Toodleroodle von Skroodledoodler (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doneisdone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2024-04-24 01:29 pm
doneisdone) wrote in faderift2024-04-24 01:29 pm
Entry tags:
[open] braved and beat them on my own
WHO: Teren and you
WHAT: guess who's back. back again
WHEN: post-attack on the Gallows
WHERE: Kirkwall/The Gallows
NOTES: possible discussion of death/grieving, it's a bad time out here
WHAT: guess who's back. back again
WHEN: post-attack on the Gallows
WHERE: Kirkwall/The Gallows
NOTES: possible discussion of death/grieving, it's a bad time out here
I. The Ferry
In order to return to the Gallows, one must first cross the water to get there. A tall, gloomy woman stands stock still by the ferry's railing, in one hand holding the lead rope of a wiry, docile black gelding, with a rucksack slung over the opposite shoulder. She doesn't go out of her way to make conversation, but doesn't completely reject it either, especially if the source is a familiar face.
II. The Gallows
a. With little to be done in the way of settling in-- it's not like there's a chamber to claim-- Teren has pitched a tent in the vicinity of several others, out of the way of most of the recovery work but near enough that she can do some assisting. Riddle, the gelding, is tied off nearby, munching at a feed bag or simply watching the area, content to remain nearby until it's time he's brought to the stables.
People will find themselves assisted whether they asked for it or not: moving debris, extricating pieces of things (and people) from the rubble, building pyres. Making coffee. Stitching torn clothing on the living. It's done without comment by the hard-faced woman, who seems to have arrived just in time to be as helpful as she is unremarkable.
b. At some idle point in the day, someone may spot her visiting Blanche, offering a dead fish and proceeding to, quite uncharacteristically, put her thin arms around the griffon's neck in what looks suspiciously like an embrace. She stays like that for a while, moving only when Blanche begins to fidget.
III. Wildcard
[happy to make bespoke starters, just hit me upppp]
no subject
It relaxes slightly at the sight of Blanche being spoiled: indeed, she deserves it. That griffon's been through a lot.
"You're Nevarran," Teren observes after a beat, her own accent giving away exactly how she knows this.
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- For all that Chantry training, the slant of his vowels suggests: Not a nice part.
"Been years, though," Would have to be. The city's overrun. "Where're you in from?"
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“Here and there,” spoken in Nevarran, “starting from a shithole just east of Perendale. It’s gone now.”
As in, no longer on the map.
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Small comfort. Perendale isn't East of Perendale, and cracking the war back open won't do the survivors any favours. Some things, time just can't erase.
"What brought you back?"
His hand gleams faint green against the morning fog. Cedric's own reasons are plain.
you stii-iiill haa-aaave
It takes her a moment to answer at all, to the point where it may even seem as though she didn't hear the question: her eyes fix on some nondescript part of the ground as she falls completely still, like her entire body is working to process the thought.
"Unfinished business," she finally says, quietly, without looking back at Cedric. She doesn't know this man; he has no right to her truths, to her pain.
no subject
(Does not think how he must have sounded, awake in the dark and confessing, I went back to that street,)
Cedric nods, and wipes his palms on sleeve. Settles for simple:
"Here’s to seeing it through."
no subject
"Here's to that."