[open] braved and beat them on my own

[doneisdone]

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

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]

Comments

[doneisdone]

"Indeed." There's a vote of confidence, Teren thinks, and pauses a moment to give Blanche a stroke from beak to ears.

"Aren't you a nasty little thing," she says fondly, and she might be speaking to Blanche (who is not little) or Vega, who, against all sensibility, is rapidly growing on her.

"What is it you do, then? Protect the griffons?"

[succise]

Why would Teren be speaking to her? She said 'nasty little thing', that couldn't be about Vega.

"No; I ride them. I was wanting to fit Blanche for more gear, we — I broke a saddle, in the battle against the Venatori that topped the tower." So: here she is. "Somebody came off their griffon and Blanche helped me catch them before they fell."

But the gear wasn't used to bear the weight of two. Old, worn straps snapped.

[doneisdone]

"Well done." Directed to Vega, even as Teren gives Blanche's beak another pat.

"But you're not the griffon keeper. Have you another occupation?"

[succise]

"I am in Scouting," she supplies, "But I do not have a title in particular. Yet."

Obviously she will have one, but as she is still new they are still thinking of it. Now, Vega looks put out. "What is yours?"

[doneisdone]

"Senior Warden," Teren grunts back, "also in Scouting. All the better, if we're to be sharing."

Which they are.

[succise]

"Hmm."

Vega appraises Teren one last time, eyeing her intently before she relents. Her arms unfold from where they were, moments before, drawn tight across her chest in a judgemental line. "... Fine.

"You — know Blanche better than I, then. Does she have a favourite treat?"

[doneisdone]

"Venatori thigh," Teren says without thinking for too long, looking admiringly at the creature, "--but in the absence of that, a fish will do."