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

[notathreat]

Ellie winces at the question, knowing immediately that she phrased it like an asshole. Apparently the emotional maturity likes to abruptly cut out sometimes, usually at the worst possible moments.

Derrica knows that it's not meant to slight her, but emotions are high and everyone's feeling vulnerable, going without sleep and food. It's been a shitty time.

"Because I don't want you to have to get used to this fucking place," Ellie says, still phrasing it roughly, but hopefully it gets the point across. "And if it had been you in the other room and not me, if you'd been bitten instead-"

Ellie pauses, and there's a slip there, a crack. Just a touch of that fear and fatigue and lingering panic that Derrica might have expected from the wound itself. From what she'd just gone through.

"You or any of the others." It's a pit in her stomach. "I don't wanna think about it."

[favoriteanalyst]

...No. No, that isn't comforting in the slightest. "Happy haunts," he repeats, having no idea that that's a reference to anything at all. "At least until something realizes we're poking around and becomes much less happy."

When the spirits turn on them because they're looking for this place's magic rock. But. That's for later, perhaps.

[degenere]

I am also interested, [with indignation,] and I struggle with nothing at all. In fact I am perfectly, perfectly--with such perfection am I capable of, be-have-ving--

[Each syllable punched, very not Orlesian--indeed this is the little affect he might use to imitate Wysteria herself, when the occasion presents itself. Val quits rubbing at his arm and makes a grand gesture toward the stairs.]

Lead on, mademoiselle. I will say no word more unless asked to do so, or unless the situation becomes so intolerable or interesting that I cannot help myself from speaking, but if this is all as commonplace as you have said--the May-jer, the dress, the little lapel pin of great importance--so perhaps this is not so commonplace, yes?--but I am not speaking of that now! I am not speaking at all. Beginning, [one finger up, and then he points. Now. And also, onward.]

[notathreat]

Ellie listens in wide-eyed silence, because everything she says always sounds like science fiction. Facial recognition software. All of North America.

"What's the clone sickness?"

[altusimperius]

"Oh." He takes a moment to absorb this information, and seems to be thinking quite deeply about it, or at least as deeply as possible for one who's been out on the town doing what he has. When he finally speaks again, it's with careful gravitas:

"...what's funny about robes?"

[armd]

The fact that she even asks that has Abby nodding in response without pause. "Yeah." Not exactly an uncommon affliction where she's from. She confesses, "It's good to be away from the Gallows for a bit, actually. They've been really bad lately."

She means the collective ones that seem to be plaguing everybody.

two months later,

[cozen]

"I," Bastien says.

He is still holding onto Ellis' hand.

The thing is: of course he is not always as happy and buoyant as he acts. But the other thing: actually sometimes he is. Frequently, even. Weariness, impatience, offense, and the occasional bout of misery will come but then go again, without having ever really taken their shoes off and gotten comfortable. Even his mild fear and discomfort at being trapped in an unfamiliar world had been chased fully out of his chest at the sight of the books.

And another thing is, feeling someone feel something is not the same as feeling it. Perhaps only by degrees, the difference between being on fire and being heated by one—or, in this case, brought to a standstill by one, frozen by feelings-once-removed that would make him sit down, if they belonged to him, and wait for someone to come convince him he should move.

Fortunately, letting go is an easy thing. It doesn't take much. His fingers go loose, his hand swings free. He takes a breath.

"We can just walk the perimeter, I suppose," begins distant, but by the end he sounds more like himself. "Read the spines until something is—you know."

He aims a little smile up, sideways. His gaze is not searching. He was better trained than that. And free of the radiation of exhaustion and unhappiness, he does think, at least he's impressed.

Already beginning to walk, talented enough to ruminate and walk at the same time, he musters up something more decisive. "Up the stairs first. I like to be tall."

[notathreat]

Ellie learns a lot about him just by watching him react to this, and it would have been the takeaway even if he hadn't been good enough to explain out loud.

Mad and tried to kill everyone is a heavy thing to worry about in a you from somewhere else, though, and for the first time she wonders. There are surely universes where she took a different path. A much, much darker one.

Conversely, maybe she's the Ellie who took the darker path, and there's another her out there who settled on that sheep farm and never went to Seattle at all.

"Definitely there," she says with a wry smile. "So when you went to all these other alternate universes, you... went and found yourself in them? Shouldn't that break the space-time continuum or some shit like that?"

[notathreat]

Tony's right, of course, and at least there's that.

"Yeah," she sighs, tipping her head towards him, considering. "At least mine was cut and dry, because it really was between just us. It wasn't like a you-and-Loki situation, or even whatever the fuck Gabranth was dealing with."

Ellie stuffs the things into her backpack and away, then heads over to where Tony's poking at a thing on the floor. No spores, just regular gross.

"But then they show up here, and it's awkward as hell, because here they're just some guy."

Embarrassing.

[notathreat]

Okay, she only has one shot at this.

"So I'm at this gross flooded garage and all the doors are closed, and there's this whole layer of water on the floor. I'm up on the dry place, and there's this generator I need to use to get the door open.

"Of course, you know what happens every time you start up a generator, right?"

Pretty much nobody else is going to get this particular frustration, but Ellie knows what it is to wake an infestation.

hurray

[heorte]

So released, Ellis' hand closes in on itself. Forms a loose fist, before Ellis shakes his fingers out in a small, understated motion to mitigate the lost of contact.

It is a little touch, telegraphing familiarity. Bastien is given to them. They come easy, and they go easier.

Ellis trails behind him, up the marbled stairs. They are nearly of height. Ellis has a few inches on him, made more noticeable by how broad his shoulders are, all the muscle he carries. Observing Bastien as he is, the hitch in his rejoinder doesn't go unnoticed, only uninterrogated.

They are in a strange place. There is much to see. If Bastien's attention divides momentarily, Ellis can't fault him.

"Oh aye?" comes easily enough. "They have boots for that here. I saw them."

Platform boots, formidable even when viewed from a distance behind window glass. If it's height Bastien is after—

"Which way?" tacked on after, as they approach the landing.

[heirring]

"Oh!" is a hissed exclamation.

"Yes, exactly that. They will be too motivated to see it resolved to ask many questions. And if there are questions, they will likely all have very sensible answers. Well done, Mister Ellis. —Only don't mention an aviary, Mister Stark," she says, a hand returning to Tony's elbow almost immediately. Only here, it's to urge him up the stairs. "There isn't one."

Please. This is a place of serious arcane study.

[sprent]

Yes, let's both take a moment-

Before long Gela is panting, her eyes bright and wild. She says, "Oh my–" and spins Clarisse around by their tightly gripped hands, so that they can gaze out over everything.

This is what birds must feel like.

The wind is really whipping at her hair now, threatening to undo it from the tie, and it is significantly colder, it's... not very nice, actually. Gela doesn't think she'd like to be up here for much longer. She shouts, "I've never been this high up before! Anywhere!"

[youwonscience]

It's strange how it feels both closer and farther away in the ruins of what was one Seattle than in Thedas. (She wonders if that would be the same if she hadn't just been back.)

"So I mentioned that they purposely made it so we couldn't have kids. Turns out human beings are kind of complex. In doing that, they created a genetic illness. Hit in adulthood, eventually fatal, though not all of us got sick at the exact same time, so there were some environmental factors too." She runs her thumbnail over the plastic ridges of the bottle, lightly. "Basically, our immune systems started attacking our epithelial tissues, it's like ... the linings of your organs, among other things. So for me, I had pretty gross respiratory symptoms, the usual suspects of fatigue, queasiness, shortness of breath. A couple of seizures. Sorry, I don't want to get too gnarly on you."

[katabasis]

There is an echo of familiarity to this song and dance. A carousing public house, a woman with some measure of authority with whom one might wish to ingratiate themselves, a back room which requires the a specific kind of invitation in order to cross the threshold. Were the night not already so eventful (and maybe if the woman were a different sort of woman), the whole arrangement might inspire a certain measure of sentimentality.

Things being what they are, they are better occupations for their time.

A flick of ring-decked fingers as they duck past the edge of the tapestry suggests the available chair is John's if he care for it. There is a niche in the wall to the right and the cabinet built into it is that convenient height for propping oneself against if a man wished to strike the image of a particular version of comfortable. Turning back the edge of his coat, Flint settles naturally there.

"You must think you're very charming. Unless, of course, you have your log books hidden somewhere in that beard." This last part is for John.

[hornswoggle]

Here, the now-familiar calculation: the aches in his body alongside this woman's perceptions, how it would be read were he to stand, how it would be perceived were he to sit.

But in the end, John heeds that silent flick of fingers. By the time their host speaks, John has made himself comfortable as well.

"We have every faith in your ability to discern a promising opportunity when it arrives on your doorstep," John returns smoothly. "We may be new to these waters, but as I'm sure is evident, we are hardly novices."

They make a compelling picture, John is aware. The night's work has not made much mark on them, no, but the years of time invested in their profession have written themselves into each of them. There is currency there, telegraphed by the obviousness of their presentation.

"Care to make your own introduction, before we proceed in our attempts to charm you further?"

An invitation, maybe for the name she preferred than all the titles they (hadn't) heard.

[heirring]

[For a brief moment it looks very much like Wysteria is struggling to find some reason beyond the preservation of her own pride to punt them back down the stairs after all. And why shouldn't she? Except, of course, that she will then be forced to endure an even greater number of questions when she rejoins them.

No, says her withering (in the sense that she, personally, is withering; soon, she will be a mere featureless husk propped there in the corridor) expression. There is simply no use for it. So with a great sniff to avoid from emitting an even greater sigh, she wheels back around and resumes her death march.

At last, they arrive at the landing. At last, they reach the door. At last, Wysteria unlocks the heavy bolt and leads Bastien and Val through into the rooms beyond.]

Maejyr Ralston! Maejyr, I implore you to stay there in your chair! I will only be here for a short while. There is no reason at all to come and say hello, [she calls as they pass into the world's most cramped front hall. It is not cramped from a shortage of square footage, but rather from the shocking assortment of objects which seem eager to spill out into the landing after them.

Here is a coat rack overflowing with a dozen coats, and here is a pair of discarded men's boots which must be stepped over. A fabulous two-sided conversation chair is shoved up against the wall, blocking one of the seats entirely which might be a very funny joke if not for the fact that both cushions are so overflowing with books and papers and the various odds and ends that one naturally discards when they enter a house so as to render the whole piece of furniture utterly useless except perhaps as a shelving unit. There are stacks of newspapers and an even more formidable stack of luggage and a great mirror whose lead has begun to go spotty.

What there is not is a Maejyr, or an answer to their greeting. But an assortment of doors and a wide lintel leading further into the apartments suggests there must be more to the rooms than the crowded entry hall, so it's possible their host is only very shy—]

[propulsion]

[ Tony absorbs that to no reaction, at first, where it's a rare thing to be handed an apology when he wasn't first looking for one. Like realising you'd cut yourself well after the fact. Oh, yeah, that stings.

And is healed, hooray. ]

Thanks, [ is spoken clipped and fast and on a delay, but is also sincere. How nice it is, to be considered a whole person. ] You're fine.

And yeah I just [ robot suit whirs, softly, at the adjustment of his sit on steel edge ] don't think it would do anything for me. I want my memories of them to be the real deal, you know.

[ The squishy insides of his chest feel tense and frail, beneath all the metal. He nods a little, indicating a glittering city, its howls and cries, its lights. ]

This'll do me for a while.

[propulsion]

"Right?"

Poke-poke, before he leaves off of it.

"Me over here like some kind of idiot trying to convince people that the mild-mannered theatre kid in the corner was a raging psychopath who definitely tried to do a subjugation. Like, don't you know it's always the quiet ones?"

All rattled off with the ease of someone fairly confident they've seen the back of a person for good. Tony roams towards where there's a narrow staircase that winds off and up. There's a chain across it with a little sign that says STAFF ONLY, and tips a little at the waist to access the likelihood of rotted structures killing them in the attempt.

Flipping back a peel of carpeting. Looks like stone.

"But it's also a context thing," he adds, after a second. "Stakes, you know. This place doesn't feel like it lends itself well to the kind of dig-in teamwork we have to do back in the Gallows."

[propulsion]

"What? This place is so lame."

Okay okay he's going, Tony hopping up the next step before he starts up. Feels like there should be more planning happening, maybe, but he's used to a certain amount of reckless improvisation that he figures the kids will figure out the rest. As he clears the switchback corner, he adopts a more urgent step, and so once he hits the landing, he's convincingly out of breath.

Clapping eyes on the two fellows in the hallway, he gusts out a relieved sounding exhale, loud enough to reach Wysteria and Ellis below. And yes, of course he's doing an accent, and it's at least halfway competent as they hear him say:

You two! Thank goodness. Come with me, quickly. An intruder in the

um

downstairs, hurry now—

[luaithre]

Marcus listens with the sort of patience he possesses when he applies it, which is, borderline limitless. Finds himself engaging in the task of comparison, in finding what is the same and what is different, before he consciously stops himself from doing so and just listens. There will be time for that later.

A slouch forward, arms folded on knees, an almost meditative way of absorbing information as his gaze drifts elsewhere, off her kind face or the oddness of their surroundings. There, that angle of light falls in the same way it would back home, bright off polished wood and warm in the fibres of a rug.

Some things are so fundamentally the same, more powerfully so than the ways they are disparate.

"Back home," he says, rather than speaking to matters of polar bears and wolf-logic courts of justice, dragging his look up from the floor and back to Adrianna, "they know exactly how powerful we can be. Out of control or in."

Settles back in his seat.

"But we're in a state of change. There's a chance at shaping what it is, to be mages where we are, if only we could agree on a vision. Did all agree on one, in your history?"

[heorte]

Figuring out the rest means finding a suitable ambush point.

Easier said than done, perhaps. At first glance, Ellis had thought it easy, but now—

"Behind those drapes," is the hissed instruction for Wysteria. Yes, Ellis understands that two voices answered Tony, both full of confused concern. It is clear his intent is to flatten himself against the wall, trust the shadows and narrowed perception of the incoming guards to do the rest of the work necessary to secure the element of surprise for him.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

"No, they don't."

This is another point.

"Most shifters saw the wisdom in what we were trying to accomplish in order to secure our place in this world. They bought in, they abide by the Accords. But there are pockets of our kind who keep to the old ways, who don't recognize the authority of the agreement. Part of our responsibility as alphas is to ensure that even those who reject the Accords entirely are still our responsibility.

"There are many smaller packs within Yellowstone territory, even some unknown to us, and we let them be, unless they violate the Accords and harm humans. Or their own. But if they do, then it is my responsibility to see it handled."

Adrianna says it quietly, but in that quiet is a very particular type of hard-won strength -- this is a woman who has seen true war, who has done what is necessary to secure the future of her people. Who will do so again without flinching.

"The Accords meant that some of our culture progressed as well. Abuse of submissive shifters is no longer tolerated in any capacity, but it's now a crime to purposefully commit harm that way, among other things. Dominance battles no longer end with killing, unless it becomes necessary for self-defense. Perhaps there are similar practices or rituals among your people you want to outlaw or alter. Now is the time to think about those."

[katabasis]

"I think it's best that we stick with Madame Kask for the time being, don't you?"

They are not so far removed from the main portions of the house; the music clanging on the various stages, relatively insulated from one another, melt into a dull shared jumble here—muffled and atonal. A distant drumming thunder, a tinny crash of symbol lightning.

(Somewhere in the house, a pantomime playa out of three scantily clad sailors struggle to balance on a little prop boat being see-sawed aggressively up and down by even more lightly dressed performers barely decked in various shades of blue and and the gleaming approximation of fish scales—)

Here, in the room, Flint studies John and then the woman behind the desk. It is therefore not without some consideration that.he says, "We've heard you have at your disposal a way into the Undercity."

[heirring]

Wysteria hops too promptly, her hand reaching automatically for— well, for her field knife which isn't at her belt, for she isn't wearing a belt, now is she? This unarmed (Gods, she ought to have fetched up a candlestick or something for bludgeoning while they passed through all those balls previous), she secrets herself in behind one of the heavy drapes shrouding the stairwell's considerably large window.

The view afforded from it is spectacular: the dark lawn lit up by strings of captured arcane fire flowing cheerfully off the pale canvas of exhibition tents and casting in lovely warm hues the grat assortment of people and the riot of colors they've all donned as they make their way about the gardens and the dance floors and along the walkways between various tents. Hopefully, shrouded in her dark curtain against the light of the corridor, she is not too visible to much of anyone up there in that upper floor.

—Not that there is really so loud to consider the prospect, for here comes the stamp of footsteps.