Fade Rift Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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faderift2016-02-23 01:43 am
faderifting) wrote in faderift2016-02-23 01:43 am
OPEN: turn off the lights and I'll glow
WHO: New rifters & characters in Emprise du Lion
WHAT: More people falling on ice than usual, this time with demons, templars, and bonus nighttime
WHEN: Guardian 23
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: This month, the arrival log is open to all.
WHAT: More people falling on ice than usual, this time with demons, templars, and bonus nighttime
WHEN: Guardian 23
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: This month, the arrival log is open to all.
You were asleep--deeply or fitfully, for the last time or just resting your eyes for a moment-- and then you were not. And wherever you were was not, anymore, replaced by nothing but the sensation of falling, tumbling into endless, bottomless nothing. If this were still a dream, you would wake before you hit the ground. You can't die in a dream, they say. In some worlds.
But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact onto freezing stone or ice that is twice as cold and just as hard. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself beneath a dark sky, a full moon straining to be seen through intermittent clouds, and a second moon low on the horizon. Its light reflects off snow to add an eerie ambient glow to the darkness, made stranger by the sickly green tint added by the fluttery menacing shape of the rift hanging in mid-air. Be careful getting up: you are at the edge of a cliff, what was once a waterfall now frozen solid in a massive curling sheet of icicles. The drop to the bottom is several stories, surely a deadly fall even without the huge humps and spikes of ice and snow that litter the ground where splash and spray were petrified.
You are also not as you were: in the palm of your left hand there glows a narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Like the fact that you're being attacked by monsters--some tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes, some hunched and hooded with no eyes at all. Some are entirely different but perhaps more monstrous for it: men and women in heavy, gleaming armor, all of them with chunks of red crystal protruding out in a way you soon realize indicates it is actually growing out of their skin. Their eyes are a dull red, hollow and empty, and they attack with a single-minded determination.
Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are waking up, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. There is stuff scattered about, like the contents of someone's life exploded through the rift with them: a picnic table and benches upended, metal camp furniture flung about, clothes and utensils, bits of wood and canvas and mattress littering the ground. Even better, you are not far from a path leading toward an Inquisition camp, and noise travels far in this terrain, echoing up canyons and off cliffsides, carried by the chill night wind. Help is on its way; just last until it arrives.
But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact onto freezing stone or ice that is twice as cold and just as hard. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself beneath a dark sky, a full moon straining to be seen through intermittent clouds, and a second moon low on the horizon. Its light reflects off snow to add an eerie ambient glow to the darkness, made stranger by the sickly green tint added by the fluttery menacing shape of the rift hanging in mid-air. Be careful getting up: you are at the edge of a cliff, what was once a waterfall now frozen solid in a massive curling sheet of icicles. The drop to the bottom is several stories, surely a deadly fall even without the huge humps and spikes of ice and snow that litter the ground where splash and spray were petrified.
You are also not as you were: in the palm of your left hand there glows a narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Like the fact that you're being attacked by monsters--some tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes, some hunched and hooded with no eyes at all. Some are entirely different but perhaps more monstrous for it: men and women in heavy, gleaming armor, all of them with chunks of red crystal protruding out in a way you soon realize indicates it is actually growing out of their skin. Their eyes are a dull red, hollow and empty, and they attack with a single-minded determination.
Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are waking up, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. There is stuff scattered about, like the contents of someone's life exploded through the rift with them: a picnic table and benches upended, metal camp furniture flung about, clothes and utensils, bits of wood and canvas and mattress littering the ground. Even better, you are not far from a path leading toward an Inquisition camp, and noise travels far in this terrain, echoing up canyons and off cliffsides, carried by the chill night wind. Help is on its way; just last until it arrives.
no subject
"I've hiked in skinny jeans, it can't be that much worse." So she's known for not always picking the most sensible hiking clothes, sue her. Ruby is right that she'd rather not hike in a corset, but she'll figure it out if that's the only option she's got other than a sack. At least as she tucks the red brocade in tighter, it's hard to see the mediocre slip she's got on.
Red isn't the only one wearing a spare flash in her palm. Out of sight, out of mind; not even out of sight, Emma just hasn't had the spare brainpower to think about it. The darkness, the magic flooding her, being transplanted in a new place, it had all taken over. The green light in her palm will freak her out later, no doubt. She didn't really need anything else to worry about, a green light in her palm was probably going to go over great.
"Okay. I'll keep an eye out for them." She isn't exactly excited about the idea of using a dagger but it's better than using magic, at least while she's uncertain about what will happen when she does. "Don't worry about me, Ruby." She's strong all on her own, even when she's not magically invulnerable. With that tacked on there's really not too much to worry about.
no subject
It's a dumb comment, yeah, but what do they need right now if not something stupid to laugh at?
And with that need for a laugh and lightness in mind... Well, that comment just gets a look, Red stopping to catch Emma's gaze for a second. "Hey. You're my friend. I'm going to worry about you," she says with a bit of a smile, before handing over the bodice and the outer layers of her skirt, leaving her pretty much down to underwear and gloves in the snow, nice. Ruby shivers a little, wonders how the hell Emma's been so fine about so few layers, and rolls her shoulders. "Okay. Yell if you need me."
She starts walking up the slope, moving into a run. Red's barely gone three paces when it's a heavy paw hitting the snow instead of bare feet, and the eyes that look back at Emma are glow gold, the heat of her breath fogging the air. The Wolf raises its nose, sniffs the air, and starts its ascent up the hill.
no subject
At least she'll carry them for her, so they don't both end up mostly naked in the snow. Hopefully Ruby comes back with shoes... Emma doesn't want to try poofing some, not when everything is so uncertain with her magic.
Watching her change is something else, though. Despite seeing the wolf and seeing the human, she hadn't seen the transition until now. Her mouth gapes open a little — apparently, even after everything she's seen, that's a new one. It's beautiful and terrifying and amazing all at once. "Sure," she says in a sigh as the wolf bounds away.
She won't end up yelling. Even if it would have been better if she had.