to worry more about his numerous allies tipping him off— and that means no more talk about my erm, affliction, shall we say, while in public.

Before, all your nosing about probably seemed like just another monster hunter tracking prey. Now that we're together, well. [Well.] Anyone that serves him will think you're on my side. Anyone that fears monsters might think you're an accomplice— or an unwitting obstacle. The best thing either of us can manage right now is to keep our heads down and our mouths shut. And like I said: he can't be able to sense or control me if he hasn't utilized either yet.

The man never could resist flexing all that power.

[A sharpened scoff, just before crimson eyes lift beneath lowered brows:]

And without your lyrium, you're as much a threat to him as a kitten is to a chimera.

Until you master your new body and its peculiarities, you'll be even less of one than that.

[elegiaque]

“They like to have their own measurements,” is a confirmation, and then in an aside to the staff: “We would like to see accessories as well, please. Give us a range of shoe sizes and we'll just try those, I think.”

Spare him having his feet measured, at least, that's somehow always so much more undignified than an inseam.

[heorte]

Though there is something to be said for the indignity of such concentrated attention being paid to the inseam. It's professional, perfunctory, and transitions briskly to the next, but still.

Ellis' eyes find her in the mirror, a moment's scrutiny breaking as his gaze flicks up and away.

Is he meant to be entertaining her beyond the obvious entertainment value inherent in his present predicament?

"This isn't permanent."

True to form, there is no specific tenor of apprehension in the statement. But it can be extrapolated, when set against all the rest of this outing. It's a cautioning word, yes, but it's also a minor form of wishful thinking. They won't be here forever. What comes next may likely be less fraught.

Or he can hope, anyway.

[cozen]

Bastien nods with a slow and uneven rhythm, silent uncertainty; he only very vaguely recalls hearing something about it in the sea of overwhelming new information and his confusion of his own apparent death, but he's following the thread anyway.

"For the Venatori."

Right?

"They'd been captured."

[cozen]

"It is very strange," Bastien agrees, in the tone of someone who considers strange a compliment, most of the time. "But not magic. It's electricity and—things. Things anyone could build, if they learned how."

He spares another glance at the unconscious man on the street, which turns into a longer look. He steps over to turn him onto his back and make sure he's breathing, while he continues:

"I hope you've arranged for someone to be able to know if something happens to you. If you are out here alone and not using your phone," as smoothly as if he'd been raised saying it, "it might take us a long time to realize you have gone missing or been injured or something."

[cozen]

Bastien's laugh bounces off the smooth stone walls of the corridor, joining the muted cacophony of the echoing footsteps and voices of the dozen other people ahead and behind them. He twirls his pamphlet hand out to one side and ducks his head down in a walking bow.

"Our finest moment," he says, "ever, in the history of moments—"

A turn, some short steps. Behind heavy wooden doors is the room he was hoping for: a great open chamber, ringed by two stories of bookshelves with a railed walkway to reach the higher ones, row after row of polished wooden tables dotted with reading lamps, arched windows to let light stream in, clouds painted on the ceiling, and in the midst all of this finery people dressed as no one in particular, who walked in just like they did, searching the shelves or sitting with open books at the tables. The few people speaking are doing it in the same quiet murmur due to Chantry altars.

Bastien stops walking, the smile he carried in muting to pastel. The people walking in behind them have to go around. Where his arm has been hooked to haul Ellis along, his hand drops to grab hold of Ellis' hand instead.

He's behaved so far. Respected the boundaries of people he knows and cares about, if not everyone. Avoided snooping without warning that he could. But keeping their feelings out takes more effort than not, and Bastien—hoping for nothing more than proof Ellis is impressed—stops making it.

[notathreat]

Ellie can see the fine tremor in her hands as Abby grips the prybar with her, squeezes down tight on the metal. Her own palms are a little sweaty, and they slip a touch as they pop the lid up.

Pushing back the lid, they find flasks of cold, clear water, and Ellie hefts one out, passing it to Abby before she appropriates one for herself, sniffs before taking a drink.

"Most sane people wouldn't think of this as a bridge," Ellie mutters, tapping her fingertips on the edge of the barrel before she asks the question Abby must know is coming.

"Whose?"

She remembers the bloody tabletop, the gauze and the bandages and the antiseptic smell. What she hadn't remembered was someone with a missing limb. Lev, and Owen, and Mel. Those had been the people at the aquarium.

Who didn't make it?

[notathreat]

See, Ellie would be able to write off religion entirely if they didn't sometimes bust out texts like that. It makes her wish she could believe in something enough to be comforted by it.

"I think that's what Dina likes about praying. She doesn't expect anything, she's not asking for it. It's just. Comforting."

Ellie rubs her thumb over the hamsa, like a worry stone. The familiar bumps and grooves of the metal, beads and leather rub over her skin, and it's like a prayer in itself. So is Derrica's braided leather, right next to it.

She sits and listens and wishes that everything else that people have told her about God or the Maker made as much sense as the things Mobius says. The things he talk about feel true. They feel right. They ask for a different kind faith.

Her thumb's still stroking slowly over the silver beads, spinning them where they're threaded through the leather when it falls into place, and Ellie gives Mobius a slow nod.

I want faith through pain, she wrote, once upon a time.

"I guess people have always made it sound like faith is this... perfect thing."

[notathreat]

It does sound weird coming out of Clarisse's mouth, like it's something she heard someone else say, and Ellie pauses to wipe ranch off her lower lip with her thumb, eyeing her up.

"Huh. I guess I never thought of food as like... art."

There's a new door unlocked. Even if it seems stupid on the surface, it's something to think over. Food that's just to stay alive is one thing, food just to enjoy the taste is another. The idea of aesthetics is new.

"I'm kind of amazed, actually. There's a lot more people making art here. Like the music alone is mindblowing."

writes too many words

[heorte]

The flicker of surprise at the shift in contact comes and goes, barely muddying any first impression. Bastien is, apparently, as entitled to the clasp of hands as he had been to the hook of arms. Ellis' hand is still cold; he had been provided with buttery-soft leather gloves because the attendants at the stores Gwenaëlle selected had been thorough, but said gloves had been left on a table, perhaps still in their tissue-paper packaging. Bastien's hands are warm, and Ellis sees no reason to break his grip as they stand together, looking at the opulence of the room and all things collected inside it.

And so Bastien is entitled to the pulse-beat of emotion rising to meet him from Ellis' palm, as long as he cares to observe it.

It is not unlike dipping fingers into an ocean-fed lake. The impression of stillness at that first touch, placid and calm. Quiet. Bastien's touch sends out ripples. Stirs silt up to meet the clasp of his hand.

Here, the closest to the surface, easily marked: yes, Ellis is impressed. And he is uncomfortable still, though the discomfort quiets in this space where the grandeur is more humble, born of communal wealth rather than the flex of individually amassed power. Curiosity, rising like a small wave to eddy along, gathering strength as Ellis' eyes observe the shelves, colored by eagerness held in check.

Deeper currents flex and billow beneath. Old, strong, unswerving. The kind of current that drags and drowns, unaffected by the rippling along the surface.

I'm only tired, he had told Wysteria. It is not untrue. It is here at hand, if Bastien delves far enough, a deep, miserable exhaustion churning low within him. This undertow which has measured out mortality and observed how it stretches out endlessly, how the possibility of abrupt endings have been closed off to him once, twice in so many months. Old pains weaving through deep-set currents spinning off in their well-worn tracts, run alongside these core parts of him, things carried always: weariness and stubbornness and worry all wound together, ribboning and unspooling but easily followed, even as they weave around some warmer feeling, truncated and contained, and loop back to meet—

"Will you move?" is posed as a question but so sharply that it cannot be mistaken for anything other than a demand from the lanky man behind them. Ellis' grip tightens on Bastien's hand, draws him a few steps to one-side without hesitation or rejoinder. So held, Bastien is privy to the mist-spray of disapproval, how quickly it dissipates as Ellis asks, "Where do you want to begin?"

There are many shelves. Ellis, for all his undeniable investment beneath the staid expression on his face, has no grasp of the layout, or what they might find. Bastien might choose at random. Ellis will be easily contented by whatever they come across.

[portalling]

“Alright,” Strange says.

He’s not gonna judge. Do no harm is a law that falls apart quickly at the application of any weight or pressure; his first kill had sickened him, had left him literally nauseous, but defending Earth had asked for more and more of it. Morality became tangled, grew complicated. He’s never had to level off his fingers after a human being bit them off, so who’s he to say anything about what Ellie had or hadn’t done?

“You told me what this place was like, but I didn’t really…” He tapers off a little. “It was a thought experiment in my world. It was fiction. What would you do in a zombie apocalypse, what sorts of skills would you have. I’m glad to see that mankind still ekes out some kind of existence when it does come to pass, though.”

He wants to say I’m sorry you grew up like this, but that feels distasteful; Strange is hyper-sensitive to pity, doesn’t want to dole it out himself. So he settles for saying something honest instead:

“If this is a shitty question, feel free to skip it, but are there still happy memories in this sort of place? Times when it’s peaceful and you don’t feel like you’re going to die any moment? Or is it mostly hell?”

[favoriteanalyst]

"If people ever tell you faith is easy or that it isn't hard work, then I'm not convinced they actually have faith." What they've got is indoctrination, and that's a not-unfair argument when it comes to the Chantry. Not an argument he wants to have right now.

"It's work. It's work to figure out what you believe in, and it's work to believe, and it's work to check in and see if that's what you still believe or if you need to tweak your worldview. Maker knows I've changed my tune as I grew up and learned more. It's work to understand that belief and faith alone won't fix your problems. It's work to keep yourself from being angry that it won't fix your problems. It's not perfect. But there's aspects of it that can feel blissful.

"And in some cases, faith turns into a physical aspect. Templars," said with a hesitant wariness, knowing that's a point of contention, "and Seekers, they use their faith to channel energy to do the things they do. That also takes work."

There's no point where there's no work, but there are points where it feels effortless. At least, that's how it seems to him. But perfect? Maker. Never. Not ever.

"It doesn't ever have to be like what they do." The cultists. "It doesn't have to be like what anyone else does."

[laruetheday]

"Lot more people here, period."

Plus, it's easy to make art when you're not worried about where your next meal's coming from, or waiting for one of your buddies to turn into a zombie and bite your face off.

Clarisse obviously doesn't know what that's like from personal experience, but she knows a lot more of the kids at camp wrote music and painted and built things when they were there and had the time to relax. Every time she was on a quest, or even just taking a day trip into the city, it was like nonstop movement. She never had time to stop and just look at cool things, or think about creating her own.

Not that she would have anyway, but... still.

"You should definitely see some concerts, though," she adds, since Ellie is right about the music. "While you're here." And New York City is a good place to be if you're looking for live music.