faderift | [open & closed]

WHO: Tavi "Rutyer", Byerly Rutyer, and you! yes, even you!
WHAT: various open and closed starters for this guy, who definitely isn't an Altus mage! definitely probably.
WHEN: the very end of last month throughout the current month.
WHERE: the Gallows, unless otherwise specified.
NOTES: none currently, will update as needed.

i. settling in (closed to Byerly)

The guest quarters--or wherever it is that Byerly has decided to stash him while he conducts his clandestine investigation into his father's whereabouts--isn't much to write home about, but given Tavi has been alternating between sleeping rough and in stables or garden shacks care of the very meagre good will of strangers for the last few days, he is not about to complain. The bed is clean, and it looks like he has a secure enough space to stash his few belongings; in short, it could be much worse.

He hovers by the bed, twisting the worn old shoulder strap of his satchel between his fingers, then turns to look back at Byerly with that gleam of genuine gratitude shining in his eyes. "I really can't thank you enough," he tells him, not for the first time, and tries to still his fidgeting fingers. "I really ought to do something to repay you--or just, something to make myself useful while I'm here."

ii. exploring (open to all)

Tavi has had his fill of Kirkwall after his misadventure in Lowtown, and if the sideways glances he keeps catching from other members of Riftwatch are anything to judge by, he's going to have to work on his cover if he actually expects to fool people in the Gallows into thinking he is who he says he is, too. He stands out not quite like a sore thumb, but even after his years spent in Hunter Fell, there's no mistaking that accent for anything other than Tevene. And a posh one at that.

He tries his best to make up for it; if you encounter him in the library while trying to fetch a book down from a particularly high shelf, he's quite eager to pull up a stepping stool and climb up to fetch it down for you. Are you juggling an armful of boxes, books, or paperwork while simultaneously trying to nudge a closed door open with your foot? Suddenly there's a very earnest, smiling young man holding the door open for you and offering to help carry your burden to wherever it is you're going. Also, if you're a particularly sporty gentleman inclined towards taking your shirt off while exercising or going through sword forms on the training grounds, it is entirely possible that he ends up forgetting what he was doing, and trips over his own feet while admiring your ~~shredded physique~~ technique, of course.

iii. wildcard

[ooc: if none of these work for you or you'd like to hash out something specific, please hmu @ ragweed! actually even if these do work for you, still hmu on plurk c:]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

To... to help. Which, he realizes, as he takes in her maid's apparel and cleaning supplies, is rather foolish of him. This is her job! He should let her do her job. Except he's already holding his hands out, the picture of pleasant solicitude, and if he withdrew now, wouldn't that be subtly (or unsubtly) implying that he believes it's right for her to be doing the cleaning, and the carrying of various cleaning things?

He doesn't lose his smile, but it gains an edge of slight panic. "That--looks heavy," he ventures hesitantly.

"It is," she says with the same caution, but catches that look in his eye, and, well. Fifi doesn't get opportunities like this very often, and it's been a long week.
She hands him the basket with a little smile, then nudges with her head the direction she's intending to go. It's up a lot of stairs. In fact, many more stairs than originally intended.

Tavi exhales a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding when Fifi relents and offers out the basket. Immediately he reaches out to take hold of it and, on some silly impulse he'll devote time to unpacking later, tells her, "thank you," like she's the one doing him a favour, rather than the reverse.

Then she lets go of it, and with a flustered, "ohshit," the basket and his arms both drop nearly a foot through the air, because the supplies are heavy and he has not done a day of manual labour in his life.

"I've got it--!" He manages to recover, hauling it back up before it can hit the ground, and clutches it to his chest. Two blue eyes peer back at her over the top of a mophead, pleading with her not to mock him. "Sorry, which way?"

He receives a winning smile when he thanks her-- all right, that's cute-- and Fifi waits until she sees his eyes again before she beckons him to the stairwell and begins to ascend it.

For seven flights.

"Are you new to Riftwatch, messere?" she asks conversationally after one or two, barely breaking a sweat. She could get used to this.

Edited 2024-03-15 20:39 (UTC)

Half of Tavi's smile, emphasized by his raised eyebrows, is visible from behind that mophead when Fifi smiles at him, and he sets off after her. The first staircase isn't even that much of a challenge, really, because he's been doing lots and lots of walking for the past month and change. It's when he's about halfway up the second one that his body reminds him there is a world of difference between walking along a mostly straight path for a distance, and hauling a heavy load up several stone staircases.

Pink-faced and winded, he perseveres nonetheless...! "Sort of," he replies, gives the basket an adjustment in his arms, and takes another breath. (He's doing great!) "Just visiting my cousin. I'm out," another breath, "seeing the world and just had," this is a really unnecessary number of stairs, "to visit Kirkwall." Kirkwall being such a tourist trap, as everyone knows.

“Ah,” Fifi intones pleasantly over her shoulder, “who is your cousin?”

"Byerly Ruyter." A little half-step shuffle-step when he nearly loses his footing, but he regains it quickly enough. "How many," a breath, "more floors?"

She pauses then, narrowing her eyes slightly, but refrains from commenting aloud: interesting, that Byerly should have a cousin with a high class Tevene accent.

Very interesting.

“Only four,” she says absently, continuing to ascend.

"Four?" His despair is embarrassingly transparent for a second, before he gets it together. "Right--right behind you." Behind you, anyway. Like, way behind.

It's sweet. Sweet enough that she decides to take pity on him-- Maker knows Byerly's probably putting him through enough.

"Actually," she says, "I did need to attend to a spot on the fifth floor. We can stop there first, if you'd be so kind."

"Oh, are you sure?" he asks, entirely sincere, but he's already weakly lowering the heavy basket of supplies down to the stone floor--and going down with them, as it happens, wilting down onto the step with legs that wobble embarrassingly like a colt's.

He closes his eyes, defeated, and lets his head 'thunk' weakly back against the stone wall while trying to catch his breath. A beat, and then:

"Sorry," he says, admitting defeat with a grimace. "I suppose I'm not very much help to you after all."

Fifi smiles. He's trying, which means he passed the test-- not that she knew she was testing him, but it's become clearer now.

"It's all right," she says, backtracking a bit to pick up the basket herself once more, which she holds with relative poise despite her diminutive frame. "Merci."
She pliés into a little curtsy, her smile reaching her eyes.

Pink-faced and winded though he is, that plié and warm smile nevertheless coax a sheepish but genuine one out of Tavi in return. He drops his eyes down bashfully; there's nothing flirtatious about the gesture, just some boyish chagrin at having an obvious shortcoming made all the more obvious by his own determination to be useful.

He makes a vague, tired gesture with one hand. "If you ever need anything healed, spiritually," he says, "I'll be much more helpful. I promise."

With a warm nod, Fifi acknowledges the offer and then turns to continue about her work. ok honey <3

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