Keep a gold chain on my neck

[clawings]

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: A ghost falls out of a rift, only he's alive now, so that's... something?
WHEN: Justinian
WHERE: Around Kirkwall, mostly in the Gallows during Rifter quarantine
NOTES: If you knew Erik before? I'm sorry, he doesn't remember you.

1. Rock the boat like a one-eyed pirate :: once the rift has closed (arrival in the nearby mountains)

Erik had held his own fighting with the others against the demons and solitary wraith that followed him through the rift, once he demanded that one of Riftwatch's rescuers go ahead and toss him a sword. Pretty impressive, perhaps, considering what he's wearing, down to the leather sandals, wouldn't be considered all that great of a gear for fighting in.

Now, the monsters are gone and he's been given the spiel, his eyebrows working higher and higher as the state of Thedas, of Riftwatch, and his (hopeful) position therein are explained to him. When he's done asking some fairly general questions -- How long has all this been going on? Years? Fuck. And how long will it take to get to Riftwatch? -- he takes a deep breath and asks a fairly strange one:

"What do the people here think happens to your soul when you die?"

Judging by his expression, he is honestly curious. Or trying to start shit, right out the gate.

It can be hard to tell.

2. Rick James, I get glitter on my eyelids :: quarantine in the Gallows

Here's the thing: Erik can't even be too pissed at the insistence on a quarantine.

First? Because he was dead. For a hot minute. No body remained. His consciousness, or soul, or whatever you want to call it, existed solely in an afterlife that consisted of more or less one (large) room occasionally on fire. Aware of the world of those that were living in a way that could not be easily explained in many ways other than by pointing at him and going ghost.

Ancestor.

And that was no longer true. Erik was now alive, in possession of a body that required food, water, sleep. A body that itched to train. A body that looked and felt as familiar as the body he died in, and so, it was his body. Many scars and all.

Secondly, he was grateful for the time to go ahead and try to figure out just what in the whole fuck was going on here.

He's around at every meal, in the communal eating space. You do not come in possession of his musculature by skipping meals... plus it's been a while since he's had the opportunity to, yanno, eat. He sits alone at first but then picks up his plate and sits down next to someone else.

"So what is it you do here?"

He can also be stumbled upon in the kitchen, opening containers of spices and taking sniffs of the contents before peering at the labels. "Man, what kinda names are these?"

In the library he picks out ten books at random and then cracks them all open on a back table, spread out. He doesn't read them so much as he flips through them, taking note of illustrations and lists and any notes written in the margins.

Is it sunny out? Or at least not actively storming? He's in the training yard for a few hours at least, working up a shirtless sweat with a shortsword and putting his scars on easy display. If he catches anyone staring Erik shoots a grin. "Wanna spar? Won't bite."

Another encounter of note is in the griffon roost, which Erik wanders into, clearly unsure. A thousand percent a kid from the hood in over his head. Horses are one thing, but big fucking bird-cats?

His response is a murmured "Now what in the whole fuck, man?!"


[ Two notes:

1. If you would like to opt out of interacting with Erik, please click here.

2. I will match your format!]

Comments

[clawings]

"Some fresh off the boat asshole, you know how it is." He imagines if she's been there longer than, say, a week? She's probably familiar with at least the concept of fairly ignorant Rifters.

(If there's one thing Erik despises, it's being ignorant of the facts in any situation he finds himself. The man loves to plot.)

He raises an eyebrow. "Unless you want my name or something."

[sprent]

She chuckles, digging her spoon into her lunch and leaving it there for now, "That would be nice, messere."

Otherwise she'll call you that the entire time, and with full knowledge of how squirmy rifters can be about it. Here, allow her to go first: "I'm Gela. I'm part of the Diplomacy division."

[clawings]

Messere, huh? That's different. Gela has an accent that isn't the same as a lot of other folks around, but he's heard it here and there on the island.

"Erik." The corner of his mouth quirks upward just a bit. "One of those fresh off the boat assholes I mentioned earlier. What does an agent of Diplomacy do, in a war like this?"

[sprent]

He has a nice little smirk. Gela watches him measuredly, fitting her chin to her hand. That's the second time he's called himself an asshole, and she is keeping track!

"A lot of talking. If you were a diplomat from another part of Thedas, I would technically be working right now."

But, alas.

[clawings]

Erik's smirk increases fractionally before he pulls his expression further toward neutral. He is, at best, a wartime king. Diplomacy is far from those tactics.

"You take up Diplomacy because you like people or 'cuz you don't like to fight?"

[sprent]

"Well," if you must know, "I took it up because I'm a merchant's daughter, and I'd like to think I'd pretty good at selling people things they don't need.

Not that Thedas doesn't need Riftwatch, mind."

That thing, he said, about fighting. That he even brought it up at all! "Let me guess. Forces?"

[clawings]

"Fair enough." He actually respects that outlook (and particular social capacity) quite a bit. bf

But at her question, he smiles, before raising his brows and nodding. "You listened. Nothing if not predictable, for me. Was in the armed forces before."

[sprent]

Gela smiles, nonplussed. "They're armed now, too, you'll find. I don't think they send you out there in nothing."

[clawings]

That? That little rueful smirk? Means you got him, Gela. "That'd be some shit." Considering just about everyone around here is armed to some degree or another, as far as he's been able to tell.

"It's good that some things are universal." Forces bearing arms, etcetera. "I wanna keep talking but I'm afraid that since my ass just got here, mostly what I got to say ends with a question mark. So. Hope you'll bear with me for at least one more." He inclines his head a little, and before she can give a positive or negative response: "What do you like about it here? Besides, you know." He gestures around the room with one hand. "Place to stay, food to eat, in wartime? Shit like that.

Can guess what a few pitfalls might be. Men with questions, interrupting meals and whatnot. Probably high on the list, at the moment."

[sprent]

Gela will bear with him for one more, because it means that while he asks it, she gets to have another bite of food. And he's hardly as annoying as he's pretending to be; she finds him quite charming.

"It would be lower on the list if I knew the man's name, I think," she says, casting about for a good reason to like living in the Gallows that isn't the actual one. "I like the company. Before I came here, I was traveling around Thedas. Did that for a few years. It was hard, and lonely. Got tired of it quickly, not coming from anyplace, or having a bed, but I have that, here. Here, men ask me questions."

And it's nice. Gela isn't lying, she just isn't being entirely truthful. What she likes most about the Gallows is its sturdiness, the reassurance of all the stone and the people inside it who fight and know things, and can keep calm in unlikely events.

These people are the best equipped to handle her.

[clawings]

Erik puts a hand on his chest, mock affronted. "But you know my name. Now, I didn't give the introduction it's proper attention, just kinda fucking flew through it, so, you know, I'll do better this time."

He moves his hand from his chest to the space between them, palm up. "You're Gela. You work in the Diplomacy division. Your father was a merchant. You've traveled alone a lot. You like that there are people here to talk to. Your accent is interesting, I really like it. You did not fall out of a rift."

The hand returns to his chest. "My name is Erik. I did fall out of a rift. I like to fight, and I've been a soldier before, so I'm in Forces. I also like that there are people to talk to, here."

Leaning in a little. "Now, if there's some other guy you don't know who is all up in your business while you're trying to eat and you need me to talk to him... I'm at your service. Just saying."

[sprent]

Gela startles out of her reverie. Her chin slips out of her hand as she straightens up and she's gone slightly pink in the face. He's right and he did say— that's embarrassing! So she waits for a moment before she corrects him. "My mother was also a merchant."

But apart from that, "It's only the one, for now, Erik, but I'll keep you updated."

She's smiling. Cupping a hand across her mouth, to hide it. Mostly because she's amused by her own mistake, but it's not like he didn't handle it well.

"I'm sorry!" That his name slipped her mind like that. Is he that distracting? "You know, you could be in Diplomacy a lot sooner than I could ever be in Forces."

[clawings]

Oop, he got her to smile! Bonus points in his favor, clearly, especially when he's certain she didn't mean to momentarily forget his name, it's fine. There's a lot going on here. In general. In specific.

He smiles in return. He's pretty amused, and she's cute, which does not hurt. "We're good; don't worry about it." Really.

At Gela's mention that he could be in Diplomacy he shrugs. "Sometimes you gotta talk to people. Not what I'm best at, though." Thus, Forces. "So I was right? You don't like to fight?"

[sprent]

"I won't, then." Gela's more than happy to drop it.

... Though, she isn't any happier to be back on a subject she thought she'd already steered him away from. Her brow furrows momentarily before she answers. "No, I don't. But Forces has enough people to go around already. And someone has to stay behind when everybody else goes charging off, just in case."

[clawings]

"That's fair," Erik admits, inclining his head a little bit. It's good, he thinks, that people who don't want to fight aren't being forced into it. Holding a weapon isn't for everyone... even if he himself can't imagine not being armed and prepared to defend what he must.

"What would you be doing if there wasn't a war on, then?"

[sprent]

Really, it's as good for Riftwatch as it is for Gela. She would not last long in an attack.

"Traveling, I suppose. I was making my way around Thedas before I stopped here, and stayed." In a similar vein, "Whereabouts did you come here from?"