CLOSED: Drakonis Rifter Arrival

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & Solas
WHAT: Arrivals and returns
WHEN: Drakonis 20
WHERE: The Dales
NOTES: This log is slightly backdated and closed to new rifters and Solas. However, it is safe to assume that everyone (a) survives and (b) is led by Solas to Skyhold by Drakonis 25, so you're free to make new logs and begin playing at Skyhold when you're ready to do so.

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 cold dirt and long grass. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself beneath a canopy of trees, illuminated deep green by moonlight in the distance and brighter green by the crystalline tear in reality hanging suspended above you.

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. Surrounding you and the rift through which you arrived is a circle of six ghostly, humanoid figures, shifting colors in the dark like iridescent gems and throwing fire, ice, and bursts of physical force at whomever catches their attention.

Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are rising from the ground, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. And not far is a lone figure, coming to help.

Comments

[parkourprince]

Legolas paused briefly at the offered hand, the first gesture like that offered to him in this world and so he stared a little bit, blinking in his surprise. Among the elves, direct touch was a rare thing reserved primarily for friends and family, and so it took him a moment to actually return the gesture. His own grip was gentle and light, in a way of someone most unused to such.

Still, he smiled all the same, broader after the handshake. “We will remember your name, Captain James Tiberius Kirk,” and he offered his own sort of greeting, the elven equivalent of a handshake, by slightly inclining his head. “For when the time comes.“

Gesturing towards Bill, he introduced the pony, “The one you are indebted to is Bill, and for him speaks Legolas, son of Thranduil. Well met.”

[universal_charm]

It only occurred to Kirk a split second later than hand-shaking might not be something that this man and his ilk did. It was simply so natural for him that he had defaulted to it, and he felt momentarily abashed. He gives a squeeze in return - not hard, but firm and folds his arms to go back to warding off the cold.

"Just Kirk is fine," he assured him. "And it's nice to meet you, Bill. And you too, Legolas. I think I owe you for at least one save during that fight too."

[parkourprince]

Another nod, as Legolas accepted the way of address, his smile a touch mirthful. It was certainly less of a mouthful, not that Legolas truly intended to call him the said mouthful every time.

"I have had a great many friends among the Men, and I have been in a great many battles. It is an instinct, you may say, to protect those with me, and glad I am it has not failed me this time either, in protecting those who deserve it."

Kindness and politeness was always repaid in the same.

Still, Legolas couldn't quite keep his curiosity to himself at the Man's strange dress style. "What kind of a Captain are you, Master Kirk?"