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.
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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

[sprent]

It is impressive, isn't it! Don't worry; she's figured out that her usual skirts and dresses don't work out if you are going to fall slowly through the air. A parachute situation occurs. So she is wearing culottes, and you're welcome.

Once she's back on the ground, she has to think, bobbing slightly where she is, like a displaced helium balloon. "Oh, I don't..."

Hold on! Let her test. Obviously he was the right person to come to about all of this, because he is already asking questions Gela hadn't thought about. She goes up again, and comes down, thinking hard, deliberately trying to make herself fall faster, but she descends at the same, gentle rate: a leaf falling from a tree.

"No," is her conclusion, hands going to her hips, "It just happens, I suppose. I tried to make myself fall faster just now.

Do you know what's happenin'?"

[notathreat]

"Good way to build up your ass muscles, I guess."

Ellie flashes a smile, gesturing for Abby to keep that bottle, and looks wearily up at the sky bridge stretching out into the fog.

She has questions and they've all got shitty answers, probably.

"I'll stick close to you when we're going across," she says, suddenly.

It's the only way she can really bring herself to explain that she gets it, and that she'll be there for her. Just the way she was on the cliffs.

[notathreat]

"So... having a baby would technically be... what's that thing they used to have on the DVDS. Criminal copyright infringement?"

Hey Cosima, what the fuck.

But Ellie's kind of fascinated, even if it's rude. They're waist-deep in it now, she's going to ask the weird questions.

"Man, if we ever get a lawyer coming through the rifts, we have to ask them."

[notathreat]

Ellie presses her lips together, purses them, blows out air.

"So bigger than a Bloater," she says, because the amount of Yikes in that statement is monumental.

[armd]

She is not above chuckling when Ellie says the word 'ass'. Yeah, that's one way to look at it. The last bottle goes into her bag, and a little rattle of the barrel produces only the gentle clink clink of glass shards, instead of anything else heavy rolling about inside. Good to go.

Ellie speaks suddenly over the slow pull of a zip, and Abby breathes out, stares at a little hole in the canvas of the pack, rubbing it with her thumb in lieu of looking up.

"Thanks," she grunts. It's... actually a big relief to hear that? Not a lot of people understand what she's like when heights get involved, and she's loathing the idea of them finding out. At least Ellie gets it. Will keep an eye on her. "Appreciate it."

For now though... "Let's keep moving."

There's gotta be more stuff up here. And they probably shouldn't stop in one place for too long anyway, Seraphites are using the bridges 'all the time' according to Lev.

[notathreat]

Ellie plants the stock of her hunting rifle against her shoulder and leans into it, and the three bullets rip into it, barely slow it down. She swears as the stalker starts to rip itself apart from the rest of the Rat King, backing up and backing up, fumbling more bullets into the chamber by touch, following the movement more than the sight of it.

Her vision's fucked from the mask and the flamethrower and the bombs, but her focus narrows down on it, singular as she races after it.

"I've got eyes!" Ellie shouts as she takes aim, fires. The gun cracks loudly, and the bullet takes the stalker in the shoulder, nearly spinning it all the way around, but it doesn't fall. Instead it darts behind a cluster of cars, and Ellie swears again, wide-eyed.

She knows better than to split from the group, but she watches the shadows, guarding.

Meanwhile, the Rat King itself has had more than enough of this shit.

It charges first at Ellis, faster than anything its size should ever be able to go, a swinging backhand thick as a tree trunk, and a deafening roar to go with it.

[heorte]

"We're not getting caught," is Ellis' only contribution, made is an undertone.

He's fallen back to what feels like a respectful distance, so who can say whether anyone else has heard or if it's a resolution solely for his own benefit?

Either way, two pairs of eyes have swung in their direction. There's a flickering of curiosity, the kind that may or may not translate into an initiated conversation. May or may not include questions. Ellis' attention shifts to Wysteria, trying to gauge whether or not they should be picking up the pace. He can't very well set the speed of their walk from his present position, supposedly deferential at the rear of their party.

[katabasis]

That should be natural too, the balance of a sword nearly as familiar to his palm as line or helm. But even here, some immeasurable distance removed from the Arlathan's influence, his reflexes are slow—clumsy—something instinctive cut out of him. Don't tell that to the sword he still wears at his hip, but there is a reason he now travels in possession of a hand crossbow more often than he doesn't. For all Gwenaëlle's efforts, it's not been easy to make a blade intimate with his arm again.

(Rutyer might best him these days.)

(That's not the point of the question John's posing, surely.)

There is some restless tenor to the cant of Flint's temple—not the through the nose exhale of having become weary of the subject entirely, merely impatient and maybe displeased with his own answers and the fact that they've produced so little specificity in return.

"The theory."

But they both know that isn't the same thing.

[elegiaque]

Whatever she might have said to the question as it stood is derailed, somewhat, by her open bewilderment at where it goes—

“What?”

Gwenaëlle doesn't look offended, or particularly unwilling to engage; it isn't bristling so much as a habitual pedant's confusion. Philosophically, she might have contemplated what specifically she wants out of being alive, but the framing narrows her down to dead, alive, or...? in a way that she can't help but take literally.

“I think those are the options,” is a little dubious.

[hornswoggle]

"I should make myself more available to you," is a glancing remark, off the cuff. A minor acknowledgement of something to be done in the future; it might have followed after any morning or evening's discussion of how they might arrange their shared tasks.

It is not quite aligned with the conversation at hand, what John is circling and needling his way towards.

In fairness, John is thinking the whole of it through himself, as Flint gives up answers readily to each question posed.

"Do you imagine you'll rely on your newly acquired skill, when we must rote our quarry in that alley?"

There's no reason to pretend the evening's work is going to be resolved quietly.

[notathreat]

Ellie's told Gela about the farm. About living with someone she loved, about her baby. About how they were safe, now. Back where they'd be around people.

But she hasn't told her about Joel.

Ellie listens to Gela paint a picture of her mother and lets her mind drift, looking at the see-through wings. There are no fireflies. They're not endangered here.

"I met Joel when I was fourteen," Ellie says softly. "I didn't... have a family before that."

Typical QZ orphan, she'd said. No siblings, no family.

"I had him, though. And he brought me to a place like this, for my birthday. It was just ruins, but- we saw the dinosaurs. The models of the planets, the space suits. I loved it."

Ellie licks her lower lip, slowly.

"He was murdered," she says softly. "Um... a few years ago? I was there."

A few words, saying a lot.

"... I'd rather remember him like this, though."

[laruetheday]

Clarisse considers this, then reaches out to shake Gela's offered hand. "Deal. For now." She makes no promises for when they're back on solid ground.

That settled, she shakes out her shoulders and nods. "Ready when you are."

If she was working hard not to look like a wuss before Gela found out she's a demigod, now she's really trying.

[heirring]

They are keeping along at this clip, apparently—not exactly hurried, she hopes. More striding very confidently toward some place or another, conducting official business that no one need question. At the very least, Wysteria's transparent poker face—the part where she glances at the pair of passerby in alarm—hopefully equates to the correct kind of anxious.

That pair of eyes lingers as they pass, considering the trio cutting along the shadowed walk to the heavy door leading into the College proper. But perhaps Tony's borrowed jacket and pins is sufficient to temper their curiosity, or maybe they're just in the midst of their own confidential conniving for the looks don't materialize into further acknowledgement. Wysteria forces herself not to look back at them, though she can feel sweat prickling at the nape of her neck and is distantly aware of a dreadful feeling in the very pit of her stomach.

And then, all at once, the three of them arrive at the door and pass out of the temperate night air into the College itself.

This is by no means the formal entrance to the institution, but neither is it entirely lacking in grandeur. They pass first through the exterior door, then across to a second interior door and finally into a hall whose lavishness is made more obscene for the fact that it must be so subsidiary to other rooms in the great building. Its polished stone floor and slew of windows banks reflect the glow of the arcane lights tethered like chandeliers above them amidst the complicated vaults of the ceiling; a great oil of a golden landscape marks the end of the corridor somewhere ahead of them, and a series of dark wooden benches flank either side of the hall.

It is, mercifully, empty.

Wysteria tightens the space between herself and Tony so she may hiss directions more effectively at him: "—take a left at the corridor's end, and then through the two subsequent rooms, then a right and up the back stairwell. We're looking for the fourth floor—"

And so on. No, no one is getting caught.

[sprent]

They are wandering slowly, talking softly. There aren't as many people in this part of the museum, and possibly because nothing is especially interactive children choose to gather elsewhere, tugging their parents and friends along. It's a good place to have this kind of conversation, even though it's horrible.

Murdered, and Ellie there to see.

Gela feels a great rush of sadness wash over her, her eyes blurring hotly.

"I'm sorry," she says simply. She doesn't know what else to say. She's staring at another blown up photograph, and she lifts her fingers to the corners of her eyes, wiping. A sigh. She scratches the bridge of her nose, "That's sad.

What was he like?"

They weren't family before, and then they were. That must be some story.

[armd]

"You can have the adrenaline if you want," Abby offers, waggling the injector at her, "It'll definitely make you feel different for a couple hours." You know, if the 'feeling different' you're after is 'feeling like you're gonna die'. Could be interesting.

But she tosses Clarisse the medical tape without any fuss.

"Looks like you're used to patching yourself up?" Respect.

[armd]

"Thanks." Even though she undercut it right at the end there, but Abby can kinda see past that bluster and pomp now, it's just a thing that Clarisse says. Almost like a nickname? Pretty sure she means it affectionately.

She checks the chamber of the shotgun. "Oh, shit." Fully loaded, nice. "Keep an eye out for any shotgun ammo." But this is coming with her... it's a good find. If Clarisse is going to take upstairs, Abby will linger around this level, and reluctantly give the skeleton a pat down past the bony hips, to make sure nothing was kept in between the cracks of the armchair.

Nothing. Sure is gross though. She calls, "I didn't miss this smell!" And moves over to inspect the rest of the living room, pawing through shelves.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Reilly giggles like she's just told him a joke, but mostly because he's in on it, knows she's not annoyed with him at all. Apparently this is a very familiar tactic used by the adults around him. There's not a trace of hesitation.

"Yes, right now!" he says excitedly, and fumbles in his coat pocket for a very official-looking small spiral notebook and a pen. He clears his throat, tapping the end of it to his chin contemplatively.

"Are you from earth, or from an alien planet? What year is it there? Are there shifters? If you had to describe how your world is different from ours, how would you explain it?"

He does pause between each question to write down her answers, though, wide-eyed and listening intently in between. Hold for followup questions.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Jude goes quiet as he listens, slotting pieces into place, aching for it. He was there to hear the talks, the arguments, the way people went back and forth. Yelling, insulting, arguing the way they do when they have skin in the game and cannot remove their feelings from it.

It's not the first time he's wondered what Adrianna would think.

"There were a lot more Ghosts before the Accords," he says softly, thoughtfully. "My generation's the first to live with them. The Shifter courts, the laws. The agreements with the human government. The agreements between Shifters of different types. The agreement to govern ourselves."

It's imperfect, as the Ghost Mountain Pack so recently proved, but he can't pass up the thought.

Adrianna would want to talk to him.

"You should speak with our alpha," Jude says quietly. "She helped write them. I could take you to her."

[armd]

Whewf, good thing they've made it to the blanket drop-off.

Abby takes everything out of Reilly's arms to free him up for his notebook to come out, pen poised at the ready. May as well answer all these questions as they're heading back for the next lot...

Easy first question, at least. "I'm from earth. Year was 2038. No shifters- or, if there are any, I haven't noticed them? But I'm pretty sure there aren't any, I would have heard about it otherwise."

This next bit. She glances at him, sizing him up, remembering his age. Decides fuck it, ploughing ahead, "Before I was born, my world had an outbreak of a fungal parasite that ended up killing a lot of people. Been about twenty... five, six years since it started?" Something like that. "So yeah, that makes it pretty different. But people are rebuilding, trying to live life the way we used to before everything went to shit."

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Reilly scribbles as she answer, tilting his head like a wolf puppy as he looks back up to her, hair falling into his eyes as he squints.

"So before you were born?" he asks as they start walking back. No slacking. They're moving a bunch of stumps today and they need the stronger folks for it; even wolves have trouble with these!

"I'm not so good at adult ages yet," Reilly admits as they come to the stumps, and one of the larger, hairier men tosses a couple of the dead stumps their way; they'll need to take them over to the firewood collection to be processed. "But you don't look that old."

[katabasis]

"I certainly intend to consider the benefits of its use," is not the same thing as being reliant on the thing. Nevermind that when spoken aloud, it sounds a little like an important insistence over semantics.

"It is a tool," he says, his ring studded hand at last moving back up across the edge of the table so as to fetch the cup back. "I expect we will both use whatever is at our disposal and the most rational to see that our efforts here don't go to waste."

There isn't much wine left in the bottom of the cup. He drains it directly.

[favoriteanalyst]

The wolf inside him wants to howl (and see who howls back in return), to take off running wild and free into the evening until everything is spent.

Mobius moves forward like he's going to pounce onto Jude and shift right there. Stops himself. Takes a breath. Reels it back, back, back. Stamps a foot once, twice, like he can physically steady himself of all the restless exhilaration. His heart is beating hard. He can actually hear it in his ears now that the outside has been dimmed to him.

"What," a little breathless, "what does that mean? Is that like you?" But it's not. Not the same. Close, maybe?

[favoriteanalyst]

He nods his thanks. The obvious storefronts have been picked through years ago, but there's always something. In the overlooked places.

"Depends on your definition," he muses. "Of fought. Honestly, the demons and spirits that come out of the rifts are some of the strangest things. They don't have any rules that govern their form. They can appear however they want to appear. You get variations on a theme, generally. But they get freaky. I've seen vampire lords and red lyrium encrusted knights." He shakes his head. "Haven't fought them." And one of those was kind of a dreamscape anyway. "Can't say I've faced anything like tentacle eyeballs. Or anything quite like what your mansion threw at us."

[hornswoggle]

A passing, stubborn flex of expression meets the descriptor. The kind of thing that might preface a contradiction, though one doesn't materialize in the moment.

Telling, perhaps, of how John might identify the thing were he ever to speak openly of it beyond the moments they have been closed into conversation.

Here, within this attic, the semantics of the dream winding round them counterbalances the necessity of trying to pin down the language. It is isn't a tool would be more suited to any of their circling conversations held on the slanting deck of the Walrus or secure behind the door of his office or cushioned in the quiet of the road.

But this is a fleeting condition. It is a tool here, one that will be laid aside once they emerge from the Fade.

"Don't overextend," is all that comes of these considerations, as John leans to grasp for his crutch. A borrowed thing too; had Flint not said as much to John once, with the flat of his blade at John's shoulder?

[laruetheday]

Clarisse is still making a face at the adrenaline even as she holds out her good hand and catches the tape. Being a mortal must be crazy. Food allergies, colds and flus, ear infections... Fucking wild.

"Yeah. I used to get in fights a lot, and then later we were at war, so skirmishes and raids and all. It's not always worth it to go right for the ambrosia and nectar." She starts unrolling the tape, frowning as she realizes she's not going to be able to hold it and cut it at the same time. She looks to Abby for an assist.