MOD PLOT ↠ HOME FOR RIFTMAS

[faderifting]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 ↠ MCU Earth-199999

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 ↠ Shifterverse

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

Real-world 2022, but what if Shifters?

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

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

3 ↠ Tassia

D&D Original World, Loxley & Richard Dickerson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4 ↠ Sulleciel

Original fantasy world, Petrana de Cedoux.

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

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

5 ↠ Kalvad

Original fantasy world, Wysteria Poppell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6 ↠ Abeir-Toril

D&D Forgotten Realms, Astarion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7 ↠ Orphan Black

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

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

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

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

8 ↠ The Last of Us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comments

[charmoffensive]

"I'll try," is muttered, hand pressed to wound as he follows her inside. The door shuts behind them, propelled so by magic summoned by a curl of his fingers.

'Tis but a scratch, and all, but Loxley is about to protest being worried over now that they're out of combat. In his hand is his coat, which, upon doffing, shimmers with its own enchantment and turns from deep blue brocade into simple leather, decorated in runic script stamped into the material, some metal studding previously unseen set across the shoulders and back.

It's allowed to flop over the back of a chair as Loxley inspects himself. The rest of his clothes also changed appearance too, rendered into simpler garments than the finery they'd been glamoured as, earthen tones of browns and golds. And now crimson, blooming where his shoulder meets his chest.

"It was tactical of me," he says, wry, self-deprecating in a jokey attempt to save face, "allowing the hit. So I could set him on fire magically, you see."

[tender]

Tactics nets a small, begrudging smile.

Yes, Derrica understands tactics. Just as she has realized she must weave her way through a muddle of combatants, plant herself close enough that the sparks which gather about her body lash out at anyone near to her, she understands that it is very possible Loxley had needed this wound to inspire the flame.

Is it blood magic? The definition is so muddled here that she can't assign any particular feeling to it other than the more straightforward thing: he is wounded, and she is worried over it, even if she is certain the wound isn't deep enough to be debilitating.

"You've bled all over this," she says, plucking lightly at the fabric. The obviously magical fabric, less a surprise now than it might have been before she came into possession of the winged boots on her feet. "Let me see, captain."

Captain.

[charmoffensive]

There'd been a moment, some months back, that Loxley had decided not to speak of this particular trick, of inflicting pain upon a landed strike. That it did seem like something adjacent to that forbidden magic that made Derrica recoil. Call it cockiness or simply forgetfulness, now that he's been thrown back into a context where no such concerns exist.

He smiles at her, anyway. Whether the wound is serious or not, Loxley saves that arm from the labour of getting his bloodied shirt off, gathering it up by the hem in one hand before manoeuvring it over his head, past his horns.

The slash is a little jagged at the edges, but shallow, a vertical stripe of a lucky blow and an unfortunate placement, considering it's in proximity of his sword arm. Half-drying blood has smeared over gold-tinged skin, making it all look worse than it is.

"See, nothing to worry about," is also a joke. It will need healing. Despite this, Loxley sidles in closer, enough that he can nudge his nose into her hair, a hand resting on her waist. "You smell nice."

Like lightning and rain and smoke. A different sort of storminess than the kind she carries in Thedas.

[tender]

If it repeats in Thedas—

Derrica doesn't think of it. Presumably she will not be able to do some of the things that she can now, that come to her fingertips without much thought. If this is a dream, it is a dream in which these newfound abilities come easily to her, as if eager to be put to use. The feel of them is unfamiliar, even those that are nearly identical to what she might have done in Thedas.

The healing is much the same, only it comes as little sparks and prickles, might leave static in Loxley's hair. Cinched in close, Loxley is permitted the hand at her hip, his face so close to hers, while she examines the strip cut into him.

And maybe a little bit examining him. Gold, rather than silver. Still familiar, in the planes of his chest, the angles of his body. She flattens her palms lightly on either side of the slice. Her smile widens, fond, in response to him. If she turns her head, she could catch his mouth, but she is not ready to be distracted just yet.

"There is so much magic here," she muses. It suffuses everything, even the clothing. Even her boots. "Will the blood ruin your tunic?"

[charmoffensive]

"Tunic's fine."

Loxley is a little tempted to be really obnoxious, wind his way into her space completely, but her hands on his chest makes the wound between them twinge, and he can feel the odd run of blood where it continues to weep from the gash. Plus, he does need that arm, for activities.

"The magic's the coat, it just changes the rest of what I'm wearing if I want it to. I found it..." And Loxley trails off, frowning, glancing to the coat as if trying to recall. "Oh, no. I bought it. But it was bought with dragon gold. Basically everything is, if it's not found—"

Ah, a breath of discomfort. Alright, so, that stings.

He tips a look down to watch her magic, and asks, quieter, "How does that feel?"

[tender]

Yes, he does need that arm.

The hitch of audible discomfort breaking through the recitation is what prompts her, shakes her from her observation to actively reach for the magic.

She is mimicking Richard, in a way. The murmur isn't the same, doesn't share Richard's indecipherable cadence, but it shares something in the channeling of power through some quiet, reverent litany. Her palms flatten more fully against his skin. Light crackles, illuminating the space between them as warmth spreads across his skin.

A minor furrow of a frown answers his question. Not because the spell isn't taking hold, just—

"Strange," she answers. Warm when it should be cool. Remote when it should simply be, waiting at the tips of her fingers rather than kindled with a murmur. "Like standing in someone else's boots."

The skin knits all the same. She thumbs at a smear of blood left behind as the spell concludes, catching it before it runs further down his chest.

[charmoffensive]

The wound closes with a warm prickle, as if microscopic sparks of lightning were stitching his wound closed. It's not altogether unpleasant, but he does have to stave off the urge to itch that same place.

No scarring, which is nice. He doesn't need the memory of a random lizardman bandit getting him fast with a rusty scimitar immortalised on his flesh.

"Nicely done," he says, "wrong boots or otherwise."

He rests his hand over hers, curling his fingers around the edge of her palm, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles.

[tender]

A hum, considering the words. Considering the ways in which this new magic is useful to her, as much as it is baffling in its working.

But rather than linger over the point, she lets her attention settle fully on him. Loxley's mouth is warm, the bristle of whisker familiar even if other aspects are not. She turns her hand in his grip so she might thumb across his cheek, over the corner of his mouth, as she looks into his face.

"So this is you. Truly."

It defied description. She remembers, vaguely, Loxley mentioning this gold, the differences that he now inhabits, but it had been such a long time ago. Derrica had tried to picture it, but come up short. Painfully short, now that she has had time to observe the full effect of his true form.

[charmoffensive]

His hand relaxes around hers, letting it go where it will, his own coming to rest at her wrist as she touches his face. It's a familiar sort of cue, one he might respond to by leaning down to kiss her, but the thought only begins to settle up his spine before she speaks again.

A flicker, something amused, something—momentarily—guarded. If given a choice, Loxley is certain he'd have wanted Derrica to see how he'd looked prior to Thedas deciding otherwise, but all the same, how oddly confronting. There's nothing in her voice or the way she looks at him to make him feel uneasy, and so he does not.

"It is," he says. "Not half bad for a devil man, I'd say."

The downside, of course, is that they will go back. He'll return to his silver and tail-less form. Maybe he'll be able to tell, which she liked better.

[tender]

Devil man snags, prompts some deeper examination of his expression.

Even without a full understanding of how tieflings are received, she can guess at some cause of that guarded, shadowed piece of his reaction. All of what's passed between them, this delicate, new-established dimension of their affection, has been kindled in Thedas. Here, he is wearing his own body. Two eyes, black and gold, the gleam of his skin under her hands, the flick of tail at his back, all vastly different from what Thedas had made of him.

She can guess, a little, at the uncertainty he might have felt. And she understands how damaging it would be to have pushed him away.

"I think you're beautiful."

Derrica has told him this before; it is as true here as it had been in Thedas. It has so much to do with who Loxley is, how he carries himself, the curve of his smile and how readily he returns her touch.

"How does it feel?" is a difficult question, isn't it? How does it feel to be back in his own body again?

[charmoffensive]

Of course she would say that, but also, thank gods.

The flattery is accepted, taken as is without any flicker of doubt or refusal or deflection. Appreciation is transmitted back to her, subtly, the way his hands flex where he touches her in a gentle firming of his hold. Her question turns him more inwards, a glance down and aside, shoulder lifting as if to observe its changed tone.

"Not any different, physically," he says, after a moment. "Tail aside."

It is a lengthy tail, dipping down from the end of his spin to the ground, where it curves right back up to relaxedly hover the boney spade-like tip above his waist. He gently waves it in gesture, sinuously snakey in motion, before idling again.

But as for not physically—

"A little foolish, I suppose. After all this time spent fretting about looking so different to everyone around me, I miss it. This. And, you know, there's nothing really wrong with the silver, it's just not quite right."

[tender]

"I understand."

Or she thinks she does, even if the only experiences she has to draw on are only glancingly related. It has to be a wholly different thing to be separated from your home and from your body as well.

"Do you want to stay?" is a very cautiously posed question. Aware of how his answer might hurt to hear, and how unfair it is for her to feel any particular way about it.

She already has a sense of what he might say. It won't be a surprise.

"I know it's a dream," she tells him, as if to head off a deflection. "But if it wasn't."

[charmoffensive]

Well, there goes his deflection.

A breath leaves him, almost a protest—but there aren't arguing, and so he finds himself gently looping his arms around her instead, sealing it with his hand wrapped around his other wrist behind her. Outside, the wind changes, and the crew make the necessary adjustments to the sails. The whole structure creaks, and there's the barely perceptible shift of its adjustment beneath their feet.

His ship, and his crew.

"I would experience want, yes," he says, a flicker of a smile in apology for such a poor quality answer. "When I was very young, this was everything I'd hoped I'd be, and I never really stopped hoping. I'd be lying if I said I could just so easily let it all go, again."

A subtle shake of his head. "Thedas has a great deal to recommend it, though." He doesn't sound like he's speaking of its tourist attractions.

[tender]

The loop of his arms has never felt like a cage.

She is weighing that well-worn fact now as much as she is thinking of what he is telling her, this honesty, delivered with the brace of his arms holding her close to cushion her imaginings.

"No airships," she reminds him, laying palms over his chest. Lighter over the words; Loxley knows what's missing from Thedas. She suspects Loxley has noticed the absence of airships in his time living in Thedas. "And you're without your tail."

Among other things missing.

[charmoffensive]

"Devastating losses."

—is not completely untrue, but there's a lightness to delivery that implies that he's lived with it for this long. "But wanting's a different thing to what you'd do about it. And if someone said, 'choose now', I don't really know what would happen. What I'd say." Her hands are warm and gentle where they rest, her expression earnest, her face one he's come to know so well.

Thinking about never seeing it again is a knife twist, a feeling he absorbs in its most hypothetical phantom form, and so he adds, "I know that I'd also want to be where you are."

[tender]

It would be a lie to say she hadn't thought of the future. She had considered that Loxley would be well-received in Rivain, even if he wasn't truly a qunari. He was so many other things that Rivainis appreciated, and there was so much there that he might enjoy—

In fairness, Derrica thinks often of spiriting members of Riftwatch away to Rivain. It would be beneficial to so many of them, but with Loxley—

There's that common sense, but there's also some similar urge towards what she had seen in Loxley when he had been able to bring them aboard this ship.

"It is hard to think of what it would be like for me here," is a little unfair, isn't it? When Loxley has been in Thedas for so long, separated from matters equally urgent. And maybe it doesn't matter; she won't be able to crossover unless the Research Division hits upon something drastic. "But I don't want to be far from you."

Derrica has had time to consider the reality of that.

"I want you to be happy too," she tells him, softer. Leaning into him, as the whistle of wind outside the window changes pitch along with the shift in course.

[charmoffensive]

She leans in, and he comfortably tightens his hold around her.

After a second, lowering his voice as if commenting to a companion in the seat beside you at a theatre performance, "This is dreadfully romantic of us."

Lovers from different worlds, potentially torn about by the same magic that brought them together, and so on. The jokiness in his tone is only mild, and he touches her hair, toying with the loose ends of it as though they were lying down somewhere comfortable.

"And thankfully, no decision we'll have to make any time soon. But for the record, you'd be an excellent adventurer."

But he also knows she cares for more things in Thedas than he does in Tassia, if one were to make a tally. He's merely trying to save his, while she's amongst those looking to do both that and also improve upon hers.

[tender]

This is an invitation to leave the topic, let this looming uncertainty fall to the side.

There's wisdom in that. Neither of them can do very much about their present situation. The magic that brought him to Thedas is far outside her comprehension, let alone her control.

And they are far from Thedas. Or it feels as if they are.

Held so, Derrica lays her palm over his heart. Remembers Loxley describing a scar. How he almost died. Or died and was saved, pulled back from it. (Remembers him straight-backed before a shifting mosaic.) The pendant around her neck is comfortably warm, just a few degrees hotter than it should be. Her agreement is a quiet hum of a thing, thoughtful. Considered alongside the topic they're setting down.

"I think I love flying," she says slowly, because that more so than any part of the fight, or the slippery, uncertain nature of the magic at her disposal here has stuck in her mind. But still, it prompts a question: "What does your magic feel like, when you cast it here?"

[charmoffensive]

Loving flying is certainly another aspect of being a good adventurer, it turns out. Features less in the storybooks, and never at all in Thedas. Loxley's smile is small and affectionate, recognising, too, that Derrica is willing to allow the conversation some space to grow beyond the potential quagmire of where either of them belong.

If not with each other, anyway, which is its own sort of miring. "A little like," he starts, and stops. "In Thedas, it feels like closing a fist, or drawing a weapon. Here, it's more... freed, than that. For me, anyway. Like letting go of something.

"How does it feel to you?"

[tender]

"Like spilled water."

Not so far off.

Only it's so very different, because—

"In Thedas, it feels like my magic flows through me, and I direct the current of it. But here..."

A little lift of her shoulders, not a shrug, but some slight uncertainty in it.

"It's almost like trying to get a good grasp on a wave."

[charmoffensive]

"Mm."

Loxley runs his hand up and down her spine in lazy arcs, as if they were laying down together rather than standing in place. Maybe they should be laying down. Maybe they'd get less talking done if they were, though.

"You know," he says, after a moment, "it sounds a little like mine, what you do. You're not asking for the magic from anywhere, not a god or the earth or a book. I've always sort of thought being a mage from your world is most likely being a sorcerer, in mine, even knowing that magic comes from the Fade."

People who are conduits, who have to learn their way towards controlling something they innately possess, rather than the other way around.

[tender]

All at once, she recalls the very first time Loxley had shown his magic to her. It had shuddered and sparked between them, energy crackling green around his fist. Wholly different than the pale snap of an anchor shard, it had felt like.

Resting her hands over his chest, Derrica traces unfamiliar scars. It is good to touch him, feel him warm underneath her hands. It is better to talk of magic with him, and have proof underneath her fingers that Loxley is not flinching, not bracing or leaning away from her.

"I like that," she tells him. "That it's similar in that way."

Even if it doesn't exactly change anything else, doesn't blur the lines between their world.

"Do you like it better now than you did when you showed it to me that first time?"

[charmoffensive]

Loxley looks down, at her fingers picking over the ridge of scar tissue where something deadly had plunged through flesh, muscle, bone, organs. A rippled seam that disguises much of the mess that had occurred, there.

But he's brought some things along from Thedas too. Her charm she gave him, resting warm on dark golden skin, just above. He gathers her hands into his like he's forming a bouquet, brings them up to kiss her knuckles.

"I think so," is honest for its uncertainty. "How powers come to be means a little more in this world. Yes, it comes from me, but that's because I come from something else. I wish I knew more about that part, is the only thing."

And whether it's good or bad. Some other aspect of himself that he can't trust, twisted through infernal bloodlines.

"You like it, don't you? Your magic."

[tender]

As honest a question as it is, it still feels strange to consider.

"I do," is gentle, even if the kneejerk impulse had been towards of course.

How could she feel any other way about it? Was it possible to hate her lungs? Her heart?

"It's been a part of me always. Even before I understood what it was."

His mouth is good just there, over her hands. She doesn't make any effort to draw away from him, even as her stomach flips. Some quiet, private anxiety, twinned with these moments where she looks at him and feels the full weight of all this affection. Feels the way it loops between them.

Considers that he may ever find out what he hopes to, if he remains in Thedas.

"Can you live without knowing where you've come from?"