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]

Clarisse's curled, linked fingers have no business feeling so good pressed in at the small of her back like that, feeling like she's anchoring her there. It's more than she asked for; but Clarisse seems like she's always giving Ellie the things she wanted but didn't think she had any right to.

Hell, maybe she needs them too. Fuck, maybe she needed to held just as much as she needed to be kissed.

Ellie reaches up to wind her arms around Clarisse's shoulders and ease in close, splaying her fingers along the nape of her neck, rubbing there with the side of her thumb.

Feeling her relax is so gratifying.

The kiss is soft, and Ellie makes it softer, because the rest of the world is harsh. She opens up to let Clarisse taste her, eases in close until they're sharing their air with every breath, and the tension ebbs away bit by bit.

It's okay. They're okay.

[laruetheday]

It's soft and slow, and Clarisse feels like she's drunk on Ellie, melting into the warmth of her. Everything blurs except for Ellie's mouth on hers, and Ellie's fingers pressed to the back of her neck, her thumb rubbing gently up and down, up and down.

For the first time since they got here, she's truly upset about the lack of usable beds around.

It's not even because she's horny. (She is horny, but that isn't the point.) Really, she just wants to lie next to Ellie and press their bodies against each other and make out with her for, like, an entire day.

At some point, she presses her forehead against Ellie's and closes her eyes. Just gonna stay like that for a minute.

[notathreat]

It goes on long enough to wring a good bit of the tension out of Ellie's shoulders, long enough for her to lose track of time. It was like that on the roof too, like she lost track of all of her thoughts. At the time, she'd thought it was because she was high.

Shit, maybe it's just Clarisse.

Ellie's steady against her, the two of them sharing their air, and it should be- awkward, or urgent, like the heat in the baths. She should feel the need to do something, to be something. Instead it's a low, slow burn.

Eyes half open, Ellie curls her fingers into the soft strands of hair at the nape of Clarisse's neck. They both just breathe.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse isn't sure how long they stay like that, pressed together, quiet aside from the soft sound of their breathing. She wants to stay in this moment, not thinking, just breathing in Ellie's air and holding her steady and feeling her fingers curl into her hair.

But eventually she opens her eyes and murmurs, "People are going to worry if we don't get back."

She sounds resigned, a little sad about it, and gives Ellie one more soft kiss on the lips.

[notathreat]

"Probably."

Ellie takes a deep breath, lets it out, and leans in for that last kiss. She lingers a second, has to make herself pull away. Her hands are still warm, and so are her lips.

She heads over to the door, putting one hand on it, looking back.

"Thanks," she says thoughtfully, tilting her head. "I needed that."

Ellie might've said more, but a movement catches her eye through the spored-occluded window, and Ellie catches her breath, goes silent as she ducks back.

"... WLF patrol," she murmurs. God, they're coming closer every day.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse is about to make some snarky comment about Ellie thanking her when they're interrupted. She takes a step back, ducking away from the window.

"Shit."

This is not the first Clarisse has heard of WLF, but she's been lucky enough not to run into any of them since they arrived in Seattle. She rests a hand on the gun tucked into her belt and looks to Ellie.

"How do we handle these guys?" she asks in a low voice.

[notathreat]

"They kill trespassers on sight," Ellie says grimly, her voice a whisper. "We either sneak past them, or kill them before they kill us."

There are four of them. They're outnumbered and outgunned. But Ellie's faced far worse odds with far less backup. Sure, she's scared for Clarisse. She's always scared for anyone she's with. But she's had a lot of practice managing that fear, and a recent reminder that Clarisse is just as capable as she is.

Ellie draws her gun, readies herself. Outside, they're finding the bodies of the infected. Ellie and Clarisse's footprints will come soon after.

Ellie waits for the nod, but as soon as she gets it, she ducks behind the metal door, pushes it open with her shoulder, and the Wolf closest to them catches a bullet in the face. The others scatter, yelling.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse doesn't get a great look at any of them, but the little she manages makes her feel some type of way. They're all a lot younger than she was picturing in her head, that's all—they don't look a whole lot older than Clarisse. In some alternate universe, they could be her brothers.

Maybe she'll unpack this later.

She follows Ellie out and slides behind one of the dilapidated pumps, gun out, ready for a sign of movement from one of the hidden soldiers. There are plenty of places to hide behind, but the problem is that not many of them provide full body coverage, so sure enough she can see one of the guys leaning out to one side near a dumpster, aiming in the direction Ellie's gone.

Ranged weapons have never exactly been Clarisse's first choice, but she's competent with them. Has to be. She aims and pulls the trigger in one fluid motion, like she's been training with guns all her life. The WLF soldier slumps to one side and disappears behind the trash, maybe not dead, but hurt bad enough to stop him from coming after them either way.

[notathreat]

Ellie moves like she'd used to this, because she is. It's never left her bones, not since she was fourteen and picked up Joel's dropped pistol. Seattle's a nightmare, sure, but it's one she knows.

The gunshot next to her doesn't make her flinch. And for a second, Ellie doesn't even realize what's happened. Just one more enemy down, one more set of eyes and hands that won't hurt them.

"Good shot," she whispers.

A shot rings off from one of the Wolves, catching the dilapidated plastic trash can next to Ellie's head and knocking it over, while Ellie flinches back, protects her face.

The next bullet ricochets overtop of them.

"Fucking trespassers!" the shooter yells, and Ellie eases one of the glass bottles on the ground into the palm of her hand with coaxing movements of her fingers, so it won't make a sound.

"Gotta get the angle on them," she whispers to Clarisse, then bolts to the nearby truck with the tires shot out, ducking behind it. They waste another two bullets trying to catch her, but Ellie's already gone- there's some tall grass and weeds sprouting up around the truck, and once she disappears from view, she's quiet again.

The sound of shattering glass from somewhere farther down -- Clarisse can see that Ellie threw it, but the wolves can't.

[laruetheday]

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

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

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

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

[notathreat]

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

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

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

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

[laruetheday]

This is admittedly not the way Clarisse normally fights. She'd much prefer brute forcing this encounter, and she's not a huge fan of fighting with guns even if she's not a bad shot. It's contrary to everything she'd typically do, and everything she's comfortable with, but—she's also not stupid, and this isn't a situation she'd ever find herself in back home.

Not doing something because it's uncomfortable is a great way to get killed. So here she is, crouched low, circling around behind the wolves while Ellie takes another one down.

Clarisse hears the thud of the body hitting the ground, the gurgle of someone sucking blood into their windpipe. Predictably, the two remaining wolves sound both furious and a little hysterical, and now they don't even have numbers on their side. But the arrow's given away Ellie's position.

She leans out from behind her gas pump and fires three quick shots in their direction, before they can focus their attention solely on Ellie.

[notathreat]

The wolf that hits the ground gags and chokes on blood, clawing at the arrow in his neck, and Ellie immediately scoots back and out of range, because she's a sitting duck if the see where she is, and decide to drag her out.

Thankfully, Clarisse expertly chooses that moment to split their attention, and the gunshots have them ducking. One buckles and heavily hits the ground, where Ellie glimpses a skull going to pieces.

The second two shots is a shriek of pain and a heavy stagger, and the man's gun hits the ground and goes skittering.

"Fuck, fuck..."

Ellie can see the bulk of him, cringing on the ground, desperately trying to crawl back from Clarisse as she scoots her way out from under the car.

"Stop. Oh God, please don't-"

Fear floods Ellie's senses, the adrenaline of knowing how this goes. Does Clarisse?

She gets up, heading around the corner of the truck, swapping her bow for her handgun.

cw: uh, just some light torture

[laruetheday]

There's a look on Clarisse's face as she steps out across the pavement, toward the man on the ground. Her expression is cool, unmoved, and yet something in her eyes is bright with anticipation. Maybe even pleasure.

She bends and picks up the man's gun, clicks the safety on, slips it into her back pocket. "Oh," she says, and pauses, looking down at him. "Sorry. Was that yours?"

He's bleeding, but he probably won't die from the gunshot wound. She could let him go, and just walk away, and maybe there's a tiny part of her that wants to. It's not like he'd get far, not like this. Most likely he'd end up getting jumped by infected.

But... no.

She can't. She can't. She doesn't want to and her father would never forgive her if she did and Ellie's right there watching from ten feet away and these guys were going to kill them anyway, wouldn't have mattered if they surrendered or begged or tried to run, and Clarisse hates this guy the same way she hates everything she fights, slotting him neatly into the part of her mind that separates a friend from an enemy. There's no in between.

He's still begging her, like there's another option. Getting shot hasn't affected his mouth, that's for sure.

"Shut the fuck up," she says, and kicks him in the face. His head snaps back, and he crumples onto the ground, and there's blood on the toe of her boot and he's spitting blood and broken teeth onto his chin. She plants her foot on the part of his chest where a patch of red is blooming, the gunshot wound, digging the heel of her boot in and leaning.

"You wouldn't have let us go," she says, barely audible over his shriek of pain. "So why should we?"

cw: gore, executions

[notathreat]

For the first time, Ellie gets the edge of a flash of what Dina must've felt, all the times she'd watched Ellie coldly slam a baseball bat, or a hammer, or a piece of rebar into someone's skull while they were begging her for mercy. The holy shit is there on the back of her tongue.

But Ellie's done so much worse, so much more often.

And honestly, this wouldn't have fucked with her past that twinge if she hadn't known this was the first time Clarisse had committed to killing someone.

Ellie's eyes slide over the other corpse on the ground.

No. This was the second.

No, she amends, glancing back towards the gas pumps, where Clarisse had shot the first one. The third.

Fuck.

The man under Clarisse's boot screams again as she presses into his chest, gargling past the blood that's seeping back into his throat- and it's only because Ellie's looking at the gas pump that she catches it.

The movement of a hand, the muzzle of a gun peeking out to point towards Clarisse, to take her in the back. The first guy, who'd been playing possum.

Ellie gets only about an inch of his skull visible before she fires and blows the top of it right off. The man ragdolls on the ground, slowly pumping out blood.

cw: more gore, executions

[laruetheday]

It’s only the sound of the shot that pulls Clarisse back to herself. She turns, only to see the first guy she’d shot—the one she’d thought she killed—hit the ground, flopping over in a way so unnatural it almost makes her feel sick to look at it, shards of skull all over the ground like broken glass.

Shit, that would’ve been bad. He could have shot her in the back, and she would’ve been fucked. And that would have been it. No nectar here, not that even nectar would have necessarily worked on a wound like that.

She turns back to the man she’s got pinned down with her foot, curls her lip, and shoots him in the face. No more show.

“Fuck you,” she mutters, and turns back to face Ellie.

Only then she doesn’t know what to say. The sudden quiet hangs over them, and Clarisse’s shoulders sag. She wipes blood on her jeans.

[notathreat]

Ellie's not sure what she'll find on Clarisse's face when she turns around, but her heart sinks when she does.

She knows what it's like to psyche yourself up to hurting someone, to killing someone. To get yourself to a place where you can do it, if it's not in the heat of the moment.

Ellie knows which of the deaths is going to stick with her. How the momentary tunnel-vision works.

Holding her still-hot gun away from her side, Ellie crosses to her, winds one arm around Clarisse's waist, and pulls her in. Presses her face to her shoulder to breathe. Her heart's beating wildly in her chest.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse wants to bend her head and press her face against Ellie’s neck and close her eyes and just… be still, for a minute. She wants to, but she doesn’t know how.

Her eyes feel like they’re burning, and her throat is dry, and she’s not sure what to do other than—

“We should get out of here.” She wrenches herself out of Ellie’s hold and walks toward the closest body. “Let’s take their weapons.”

She doesn’t look at Ellie as she crouches in the blood, already going tacky, and picks the gun out of the corpse’s hand.

[notathreat]

For a second, she can feel Clarisse angling her body towards hers, and when she pulls away it's almost violent, but not in a way that's directed towards Ellie. No, that seems- inward, and that more than anything makes Ellie's skin crawl a little.

She knows that place, too. Even if it's not the same.

Ellie makes a low sound in answer, not quite trusting her voice as she looks down at the man Clarisse executed, the slack expression there. Death doesn't really rattle her the way it used to. It occurs to her that maybe she's in the place Clarisse thinks she ought to be.

Fuck.

Ellie steps over the corpse on the ground, to the half a foot away in the tall grass, and leans down to dip out the man's gun. His slack hand is still outstretched towards it. Had Clarisse not shot him, he would have used it on her.

Ellie uses a little more force than necessary when she puts her boot into the corpse's side, rolls him over to dig spare bullets out of his pockets. They search the dead quickly, loading up, and Ellie starts leading the way back.

She doesn't speak until they're in sight of camp. When she does, it's quiet.

"He was going for his gun."

[laruetheday]

"Yeah?"

Clarisse isn't sure why Ellie's telling her this. To give her an out, maybe. If you hadn't done that, he would have killed you, which, yeah. It's true.

But she didn't have to kick his teeth out first, or dig her boot into his fucking bullet wound and stare down at him while he screamed for mercy. That was all her. And she would've done more, if the other guy hadn't tried his luck first.

She stops walking, because the camp's up ahead and she doesn't want to talk about this where people can hear them. Not Abby, especially.

"Well, I would've done it anyway." She says it in a way that's almost daring Ellie to argue.

[notathreat]

There it is.

Ellie stops, looking at her, taking in the set of Clarisse's chin and her eyes, and there's nothing pitying about it. Ellie just looks fucking tired, like she's holding something painful in the back of her throat, like something sick that she can't purge no matter how many times she tries.

"I know," she says, with more volume this time. Enough for Clarisse to hear the gravel in her voice. She clears her throat.

"I've tortured someone to death before," Ellie says, with a heavy bluntness, her eyes back at camp, like she can see Abby in the indistinct shapes, her shadow in the fires.

"I've killed people while they were begging me to let them go."

You don't scare me, she wants to say.

"It's a lot easier than it should be, in the moment. It's the after that's hard. No matter how much you rationalize it. Or how good your reasons were."

Ellie finally turns back to Clarisse.

"It sucks."

[laruetheday]

"Ellie—"

Clarisse squeezes her eyes shut just for a second, like she can't bring herself to meet Ellie's gaze. She can tell there's no pity in Ellie's voice, that it's not about that, but she's kicking herself for ever admitting to Ellie that she'd never killed someone before, because look where it led to. Look what Ellie feels like she has to say to her now.

When she opens her eyes, Ellie's still looking at her.

"If you're waiting for me to say I'm sad or something, you're going to be waiting a long time," she says, the words as easy to spit out as it was to dig her boot into flesh and twist.

"That sucks you've tortured people before and you feel bad about it." Flippant, dismissive. Later she'll feel like shit for pushing Ellie away for doing nothing but trying to share a piece of herself that she clearly doesn't give to many people. But right now it's too fresh, too close, and Clarisse can't begin to process her own feelings and intentions, much less anybody else's.

It's almost worse that it's Ellie, the person she feels closest to, who saw the whole thing go down. She wishes it had been someone else, someone who wouldn't give a shit about her feelings. Someone who made it easier to pretend she doesn't have any.

"But we're not the same. So... fucking stop already."

[notathreat]

It hits, and it obviously hurts, and Ellie has to firm up her jaw and glance away, pressing her lips together and biting at the inside of her cheek, sinking her teeth into the urge to snap back at her.

Clarisse is right; it's not something she says easily. Or that she's told many people.

"I know we're not the same," Ellie says, keeping her voice level, and lower. It's getting dark, the distance firelight reflecting off half her face.

"I didn't have anybody to talk to about it."

And because she honestly doesn't trust herself not to fuck things up worse, Ellie re-shoulders her pack and starts back to the camp.

[laruetheday]

She walks into camp a few feet behind Ellie, biting her bottom lip so hard she's shocked it's not bleeding. The both of them are silent, the only sound the scrape of their shoes and the occasional clatter of one of their packs being adjusted.

Say something, she thinks desperately, but her throat is locked tight and she doesn't know anything she could say that would take back any of the shit she just spewed. And maybe she's not sure she wants to do that, yet. But the thought continues, say something say something say something, and then they're back in camp, and she can't.

Clarisse drops off the stuff she's scavenged, finds Abby near the fire and sits beside her, so close their legs are almost touching. It's a fucking cowardly thing to do, since it's the easiest way to ensure that Ellie stays away from her, but she also just wants to sit next to somebody who won't ask her any questions.

She stares down at her hands and picks blood out from underneath her fingernails.

[notathreat]

Space is what Clarisse seems to want, so Ellie will give it to her. She's still learning about her, could've sworn that it's not what she actually wants, but who's Ellie to decide, right?

It keeps playing in her head, way more than she'd like. The way Clarisse leaned into her before pushing her away, like she couldn't stand to be touched.

Ellie unloads her pack, contributes to the supplies, and washes the blood off. Checks on her stitches, finds them neat and well-done, and just... steps outside, all the better to guard.

It'll hopefully give her a chance to breathe, give the both of them space to process.

A while later, Abby joins her. A while later, there are some distant screams in the depths of the building.

Ellie comes back with a bitten arm and some shredded skin, covered in a lot of blood that isn't hers and a little bit of shell-shock in her eyes. Abby, despite not being hurt, looks worse. They explain, in short terms, what Clarisse already knows; that Ellie's gonna be fine. That she's immune. It takes some time for Ellie to be seen to by Derrica, for Abby to settle herself and wash the blood off. For the both of them to reassure the people who cycle in to talk to them.

Finally, though- Ellie has enough. She breaks away from the others to find a corner of camp, a place out on one of the ruined balconies. It still bears stains from being a smoke break area, back when somebody used to work here. But Ellie can still see the sky from here.

Ellie leans herself against the solid concrete of the railing, shrugs her oversized hoodie up around her ears and breathes in the foggy Seattle nighttime. Her arm throbs dully, and Ellie rests her palm over her bandages, like the pressure can distract her from the ache of it.