Open | I got a little raincloud, he's my best friend

[heartstumbles]

WHO: Peter Parker and you!
WHAT: Peter Parker arrives in Thedas after his multiverse experiences and learns to begin again in a new world.
WHEN: Bloomingtide
WHERE: In and around the Gallows.
NOTES: Possible mentions of death, loss, grieving, etc. I'll add more if they come up.

I. Arrival – Post-Rift Journey to Kirkwall

Peter Parker probably doesn’t have any right to be surprised when he finds that he’s fallen out of a dream in which he was forced to climb up the walls of his high school gym (again), uniform and all, and into another universe, and yet, here he is. He doesn’t expect the empty coffee cup, exactly the same kind used by MJ and the coffee shop she works at, and the Lego Palpatine figurine to follow him, either, and yet.

The rift through the air being green is a change of pace, at least. The demons he helps fight with the group of people calling themselves Riftwatch are also a kind of breath of fresh air, in a way. The ones that appear to be made out of lava and the ones that look like Dementors are definitely not the best to fight against in gym clothes though, oof, he thinks. He’s lucky he doesn’t end up significantly injured, though he can’t seem to stop shivering.

His luck proves not all terrible, as the members of Riftwatch explain to him that they aren’t too far from the city of Kirkwall, where their group operates

“And you guys can get me some new clothes in…was it Kirkwall, you said?” Peter asks, turning to the nearest member of Riftwatch, both genuinely curious and also trying not to think too much about the way his body still seems to be shifting between hot and cold after closing the rift.


II. Taking Notes and Quarantine

As Riftwatch helps Peter learn about this Thedas, the world he finds himself in, Peter finds himself fascinated. He wants to know more, to learn more, and he wants to study and immerse himself in this strange, kind of medieval universe. He can help people here; he can do good after messing up so badly in his own world.

He’ll have to be careful, he realizes, about using his abilities here. He doesn’t want to put people in danger just from knowing him again, after all. Still, Peter finds himself eager and ready to throw himself into Riftwatch; when they make the pitch to him about joining, he doesn’t hesitate. It seems only fair, after all, given how much they’ve already helped him.

Peter signs up for Research, though he’s sorely tempted by the Scouting Division, too. But he needs to pace himself; recent events back home have taught him that. And Research seems as good a place as any to start.

Peter sets himself to work; he finds a spot for himself in the library and surrounds himself with books of all kinds, both for his work in Research and to help himself learn more about Thedas. He’s determined to do better here; he has to, he tells himself. His growling stomach sometimes is the only reminder he listens to when he needs to eat.

As he’s quarantined within the Gallows for the time being, Peter takes to exploring all that he can of the place when he has the chance. He is fascinated by the laboratories and work rooms in the same tower as the library, and he asks questions of anyone who will humor him. He takes to walking around the open spaces of the Gallows as well, observing the areas for training and sparring. If he wants to be more active out in the field, he thinks, he should probably learn how to fight with the weapons Thedas has available. He’s particularly interested by the archers, and the way using bows and arrows reminds him, from a certain angle, of using his webs, though he’s also well aware that they’re entirely different skill sets.

Peter keeps to himself when he eats in the dining hall, tucked away in a corner, usually with his own notes. He’s trying to keep a record of his experiences in Thedas so far, for his own reference. It can’t hurt, he thinks.

When he isn’t studying, working, or observing, Peter tries to create and stick with an exercise routine for himself, to keep his body as sharp as his mind. He can be found in and around the sparring area, out of the way of people sparring, stretching and working out as best he can.


III. Wildcard

[If there’s anything specific you’d like to do with Peter, just let me know and I can put up a starter in the comments, or feel free to put up your own starter if you like!]

Comments

II.

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Jude's a friendly sort of man; he has a smile for everyone and makes it a point to check in with the newcomers. He would, even if it weren't in any official capacity.

One of the newcomers is younger, and that alone would tug at his heartstrings. He knows better than to underestimate the younger Rifters; the ones who show up here are so often shaped by cruel worlds. Abby and Clarisse would be proof enough of that.

While he's said hi in passing they haven't gotten a chance to talk, and at breakfast time there's a straggling crowd. It's not Sunday yet, but his wolf is grumbling so Jude heads out with a plate. He puts the plate with the slice of fresh bread down on the table next to Peter- it's spread with a homemade cherry jam. He nudges it toward the young man with his forefinger, gives a meaningful lift to his eyebrows.

He's a tall man, well over six feet, with the kind of muscle that could easily make him intimidating, but his smile is very genuine.

"Think you could be tempted to be a taste-tester?"

[notathreat]

Ellie was away when Peter first returned to the Gallows after the Rift spat him out. She's gone for a couple of days, comes back midmorning overtired and hopped up on nerves. Covered in road dust, a flowering bruise across one cheekbone.

(Lucky shot, of course.)

There are stablehands and workers that mind the horses and griffons while Ellie's gone, but she figures she can work off some of the nervous energy before trying to sleep with mucking out stalls or something. Unfortunately, they did their jobs a little too well, so after futzing around with paperwork for all of five minutes, Ellie decides she needs to do something else and grabs up her bow to head out to the training yard.

Plenty of folks are around, doing their drills and exercising by themselves. Ellie says hi to one or two of them in passing, but heads straight for the archery targets when she doesn't find Clarisse, figuring she can sink a few arrows and shake the nerves out of her hands.

This morning, she's the only one on the targets.

Ellie doesn't cut that remarkable of a figure; she's a freckled young woman of medium height wearing leather armor and fingerless gloves that cover her anchor. She's not precisely small, but her narrow shoulders give that impression. She holds herself like something wary but wild, and her shoulders begin to relax as she sinks arrow after arrow into the target, clustering them around the center.

She notices Peter glancing over at her the first couple of times he does it, but doesn't say anything, focusing on her draw, the burn in her fingers, regulating her breathing.

Only once she gets through all the arrows in her quiver does she head over to the target to start pulling them out where they're all bunched around the center. This brings her closer to Peter, and she fixes him with a pointed glance before she pulls one out, drops it back into her quiver.

"Rifter?" she asks, and her voice is lower, huskier than what might be expected.

II

[sprent]

"Hello.

Yes, you."

Spoken by a woman passing by, with a book tucked underneath of her arm, voice bright and lightly accented. She holds a current-studded bread roll, wrapped in wax paper out to him. "You need to do somethin' about that stomach-rumble of yours. I can hear it on the other side of the library."

II

[heirring]

In one of those aforementioned work rooms—

BANG! A sudden column of arcane fire gouts upward, splashing the stone ceiling and leaving a black scorch mark. Tongues of flame scatter outward like spilled coins, mercifully evaporating before they can coming raining back down on the room.

The figure standing very close to the source of this explosive heat, her squawk of dismay having been muffled both by the whoosh of fire and the heavy scale helm she has slapped down over her head, snatches at a chain pull end and yanks it. Doing so works a pulley and upends a bucket, dousing the whole table and the complicated looking overheated device on it in a splash of water and roiling steam.

Apparently this was a possibility the engineer in question had prepared for.

Stepping back from the waterlogged table, a hand in a heavy leather glove pushes the visor of the helm up. The armor piece is slightly too large for the woman wearing it, but she's evidently made up for it by wrapping a cheerfully patterned shawl around her head multiple times. The edges of it peek out around her cheeks as she turns to scan the room and her eyes land on—

"You. Hello." Bad luck, Peter Parker. "Would you be so kind as to climb up there and fetch down my bucket."

She gestures to the end of the pulley system where the upended bucket is dangling. She could do it herself, of course. There is a stepladder near to hand, even. But it would require first divesting of the heavy leather apron she's wearing over her skirts and the rest of her protective equipment only to have to pit it all back on again and that would be irritating.

i

[laruetheday]

Oh, he's talking to her.

Clarisse, not fantastic at talking to new people (or people in general), has been more or less doing her own thing since they closed the rift. Her own thing is mostly cleaning her sword, cleaning her spear, cleaning her boots, and then picking dirt out from under her fingernails. Now she's picking grass out of Limp Bizkit the horse's mane, but she stops when Peter addresses her.

She looks the guy over—about her age, clearly from a world where high schools exist—and tries to summon up the same calm kindness Jude had for her after she fell out of the sky and was freaking out. Or even Gwen, dropping clothes off at her room with a note that didn't make a big deal out of anything. Unfortunately, kind/caring/subtle is not Clarisse's strong suit.

"Obviously. You can't walk around wearing that. You look ridiculous."

She wore her gym clothes for a straight month because she was too stubborn to do anything else, and still uses them as pajamas, but she's not about to tell him that.

slides into ii finally

[portalling]

So, the rifts have farted out another new arrival.

It’s a common enough occurrence, enough that it doesn’t go through the organisation with any particular fanfare, simply the news of another recruit quietly tucked away inside Riftwatch and added to their burgeoning number. And when the name Peter Parker crosses Stephen Strange’s desk as the latest addition to Research in particular —

there’s nothing, not a single blink of recognition at that name, the man simply filing it away in the back of his mind as a potential colleague. Just another kid.

But so many rifters go through that familiar song-and-dance of research during quarantine, and so Strange has an idea of where to find the arrival; he haunts the library often enough himself. So late one evening, the man asks the librarian if they've seen the new rifter, then he wends through the aisles, walks right up to Peter’s desk, and unceremoniously drops off a copy of A Study of the Fifth Blight, Volume I.

“That one’s useful for local history,” Strange says.

And when Peter looks up, the man is a man he knows. Familiar presumptuous behaviour, familiar voice, Thedosian mage robes even similar enough to a sorcerer's robes. But his expression is placid: only benignly interested in Peter as another person with that glowing shard of rifter green, with absolutely no trace of recognition on his face, no indication of what they’d been through together — because that is, of course, exactly the state in which Peter last left Doctor Strange.