[OPEN]

[bribon]

WHO: Cornelia + Desidério + YOU!
WHAT: Closing a rift in central Antiva goes awry.
WHEN: Early Fantasy!October
WHERE: Central Antiva, and then also the Gallows + Kirkwall + Wherever
NOTES: Rifts and rift-closing accessories; content warn in your subject lines as necessary.

Comments

[bribon]

The mattress flops halfway back into the bedframe as the man straightens, pivots.

He's a slight thing, narrow all over except in the face. That has a broadly expressive quality to it, its various workings emphasized by the scruff of the beard worn over it. Therefore, it's hard to miss that he looks her over from the floor up—a split second's assessment—before he sets his anchor riddled right hand on the bed post and adopts a casual lean. The other hand, wide cuffed glove and all, it propped knuckles first above his hip. Jaunty.

"I've been informed no one gives a shit if I clear out the unused furniture as long as it's 'stored responsibly.'"

Sounds like a direct quote from one the Gallows' more beleaguered staff.

"Don't suppose you've a spare hand, and a passion for heavy lifting?"

[armd]

This pose is, no doubt, intended to make her look at the anchor, which Abby does. And then she looks at him again and carefully this time, as if she might be able to figure out where he was before he went and fell into a rift, but there aren't any general clues about him (Is there ever? What is she doing? She looks away).

To his quote and question both, she snorts. Well...

"Something like that." Even under her long-sleeved shirt the evidence of her considerable muscle is still obvious.

Gesturing with her chin to inform him that he should take the furthest end of the mattress, she steps into the room to take the side closest to the door. "I'm Abby," she adds, and lifts. Mattresses are tough even you can carry them with no problem... they're annoyingly floppy. "Good to meet you. Where's this going?"

[bribon]

Andraste smile on the brawny types. It keeps the rest of them from doing any real work.

Mostly. Wrestling a straw mattress is a two man job regardless, but at least from this side he doesn't have to lift and steer. With a cheerful clap of the hands—leather against bare skin, green anchor light fleeting briefly along the smooth grain of the former—he moves to obey the tilt of her chin.

"Desidério. Likewise, charmed. Hup"—is the sound of the mattress coming fully up off the floor—"There's a cupboard at the end of the corridor. Steer right."

Does any of this nonsense belong there? Who can say. He didn't ask that many questions, lest he got an answer he didn't much care for.

[armd]

"Got it."

They walk the mattress carefully down the corridor. It sags in the middle. The rasping complaint of the old straw crinkling inside it is the only sound; at the end, Abby bears right. She dutifully helps the mattress make the turn, coaxing it around the corner with Desidério playing rudder at the other end. She adds, "You just get here?"

And already rearranging furniture? Bold strategy.

[bribon]

"This morning."

No one's chucked him out yet, anyway. And here is the aforementioned cupboard, slotted in off the stairwell. Desidério motions with a jerk of the chin—Steer past it—, and once he's made level with the door, briefly balances the sagging mattress in one fist so he might slap open the door. Viola.

"Seems the majority of you are old hats."

[armd]

Very good.

"It's gonna have to go diagonal—" so she takes more of its weight on her end just to tilt it, so that it will fit through the door frame properly. Threading a giant needle, easy. The mattress feels scratchy on her hands and the insides of her wrists where she's holding it. Bits of straw are poking through.

Admittedly, "You're our first new person we've had in a while. Hope you like attention and weird questions."

[bribon]

"Lucky me," he says, packing himself into the storage closet along with the mattress. He'll have to wrestle his way back past it to escape. "My two favorite things after scratchy sheets and windowless dungeons, and you have those here too."

It's looking up for Desidério Amanza!

Somewhere, many miles from here, there are people who know him quite well who are going to laugh themselves sick when they hear about this. But he has a few weeks before that news breaks, and presently may live with something like contentment knowing his disappearance will be considered an ominous threat to those same parties. There is nothing as unsettling as not having eyes on a bad dog.

[armd]

"Don't stop there," she jokes, as they ease the last bit of the mattress into the closet. Reaching out, she holds the door so he can squeeze back out again (unless he's comfortable in there, you never know). "In the summertime, we get flea infestations."

Welcome to Riftwatch.

[bribon]

He'll take the squeezing out the door back into the hallway over trapped forever in the storage cupboard, thank you.

"Oh good," he says, knocking his hands together. There's no dust to shake free, really, but the sentiment stands. Good. Done with step one of clearing the extraneous bullshit from that dour little room. "Something to look forward to."