open; telepathy hijinks for solace and august

[aberratic]

WHO: Ness Tavane (tadfool) and you (with stipulations, see notes)
WHAT: Ness does some telepathy in various areas of the Gallows and elsewhere.
WHEN: Covering Ness' first month in the Gallows.
WHERE: Various!
NOTES: In this thread, Ness will be speaking into characters' minds and hearing their responses. She will NOT be reading any thoughts that are not direct responses to her (that comes later). This may seem like blood magic to natives! I'm cool with negative CR as a result of this. I am not currently interested in Ness experiencing severe IC consequences for this magic at this point, so if your character would rat her out to the cops, I'd prefer they not take part in this log. Remember: snitches get stitches.

i. paper in the archives

At first, Ness spends most of her time in the archives, studying and maintaining her notes. It's a meditative process for her, calming even as she can sometimes get frustrated over the lack of consistency in historical accounts, and she finds genuine joy in taking information from different sources and creating a coherent whole out of it. The only thing keeping this from feeling like a normal day at home, truthfully, is the lack of readily available paper, something which never would have happened at Candlekeeep—there, they had no shortage of vellum, parchment, or paper on which to write, each surface suited for different tools and different jobs and kept in abundant supply. It won't do to keep comparing the archives to Candlekeep, much as Ness is tempted to... but she can't help the small sighs of frustration as her handwriting gets more and more cramped in her attempts to conserve.

I wonder if anyone here has stores of paper they'd be willing to part with, she thinks to herself—herself and anyone within a 30 foot radius of her in the archives at the moment, that is. There's a resonance to her mental voice that's lacking in her normal speech, a sort of echo and hiss that pervades the mind of whoever she's speaking to. It sounds, frankly, a bit sinister.

ii. got a song stuck in your head in the food court

Now that Ness has begun to work on getting her magic under control, she's started, ever so slowly, to allow herself in public spaces again, starting with the dining area. Truth be told, communal dining is one of the more familiar parts of Riftwatch—both in its practicalities and its loneliness. Most of her meals were taken alone in Candlekeep, and most of them here are the same.

She's alone at a table, picking at her plate, when she hears the music pick up. It's unfamiliar, and when she looks up, coming from seemingly nowhere. There's no one with an instrument here in the Gallows, and even if there was, she can't imagine what kind of instrument would make this noise. Not only that, the lyrics get indistinct at points, barely more than humming through a couple of phrases. At first, she tries to just wait for it to end, but the song—it loops, starts again, in the middle of a phrase this time, and Ness can't help the internal groan and frustrated Why me? thought to herself.

iii. observations in the training yard

Mid-month, Ness is taking a few more risks, letting herself out in public more often than not. She hasn't had an uncontrolled tentacles incident in days, and now that she's gaining confidence she wants to see more of the Gallows through eyes untainted by fear. The training grounds are one area she hasn't spent a lot of time in, so they're the subject of today's excursion—not to train in herself, heavens no. She's just here to watch from the sidelines.

Riftwatch is full of people of prodigious athletic talent, she's noticing, watching people drill forms and spar with each other. Handsome people too, and there must be a reason why everyone in the organization seems unreasonably attractive, but why ponder that when she can just enjoy watching very talented people be very attractive with sharp weapons?

Yes, alright, she's just here to ogle the hot people getting sweaty and breathless. Is that a crime?

Someone in particular catches her eye, whether for their impeccable form or their attractive looks or the stormy, brooding focus in their expression. Ness turns all her focus to whoever it is she's been struck by, unthinkingly creating a link between her thoughts and theirs—though her mind is blank, at the moment, too captivated to string together a coherent sentence.

iv. artichoke please no in the eyrie

Later still in the month, now that Ness has had some more practice controlling her more violent, tentacle-y magic, she starts spending more time in the Eyrie. This particular day, she's working with Artichoke, grooming some of the more hard-to-reach pin feathers left behind after a recent moult. Unfamiliar as she is with the care of birds (or bird-like creatures), she's gotten very close to his neck, in order to carefully observe her work and make sure she's not in danger of causing a bleed. The proximity hasn't been a problem with other griffons she's worked with—mostly she's had to worry about her fingers more than her head—so Ness has stopped paying attention to whatever Artichoke is doing.

That was her first mistake.

She first becomes aware of the insistent tug on her hair while she's in the middle of gently rubbing a keratin sheathe off of a pin feather.

"That's very rude," she calls back to whoever is grabbing her hair, but doesn't straighten to look back at them until the feather is fully freed from its sheathe, and the tugging doesn't stop. It gets more insistent, even, and more still as she begins to straighten up and turn around—begins to, because that's when she makes eye contact with Artichoke and realizes exactly who it is who's pulling on her ponytail.

Oh, hells, she thinks, broadcasting it to anyone else visible from Artichoke's nest in the Eyrie. Artichoke pulls again on her ponytail, and Ness stumbles toward him in mounting panic. How in the hells do I get through this without losing my scalp?

v. intrusive thoughts on the ferry

It's the end of her first month in Thedas, the end of her quarantine period, and Ness is finally, finally allowed to leave the Gallows. She's hopped on one of the earlier ferry crossings, excited to at last be able to see the rest of Kirkwall, even in its damaged state, and stands at the rail to watch as they move through the bay. It's a pristine morning. The sun's early rays sparkle on the water, gulls call, and waves lap gently at the side of the ferry. All is peaceful.

A thought, or a series of thoughts, occurs to Ness, halfway across—I could jump in here and drown and no one could stop me. Well, I might not drown immediately. I know the principles of how to swim, would that be enough to get me back to the Gallows? How big are the fish in here, anyway, would that be a concern? Are there sharks? If I jumped in right now how quickly would I become fish food?

These thoughts are all, to a one, broadcasted to someone else on the ferry, in the vaguely sinister, echo-y resonance of Ness' telepathic voice.

Comments

i (lmk if i need to edit anything!)

[tadpoled]

Tav is on another escorted visit to the archive to look for more books on the natural flora to look for on his next camping trip, gods allowing, when he hears something akin to a voice in his head.

It doesn’t sound like the Emperor, but its presence is still quite disturbing.

Who are you? he tries to focus his thoughts enough to answer her question.

[aberratic]

He's probably not expecting the shocked yelp that erupts elsewhere in the archives in response to his question. To be fair, Ness wasn't expecting to hear anyone else's thoughts—this is the first time this has happened to her.

What the fuck!!! is all the response he gets, but if he looks around he might see a petite blonde looking around in confusion, long braid whipping around herself as she twists this way and that in her seat.

[tadpoled]

Tav pauses when he hears the yelp, asking his guards to station by the door. There's no need for them to accidentally intimidate someone who doesn't need intimidating. He spots the blonde whipping this way and that just as her voice hits his mind again.

Is it bad that he can't help his smile? He makes his way past most of the tables until he reaches hers. He offers his brightest smile and taps his temple.

Didn't mean for anyone to hear you?

[aberratic]

Ness doesn't yelp, this time, but she does visibly jump, looking up at the elf in front of her with wide, shocked eyes. It takes a moment or two for her to come up with anything to say, shocked as she is, and this time when she speaks there's an echo—she asks her question aloud at the same time as she projects it into his mind, very eloquently:

"What?"

[tadpoled]

"I've an unfortunate past with someone speaking into my mind," Tav continues to smile. "Tav."

And then he pauses, waiting for a response.

v.

[allthatgleamsisgold]

Vlast is taking one of his bi-weekly little trips out of the city to get himself in practice when a familiar internal sort of pressure nudges up against his own mind, the thoughts unfurling, taking clear shape into something he knows is not his own.

He remembers Aurene, still in her egg as her conscious formed, and then freshly hatched, burdened with the weight of their mother's legacy and so, so full of questions Vlast did not always have answers for.

These are more... rambling than his fledgling sister's.

Vlast keeps his gaze trained on the water below, his perpetual scowl not even flickering.

Do not jump in that water. You're more likely to die of infection than drown.

[aberratic]

The only reason that Ness does not fall into the water in shock is that this isn't the first time this has happened. As it is, she still squeaks and flails and kind of stumbles away from the railing in a small panic.

I wasn't going to, I was just thinking about it!

She looks around, searching out the person whose mind she's unintentionally linked with—her eyes linger on the qunari, but mostly because he's a giant horned person in a crowd of humans, not because she knows he's who's in her head right now.

[allthatgleamsisgold]

You think very loudly, he reprimands, casting a brief glance over his shoulder before exhaling through his nose and returning his attention to the water. There's some tasty looking fish down there and how he feels about a seafood breakfast will determine whether he heads to the foot of Sundermount or the craggy shores of the Wounded Coast to do his hunting.

It's a rare talent. Do you have such mishaps often...?

[aberratic]

I don't intend to, she retorts, a little huffy, answering perhaps both questions at once. I haven't figured out how to control this yet, or what triggers it. I just think and then someone yells at me.

Okay, perhaps to say people yell at her is a bit harsh. But no one's appreciated the intrusion, and while Ness can hardly blame them, it's more than a little galling to have to apologize for something she's not even doing on purpose! She searches the boat still, not yet certain whose mind it is that she's sharing, but there's something of a challenge in that—is there anything she can do with this link to figure it out? Can she get any deeper in his head, would that give her any more insight?

Not that she has any idea how to go about figuring any of that out, but they're useful questions to ask, at least.

Is it a talent you have experience with? It doesn't seem common here.

[allthatgleamsisgold]

With my mother, before she she was slain, he explains, and my sister, before I was. I have no such connection with anyone in this world.

Nor any intention of trying to form one if that was even still a possibility. So, so much had changed when he fell out that rift.

Vlast turns from watching the water, leaning his back against the rail as he scans the small crowd to see if he could discern by sight alone who was groping around in his brain.

How recently have you acquired this power?

iv

[doneisdone]

"Artie," snaps a hawkish voice nearby, "drop."

The wiry older woman has been silently going about her business among the griffons, carrying a bucket of live fish that flop wetly about as she picks up each one to toss them into waiting beaks.

She makes her way over, exasperated, when Artichoke doesn't heed her, and waves a fish to entice him to open his mouth. This time, her gambit works, and he turns his hungry attention toward the treat.

"Bastard," Teren says affectionately, tossing him the fish, with a calculating glance spared to the newcomer.

[aberratic]

As soon as her hair is freed, Ness darts away from the griffon, head low lest he be enticed away from the fish again. She waits anxiously for a moment until she's sure that Artie isn't going to come back for her before turning to her rescuer.

"Thank you, I didn't know how I was going to get out of that," she says, running her hand through her hair, trying to set it to rights.

I'd ask how my hair looks, she thinks, but she doesn't look much like the kind of person who'd care. I'll just have to make sure I get to the baths straight away.

[doneisdone]

All right, that time it definitely wasn't said aloud. Teren falls very still, a hand on Artie's beak, then slowly turns her gaze to Ness, squinting her good eye.

"You an Archdemon?" she asks, in lieu of 'explain please'.

[aberratic]

The energy in the Eyrie gets noticeably chillier, and Ness would have to be far more oblivious than she is to not notice that squint. She blinks at Teren, guileless, but does seem to give the question real thought.

"Not that I'm aware of? Can one be an archdemon and not know, I thought archdemons are very specifically blighted dragons."

[doneisdone]

It's a convincing enough response that Teren's figurative hackles seem to lower, but she continues to eye the girl with a measure of suspicion.

"That they are," she says, "and, as far as I know, are the only sort who can talk to people in their heads." To Wardens, at least.

iv

[laruetheday]

At first Clarisse thinks the voice is Ness calling out from across the eyrie, but just as quickly she realizes that isn't possible. The words are much too clear, and much too close, to be coming from anybody that far away. She half-stands from where she's been crouching on one of the lower perches, shoulders jerking in surprise, and thinks, What the fuck?

But there isn't really time to figure out what's going on, because she sees Ness and Artichoke. Clarisse hops down from the perch and stomps in that direction, fuming. It's not like it's Artie's fault, or Ness's. He's just another casualty of this whole... thing, and Ness doesn't know what she doesn't know. But there is still a knee-jerk, sickening feeling in her whole body when she looks over and sees someone else grooming him.

"Artie!" she snaps, at the same time thinking, Ughhh, not again, "Knock it off!"

She yanks a strip of bacon out of her pouch and holds it in front of his face, shoving her other hand against his lower jaw to force his head up at the same time. Sure enough, his beak opens with a little click and he releases Ness's hair in order to take the food.

[aberratic]

Ness can maybe be forgiven for not realizing that what the fuck didn't come from her own head—she's a bit distracted by trying not to lose her scalp. It's not until Clarisse has stalked over and taken care of the situation that she realizes that anything is amiss, and she can see that while Clarisse's mouth forms "Artie", she very distinctly hears not again.

It's not the first time this has happened, and Ness is just glad it's not a native whose head she's ended up in this time—her understanding of blood magic is far from comprehensive, but she can't imagine any sort of telepathy would be overly accepted here.

Artie lets go of her hair to go for the bacon, and Ness ducks quickly away from him, making sure to face both him and Clarisse, just in case.

The silence that follows is, in a word, awkward.

"So," she says, "this happens often?"

Artie eating hair, that is—telepathy probably isn't a common occurrence.

[laruetheday]

"Yeah."

Even though he doesn't really deserve it, Clarisse lets Artie take the bacon, since otherwise he'll go right back to chomping on something that isn't food. "He's always done this. But he used to have a rider who spent a lot of time up here, and now... well." She shakes her head.

He's, like, depressed, she thinks, deliberately not saying it out loud. Clarisse's thoughts, kind of like her voice, are loud and gruff and fast. In-your-face. "It's good you're spending time with him. Even if he's doing this shit."

She brushes straw off her pants legs and gives Artichoke a disapproving look. Artie, for his part, doesn't seem bothered by the admonishment. He just snaps his beak a few times to get the bacon down his throat and then begins to preen at one of his shoulders dismissively.

[aberratic]

He used to have a rider who spent a lot of time here, Clarisse says, and Ness looks back to Artichoke with new sympathy, frowning. Maybe his rider died in the attack that tore down the towers, or maybe they were a rifter who disappeared one day—either way, the sudden absence of a beloved presence is one Ness can understand. Careful this time, keeping her head and hair further away from his beak, she reaches for him again, stroking and scritching behind his ears.

"No wonder he's depressed, poor thing."

She thinks of lessons skipped, rooms left haphazard, little rebellions when the world had the temerity to keep turning and the sun to keep rising when the one who'd made sense of it was gone. She thinks, I understand, boy, I do.

"I can spend more time with him, if it'd help, but I'd hate to look like I'm trying to replace his rider. You can't replace a bond like that."

[laruetheday]

Clarisse looks away.

She can't help it, it's like an automatic reaction, pressing her lips together to avoid grimacing at the thought of Artie hanging out with another rider. It's not fair. He should have someone taking special care of him, making sure he's getting snacks and attention, because Clarisse sure as shit isn't doing it herself. But it still hurts. The idea of it alone hurts.

"Do whatever you want." It probably makes things awkward, but she can't stop herself. In a wild attempt to change the subject, she says, "What was up with that voice I heard? You were all the way across the eyrie."

She knows it's gotta be some weird telepathy thing, but she needs to hear Ness admit it out loud.

iii.

[elegiaque]

To onlookers, the reaction must look abrupt.

In one moment, Gwenaëlle is moving fluidly through a familiar drill — rehearsing the motions of freeing and holstering blades in motion, utilizing frames to climb and fall and catch herself, a particularly athletic, balletic form of eluding danger and causing it instead — and then she has stopped, frowning, hanging upside down by her knees with a pair of runic daggers ready in her hands. Her braids hang down, nearly touching the ground, and it is a more than slightly unsettling way to make full eye contact with someone.

Or, you know, half eye contact. As the case may be.

She rights herself, sliding blade to holster as she braces to consider the quickest way down, leading with her hips to throw herself from her current vantage point to swing lower until she can safely drop to her feet, the way she was definitely always capable of doing despite several refusals to get out of a tree unless someone caught her.

It's a clever sleight of hand, the way she handles her crystal as if she's just had a message on it, but she marches directly to Ness and catches her by the elbow, walking them both away from the training yard.

[aberratic]

To Ness the reaction is abrupt, who cares about onlookers. One moment she's watching Gwenaëlle drill her forms, flipping and running acrobatically around the grounds,

(clearly the coolest person here, but there's no need to discourage anyone else by saying so,)

and then Gwenaëlle is making eye contact with her in such a way that it is impossible, genuinely impossible to read her expression. Ness doesn't have time to attempt to flip Gwen right-side-up in her own mind to get a read on her before Gwen's done it herself, and marched straight to Ness to boot.

I haven't even done anything, she thinks, bewildered, and

"What did I do?" she says, bewildered.

[elegiaque]

“Magic, I'm assuming,” she says, dryly, but not more than that before they're further away from anyone else's immediate earshot. At which point: “It's in my capacity as Captain of the Watch that I'd like to say to you, I'm aware you're out of quarantine but if you don't know what you just did, then I don't think you should be leaving the Gallows until you can control it.”

She taps the side of Ness's temple—

they've spoken plenty, til now. The voice had been immediately recognisable, and the quality of it very specific. That was not natural. The honest bafflement of her, at least, speaks for itself: not malicious, and not planned.

Good. But that's a different problem, immediately.

“I can find ways to keep you busy here, discreetly, if that's needful. But you need to be mindful of what your mind is doing and I think you have been playing catch up enough here to know why.”

If she hasn't, now's a good time to ask.

[aberratic]

Oh, hells. Ness immediately understands what Gwenaëlle is getting at, and she goes from honestly bewildered to honestly annoyed in seconds—not at Gwenaëlle, no, that would be ridiculous when Gwenaëlle is helping her. No, Ness is annoyed at herself, annoyed that this is still happening without her even realizing she's done it.

"You're absolutely right, Captain," because Gwen is right and Ness wants to make sure it's crystal clear that she both understands and takes seriously the risk this poses. "I'm mindful of the issue at hand, yes. I do have some remedies in place to make leaving the Gallows less of an issue," a gesture to the pouch of vials at her belt, thank you Enchanter Julius and your magebane supply, "but I know I can't rely on them forever, and it'd be unwise to say the least to risk getting caught out far from Riftwatch without them."

It's nothing less than a nightmare scenario, frankly, the idea of being outside the Gallows long enough to run out of magebane with no way to resupply—it'd hardly bear thinking about, except that she must think about it, in order to avoid it.

"I'm getting some help trying to get a handle on this and... other gifts of mine. This one's proven a little harder to manage, though, I can't—"

She cuts herself off with a huff, and visibly refocuses. The Captain of the Watch doesn't want excuses or complaints, she wants to know the situation is under control.

"I'll keep trying, Captain. And," more hesitantly, now, but equally as sincere, "I'm sorry for the intrusion. I didn't really get anything, if it helps. Only purposeful, direct communication really gets through."

[elegiaque]

The quality in her look of annoyed fondness, or at least some kind of amusement wreathed through the exasperation, is particular—

“Believe me, Ennaris,” she says, dryly, “I did not get the impression that what you were looking at was my thoughts.”

She'd probably dispute purposeful, direct communication, too, considering she's almost certain that what she heard was never intended for her ears in or out of her head, but it makes a sort of sense: clearly, Ness had been focused on her in that moment. The magic had done the rest.

(And it's not as if there's anything she thinks of in her head that she's that worried about someone else overhearing. Twice, now, Riftwatch has been dosed to tell the truth and twice, now, she'd not have noticed without being told.)

A sigh. A bump of her shoulder. “You need to practise. If you don't have someone safe to practise with, then it'll be me, but it has to be someone and it has to be high on your priority list. If you do that shit to Redvers, I can't guarantee you don't find yourself down a hand and in the back of a chained Chantry wagon.”