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

[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.

[aberratic]

It does make things awkward, a little, but that's alright. Loss isn't just wrenching and painful and senseless, it can be awkward too. Ness opens her mouth to say... something, probably something ultimately unhelpful even if entirely well-meaning, and then she closes it again, trying not to look guilty.

"Is that why you came over? I'd thought maybe you'd just seen me struggling."

She's not avoiding the question, exactly, so much as she's trying to figure out the best way to answer it. It helps that Clarisse isn't a native, and (probably) won't be given to demonic accusations, but even without such concerns, she's finding that telepathy is a hard sell.

"Before I arrived here, I was... abducted, I suppose is the best way to put it. Since then, I've been able to... do things. Telepathic conversation is a new talent, I guess you could say. I haven't got the hang of using it on purpose, yet, it just happens sometimes. It never lasts more than a minute."

So their link should be severed all on its own by now.

[laruetheday]

"So it works both ways?"

Clarisse doesn't look happy about this development, but it's because she doesn't want anyone hearing her thoughts, not because she thinks the act of telepathy is demonic.

Also, holy shit, that's a lot to unpack. Abducted? She'll get back to it in a minute. First things first—

"Look, I'll tell you something someone told me once. Be really careful who you do that in front of. Who you talk about it in front of, even. People here get really freaked out by anything they think might be blood magic."

[aberratic]

"I can't literally read your thoughts," she hastens to explain, "or dig around in your mind without your being aware of it. All I can do is have a conversation, like we're doing right now. All I get are the purposeful, directed thoughts, nothing any deeper."

It's hard to explain, even harder to make sound not-so-invasive, but hopefully that can go at least a small way toward making her sound less terrible. If necessary, she's prepared to spend several more minutes explaining why this isn't blood magic, and Clarisse shouldn't be afraid of her, but... People are always surprising her, here.

"I know. I'm trying to get control of it before I go anywhere outside the Gallows for that precise reason." All said using her most serious, no-nonsense tone. "I don't want to give anyone reason to be afraid of me, or to accuse Riftwatch of harboring blood mages. I understand... or, I at least have a grasp of the risks. Wandering Lowtown isn't worth the potential problems I could cause."

[laruetheday]

Clarisse isn't scared. Now that Ness has assured her that she can't do anything other than read the thoughts she's directing, she doesn't even seem all that bothered anymore. It's weird, yeah, but no weirder than prophetic dreams or sailing a ship full of dead people.

"Riftwatch would have your back," she says, a touch more confidently than she really believes. It's not that she thinks they'd abandon her necessarily, just that Riftwatch is pragmatic.

"You've seriously never been outside the Gallows? This whole time?" Aside from when she rifted in, that is.

how is this so old, a million gomens

[aberratic]

That's a very comforting sentiment, but Ness certainly doesn't look like she's willing to try it out; she just hums a little noncommittally, and, now that she's slightly more sure she's not going to have to try to flee the scene or something, starts trying to comb the knots Artie chewed into her hair out with her fingers.

"It's not safe for me to leave, while this is happening," is all the explanation she feels she needs to offer, shrugging. Would it be nice to see the rest of Kirkwall? Absolutely! Is she going to put herself and all of Riftwatch and possibly, if things really go to shit, all of Thedas at risk just so she can avoid cabin fever? Fuck no.

no worries!

[laruetheday]

"If that's what you want."

Clarisse isn't going to argue about it if Ness feels like she needs to stay in the Gallows. If she spends another few weeks here, maybe she'll get FOMO about other people going out on missions and change her mind.

"You're going to be bored as hell, though." Not even going into Kirkwall? Eesh.

[aberratic]

"Bored?"

Ness looks at Clarisse blankly, uncomprehending. There's so much to do, and learn, and read—just here in the Gallows, she has work enough to last her months, if she needs it. Boredom is not anywhere close to her list of concerns.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse looks back at her, just as uncomprehending. Reading isn't really on her list of fun things to do, and it doesn't occur to her that it would be on someone else's. Dumb, since she sees Abby doing it often enough.

"Yeah, with nothing to do but walk around the Gallows? I was going crazy by the time my quarantine ended. First thing I did was get on the ferry go exploring." Not happily, mind. But she had to do something.

[aberratic]

Equally as dumb, it doesn't occur to Ness that people might not like to read—she grew up in a library, liking books has never been a question to her.

"Nothing to do but the books, you mean," a gentle reminder, because obviously Clarisse must have just taken those as a given. Perhaps she reads very quickly, and expects that Ness has finished making her way through the archives already. "I read quickly, it's true, but taking notes at the same time has drawn out some of the texts beyond what time I might have spent on them otherwise. I still have quite a few to go before I'm satisfied I've learned enough not to make a fool of myself outside the Gallows."

[laruetheday]

"Oh," Clarisse says, realization landing. Oh, right, people read books. Some people love to read books. She can think of few things that would be more frustrating than staying cooped up on this little island and struggling her way through the collection in the library, but obviously not everybody feels that way.

Weird.

"I haven't read any books here and I haven't made a fool of myself in Kirkwall." It's not defensive, exactly, but it could shift that way.

[aberratic]

Ness opens her mouth to say something appeasing, something about how Clarisse clearly has social skills that Ness simply couldn't trust herself to employ without having done the research first,

but then the rest of the sentence processes and she's too shocked to worry about smoothing any potentially ruffled feathers.

"Haven't read—not any? Not at all?"

That not everyone loves to read is something Ness is conceptually aware of, but that they might not read at all—

"Were you never taught to?"

That's the only reason someone wouldn't read at all, surely, is if they couldn't.

[laruetheday]

"Of course I was taught to."

The tips of Clarisse's ears are burning. She knows that, if she were to look in a mirror, they'd be red. This is not Ness's fault, it's simply one of those conversations that never gets less embarrassing. It would almost be easier if it was just that she'd never been taught how to read, because then she could learn. Instead it's like trying to explain to someone why she sat through a bunch of art classes but still can't draw anything better than stick figures.

"I have this... thing. My brain is wired to read and write in a different language, so in English—Common—the letters swim around, get mixed up." She has no idea if Ness knows what dyslexia is, or if she's from one of those worlds where Clarisse would just be considered stupid (hell, even in her own world, a lot of people thought she was stupid), so she's keeping it simple.

"I can read," she says. "I just don't do it unless I have to." She reads stuff for work! Slowly. And she writes reports and then makes Abby fix them for her.

[aberratic]

There's no word for such a condition in Faerûn, but it's not unheard of. Sometimes people can't see letters right, or numbers, or a bunch of other things—minds can be funny, that way, and it doesn't make any of the people suffering less intelligent, it just means they can't do a thing that other people can.

That's what Ness has read, anyway.

"That—pardon me for saying so, but as someone who loves to read, that sounds awful. I'm sorry."

She's utterly sincere, at least, even if perhaps mildly offensive. In the ensuing silence, she finishes combing her fingers through her hair, setting it to rights as much as she's able, and then looks up at Clarisse.

"Would you like to read more? I could read to you, if you wanted."

[laruetheday]

The burning in her ears has spread to the rest of her face. Gods dammit.

"It's not awful. I don't mind it." She's never known anything else, so having an inherent love of reading seems just as foreign to her as hating it does to Ness. "And no. I don't need anybody to read to me."

Her tone is short, but it's hard to pinpoint whether it's anger or just embarrassment. Maybe if she hadn't recently gotten this promotion, she would be flying off the handle in a more obvious way, but right now Clarisse is working very, very hard to seem capable of keeping this position. Emotionally.

"I should get back to work."

🎀 sorry clarisse...

[aberratic]

'Hard to pinpoint' only applies to reasonable, well-adjusted people—Ness defaults to angry over embarrassment immediately, and freezes in horror. Her fight-or-flight is kicking in, harder than it did when she thought she was about to be accused of blood magic.

"Of course," she says, strangled but steady. "I have to go—my hair is a mess, so I should. Yes."

This isn't the end of the world. Clarisse doesn't have the power to boot her out of Riftwatch, and she hasn't fucked up so bad that Clarisse would publically accuse her as a blood mage. She may have stuck her foot in her mouth, but that's not the end of the world. Everything is fine.

"Okay, I'm gonna—go. Bye. Bye!"

Flight beats fawn as Ness takes off from the Eyrie to go have a panic attack in the baths.