[As threatened, deposited in Abby's mail cubby in the dining hall is a packet of papers with a handwritten (distinctly lovely handwriting at that) questionnaire. The following instructions are pinned to its cover: 'Welcome to Riftwatch! Please fill out the following survey to the best of your ability and return it the Project Felandaris offices, to the attention of Wysteria de Foncé. Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to reach out for clarification. Best Wishes, W.A. de Foncé, Research Division.'
The following survey is...expansive.]
The following survey is...expansive.]
Questionnaire Section A
Of and Relating Specifically to the Rifter Population in the Gallows (Kirkwall, The Free Marches, 9:47)
Question 1A. Conceptually, how familiar are the Fade and the Veil to you? Are there similar phenomena (however minor the resemblance) in the place from which you came?
Question 2A. If yes, is energy drawn and/or emitted from or through it? Do cognizant beings (spirits, full bodied manifestations similar to a Rifter, and so on) pass through it?
Question 3A. Does "magic" exist in your world?Question 3A.(i). If "magic" exists in your world, is it somehow tied to or sustained by this other space?
Question 3A.(ii). If "magic" exists in your world and there is no such alternative dimension as referenced in Question 1A., from where does it originate?Question 4A. Given the opportunity to objectively estimate your own physical conformation and comeliness against the general populace of the world from which you came, where on a scale of one through ten might you be ranked (for the purposes of this survey, please consider the numerical score of five (5) as average for your home world)?Disregard. This question has been deemed inessential.Questionnaire Section B
Rift Anchors, with Respect to All Who Presently Possess ThemQuestion 5B. How long have you had your rift shard?Irrelevant; it is assumed you received it upon arrival through the Rift. However, you are welcome to detail any notes you may have on it here.Question 6B. Are you able to perform any supernatural acts with the power of your rift shard beyond closing Rifts? If yes, please detail these abilities. Irrelevant; recorded with your personnel file. Please update W.A. Poppell should your rift anchor develop any additional effects.
Question 7B. Do you have any other abilities, such as mage talent? If so, has the presence of the rift shard or your time in Thedas affected your ability whatsoever (please note whether this is a negative or a positive effect)?
Question 8B. At what point would you take surgical measures to rid yourself of your anchor shard?Question 8B.(i). Would you permit scientific observation of the process?
Question 8B.(ii). Would you permit samples to be taken from the limb?
(PLEASE NOTE that the authors of this survey do not advocate for preemptive amputation unless strictly recommended by a trusted medical professional.)
Edited 2021-08-02 07:53 (UTC)
(oh, wow. okay. is this homework? abby reads the survey over while she's eating dinner, chewing her way through all of the questions in her head. the handwriting is very lovely, that's certainly true. even the paper has a bit of weight to it, like she didn't rip it out of a book, or a folder first.
abby fully intends to dedicate only two minutes to this, but it's clear that she gets into the spirit of it once she's started, evidenced by the answers slowly lengthening down the page. she writes on both sides, cramping her handwriting up so she doesn't have to waste any of the paper. old habits, etc. wysteria will receive one (1) page in reply, folded neatly into quarters and handed into the project felandaris offices bearing her full name.)
𝘈𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘈
1𝘈) 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦
2𝘈) 𝘕𝘈
3𝘈) 𝘕𝘰
5𝘉) 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.
6𝘉) 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵?
7𝘉) 𝘕𝘰𝘱𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮.
8𝘉) 𝘐𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦. 𝘖𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
8𝘉 𝘪) 𝘜𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩. 𝘕𝘰? 𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦.
8𝘉 𝘪𝘪) 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦? 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦?? 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬; 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵
𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵? 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳-𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺.
abby fully intends to dedicate only two minutes to this, but it's clear that she gets into the spirit of it once she's started, evidenced by the answers slowly lengthening down the page. she writes on both sides, cramping her handwriting up so she doesn't have to waste any of the paper. old habits, etc. wysteria will receive one (1) page in reply, folded neatly into quarters and handed into the project felandaris offices bearing her full name.)
𝘈𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘈
1𝘈) 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦
2𝘈) 𝘕𝘈
3𝘈) 𝘕𝘰
5𝘉) 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.
6𝘉) 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵?
7𝘉) 𝘕𝘰𝘱𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮.
8𝘉) 𝘐𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦. 𝘖𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
8𝘉 𝘪) 𝘜𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩. 𝘕𝘰? 𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦.
8𝘉 𝘪𝘪) 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦? 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦?? 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬; 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵
𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵? 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳-𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺.
[There's no mirth in his voice. No feathering sweetness or lilting patterns. Only darkness, deep and warning— the antithesis of everything he normally projects.]
I found her, by the way. Your assailant.
I found her, by the way. Your assailant.
A familiar kite-shaped package is waiting for Abby outside her door when she returns to her room after mid-day. There is an accompanying note tucked into the twine securing the burlap covering in place.
I've business to complete outside the city, and I'm limited in what I can strap to my horse. I would consider it a favor if you would put this to good use in my absence, rather than letting it sit idle in my room.
I'll return to collect it after my business outside Kirkwall is complete.
— Ellis
[ Several items are at Abby's mail cubby when she next checks it, boxed and wrapped in a dark blue wrapping paper with birds on it.
One is a peacoat with a hood, made to Abby's specifications (someone memorized her measurements after the party shopping spree) with room for her arms/shoulders to get larger, just in case.
There's also set of opal collar pins with a chain in one of the pockets.
Other people got her things he was considering, such as gloves and a new mace, but there's also the card to a local armorer in one of the pockets, who informs Abby, should she ask about this card, that he's received payment to cover the deposit needed for any armor of her choice. ]
One is a peacoat with a hood, made to Abby's specifications (someone memorized her measurements after the party shopping spree) with room for her arms/shoulders to get larger, just in case.
There's also set of opal collar pins with a chain in one of the pockets.
Other people got her things he was considering, such as gloves and a new mace, but there's also the card to a local armorer in one of the pockets, who informs Abby, should she ask about this card, that he's received payment to cover the deposit needed for any armor of her choice. ]
Finding Abby in the training yard is, actually, an accident.
At least, he didn't come out looking for her, evidenced by the throwing axe at his belt. It gleams in the way of new, unused weapons; he'd had the thought of learning how to use it right, practicing, even as he'd received it, and the recent attack of the undead has only further convinced him of the necessity.
That, and the sense that spending some time throwing sharp objects at dummies can only help his mood. Sometimes you just need a metaphorical punching bag.
Regardless: he pauses when he sees her, approaches with a wave.
At least, he didn't come out looking for her, evidenced by the throwing axe at his belt. It gleams in the way of new, unused weapons; he'd had the thought of learning how to use it right, practicing, even as he'd received it, and the recent attack of the undead has only further convinced him of the necessity.
That, and the sense that spending some time throwing sharp objects at dummies can only help his mood. Sometimes you just need a metaphorical punching bag.
Regardless: he pauses when he sees her, approaches with a wave.
Abby is there for very similar reasons that he is.
New weapon; Satinalia; recent attack of the undead; this isn't the first outing that the mace has been on, but Abby is still keen to practice with it. Hitting skeletons had been very rewarding, assured her of how much more suitable a weapon it is, but she still has a few creases to iron out before it feels completely at home in her hands.
There's a dummy limp at her feet. The face has caved in.
She pauses with the mace held high over her head in both hands, and brings it down into the chest of her target with a great slam. That's the cool thing about using a weapon covered in spikes: it stays right where you put it. She returns Holden's wave.
"Hey." She recognises him from around the towers; they've spoken once, or twice.
New weapon; Satinalia; recent attack of the undead; this isn't the first outing that the mace has been on, but Abby is still keen to practice with it. Hitting skeletons had been very rewarding, assured her of how much more suitable a weapon it is, but she still has a few creases to iron out before it feels completely at home in her hands.
There's a dummy limp at her feet. The face has caved in.
She pauses with the mace held high over her head in both hands, and brings it down into the chest of her target with a great slam. That's the cool thing about using a weapon covered in spikes: it stays right where you put it. She returns Holden's wave.
"Hey." She recognises him from around the towers; they've spoken once, or twice.
[He meets her in Lowtown, the alley where they’d first met. Neutral territory, and unlike his home, won’t put her back on her heels only a few steps into conversation (and not the Gallows, either, where Astarion frequently sours over the miserable history that clings miasmic to its high walls).
The moment he sees her, he doesn’t wait.]
You said you wanted to talk. [It isn’t barbed or sharp, it isn’t cruel or pushing— only a little wary.
Which is, for the record, what he is by default in everything.]
So talk.
The moment he sees her, he doesn’t wait.]
You said you wanted to talk. [It isn’t barbed or sharp, it isn’t cruel or pushing— only a little wary.
Which is, for the record, what he is by default in everything.]
So talk.
(... Uh yeah she was going to, but he just had to get the first word in didn't he. She regards him with both arms folded across her chest, containing herself. It's for his safety; her feelings toward him are volatile at best. She's still testing them, prodding gently at bruising skin.
In short: Abby has been thinking about this a lot, specifically what she wants. She's decided what would make this feel right instead of fragile, imbalanced.)
I want you to tell me something about yourself.
(There could be room for a sly comment here which is why she keeps going, determined to stomp out any opportunity for him to make one of his shit, crass jokes. It would ruin the entire conversation before its really started,) Something like what that place took from me.
(Something of equal value.)
It's only fair.
In short: Abby has been thinking about this a lot, specifically what she wants. She's decided what would make this feel right instead of fragile, imbalanced.)
I want you to tell me something about yourself.
(There could be room for a sly comment here which is why she keeps going, determined to stomp out any opportunity for him to make one of his shit, crass jokes. It would ruin the entire conversation before its really started,) Something like what that place took from me.
(Something of equal value.)
It's only fair.
What's wrong with the Four Humours?
[ Quick and to the point, sadly. ]
[ Quick and to the point, sadly. ]
It's late. Well into the wee hours of the morning, when everyone respectable is well asleep, and Ellie doesn't have a mind to wake anyone.
The slice had been a stupid mistake, one of those things one didn't really notice until the blood stopped pumping and one was well away from the danger, then glanced down and wondered why there was a giant stain.
All told, Ellie's more pissed about the ruined breeches than she is about the slice running across her hipbone. It's deep enough to need stitches, but only just. Definitely not anything to wake anybody up over. Something she can take care of, herself.
So Ellie posts herself up in one of the kitchens, where the fire's banked with coals. She turns up an oil lamp, sets it on the counter, and squints in the shitty light at the shitty angle.
The fourth time she can't thread the fucking needle, Ellie swears under her breath, soft and frustrated with herself and her stupid fingers. Or lack of them, really.
The slice had been a stupid mistake, one of those things one didn't really notice until the blood stopped pumping and one was well away from the danger, then glanced down and wondered why there was a giant stain.
All told, Ellie's more pissed about the ruined breeches than she is about the slice running across her hipbone. It's deep enough to need stitches, but only just. Definitely not anything to wake anybody up over. Something she can take care of, herself.
So Ellie posts herself up in one of the kitchens, where the fire's banked with coals. She turns up an oil lamp, sets it on the counter, and squints in the shitty light at the shitty angle.
The fourth time she can't thread the fucking needle, Ellie swears under her breath, soft and frustrated with herself and her stupid fingers. Or lack of them, really.
Abby's one of the less respectable then, up way past her bedtime but irritatingly restless. It's difficult to get comfortable in the aftermath of having almost been kidnapped... and even harder to stay in a room that feels so far away from where Loki has been dozing off his poisoning. The current idea is that walking herself around the perimeter of the mansion they're occupying might soothe her anxiety, and moving her legs does help.
Stumbling across Ellie in one of the kitchens doesn't, but you can't have everything.
She's not in the mood for talking to her and almost turns to leave when she suddenly notices the wicked gash across Ellie's bare hip, tilted up into the circle of light cast by her dingy oil lamp.
"Shit," she hisses, angry with how hard her pulse is beating. That scared her. "Are you okay?"
She makes herself go closer to confirm that she is. The cut is nothing too serious: deep in a few places, and wanting only stitches. Nasty place to get an injury. She'll feel it tugging while she walks.
Stumbling across Ellie in one of the kitchens doesn't, but you can't have everything.
She's not in the mood for talking to her and almost turns to leave when she suddenly notices the wicked gash across Ellie's bare hip, tilted up into the circle of light cast by her dingy oil lamp.
"Shit," she hisses, angry with how hard her pulse is beating. That scared her. "Are you okay?"
She makes herself go closer to confirm that she is. The cut is nothing too serious: deep in a few places, and wanting only stitches. Nasty place to get an injury. She'll feel it tugging while she walks.
So. [Delicately? Maybe?] You and Ellie.
You can tell me to piss off if you want, but you two don't seem to get along. [Said in that tone that fully knows that seems to be an understatement.]
You can tell me to piss off if you want, but you two don't seem to get along. [Said in that tone that fully knows that seems to be an understatement.]
(Oh goddamnit–
She sits on that urge to tell him just that, to piss off, that it's none of his fucking business, that the show's over and it's time for him to go away and leave her alone; It's not his fault. She isn't angry with him.)
Yeah, (is her clipped response. Still working on lowering those hackles.) I thought–
(After what happened in Antiva... she mutters,) Thought we were getting somewhere. But obviously not.
She sits on that urge to tell him just that, to piss off, that it's none of his fucking business, that the show's over and it's time for him to go away and leave her alone; It's not his fault. She isn't angry with him.)
Yeah, (is her clipped response. Still working on lowering those hackles.) I thought–
(After what happened in Antiva... she mutters,) Thought we were getting somewhere. But obviously not.
What do you call the half-enemy of a good friend?
Spoke with her, whatever the diction is.
Spoke with her, whatever the diction is.
[It isn't often Fenris comes to the Gallows. Less often still he chooses to take his meals there, but sometimes needs must, and there are worse things to eat than a communal stew. Besides: it's better than his own meager efforts; Fenris has lived on his own for a long time, but that hasn't really translated to much in the way of cooking skills.
He's settled next to Abby, pleased to have spotted her, content to pass a meal with her. They've talked of idle things up until now: struggles in training Ataashi, various fighting techniques. Maybe an upcoming mission with Forces, who knows? But what it circles around to, sooner or later, is:]
Ellie has made it habit to break in.
[He doesn't sound displeased.]
Not often, but sometimes. And to visit Astarion, not me. But I suppose it is nice to have refuge away from the Gallows.
[And . . . he isn't quite sure of how to say what he wants to say next, fearing it coming out too soppily. It leaves him with a mild grimace, his expression unsure, before he adds:]
You are welcome to do the same, if the need takes you, though I ask you use the front door, not a window. We have a great many rooms, and use very few of them.
He's settled next to Abby, pleased to have spotted her, content to pass a meal with her. They've talked of idle things up until now: struggles in training Ataashi, various fighting techniques. Maybe an upcoming mission with Forces, who knows? But what it circles around to, sooner or later, is:]
Ellie has made it habit to break in.
[He doesn't sound displeased.]
Not often, but sometimes. And to visit Astarion, not me. But I suppose it is nice to have refuge away from the Gallows.
[And . . . he isn't quite sure of how to say what he wants to say next, fearing it coming out too soppily. It leaves him with a mild grimace, his expression unsure, before he adds:]
You are welcome to do the same, if the need takes you, though I ask you use the front door, not a window. We have a great many rooms, and use very few of them.
(Fenris has also been fed a funny story about a rambunctious puppy meeting Ataashi for the first time earlier in the week, so even stray mentions of Ellie can't sour Abby's evening. She's comfortable as she is, sandwiched into a corner across from Fenris as they chat over their empty bowls. What he says even gets a rare smile out of her.)
Don't worry, (she jokes,) crawling through the Chantry window got it out of my system. (She will be a normal person, Ellie. She will knock on the door and go through that door.
... But be honest, Fenris,) Are you inviting me to a sleepover?
Don't worry, (she jokes,) crawling through the Chantry window got it out of my system. (She will be a normal person, Ellie. She will knock on the door and go through that door.
... But be honest, Fenris,) Are you inviting me to a sleepover?
It's shockingly late in the evening when Abby's crystal crackles to life. 'If you're in the Gallows,' says the Forces Commander, his brusque timbre clearly cut over it. 'Report to my office at once.'
When she arrives, the room is warm and the air dense. The thick stone walls may rebuff the heat of a Kirkwall summer for much of the day, but eventually the weather can be trusted to penetrate and then linger despite whatever windows (all of them) may be cranked partly open or the door left open to the ancillary quarters in a desperate bid for a bit of airflow. There is, mercifully, no fire in the hearth, though it makes for a somewhat gloomily lit after hours meeting.
"Bolt the door behind you if you would," Flint instructs from where he's standing near one of the cracked windows behind the desk on the far side of the long room.
When she arrives, the room is warm and the air dense. The thick stone walls may rebuff the heat of a Kirkwall summer for much of the day, but eventually the weather can be trusted to penetrate and then linger despite whatever windows (all of them) may be cranked partly open or the door left open to the ancillary quarters in a desperate bid for a bit of airflow. There is, mercifully, no fire in the hearth, though it makes for a somewhat gloomily lit after hours meeting.
"Bolt the door behind you if you would," Flint instructs from where he's standing near one of the cracked windows behind the desk on the far side of the long room.
He's lucky to catch her on the way out of the Tower, the blunt order receiving an instantaneous heel turn away from the promise of late night run and bath (a tried and true method of wearing herself out well enough to sleep, deeply). Abby, plucking at her shirt and sniffing it, decides that she doesn't have time to change. Flint gets what he gets.
She bolts the door without a word, casting a glance around the dimly lit room and Flint, brooding by the window, staring at her. There is no new map unfurled on the desk between the both of them for Abby to point at, and mark with paper scraps. It makes sense. She hasn't done any notable work as of late, only duties, rounds. Errands.
... Oh, shit.
Is she in trouble or something?
"Reporting for duty," she says, and fires off a little mock salute his way; getting a joke in quick, before he tears her to shreds for the unknown offense.
She bolts the door without a word, casting a glance around the dimly lit room and Flint, brooding by the window, staring at her. There is no new map unfurled on the desk between the both of them for Abby to point at, and mark with paper scraps. It makes sense. She hasn't done any notable work as of late, only duties, rounds. Errands.
... Oh, shit.
Is she in trouble or something?
"Reporting for duty," she says, and fires off a little mock salute his way; getting a joke in quick, before he tears her to shreds for the unknown offense.
They pass each other in the hallway, and Ellie has to do a double take. It can't have been all that long since Abby got back from whatever mission she was on, but she looks... out of it. Not hurt, maybe a little pale, but healthy, just.
Just-
Out of it.
It bothers her. Ellie can't say why it does, but she's seen Abby go through some of the worst things a person can go through, and still keep on trucking.
Whatever is fucking with her now can't be something small.
Ellie puts it off until she sees her again, doubting her own unsettled mood; she's got a plate for herself from the dining hall, had planned to eat in her room and go over some more of this map shit she was working on with Flint and Mobius. Abby's either heading there or heading back, and this time, Ellie watches her.
Worse, she doesn't think Abby's even realized she's there. Which is... not ego, not really; but Ellie was once the most dangerous force of nature in Abby's life, and they always have some awareness of each other. Always.
Something is deeply wrong.
Ellie stops in the hallway, dead center, where Abby will be forced to run into her or stop, if she doesn't change course.
Just-
Out of it.
It bothers her. Ellie can't say why it does, but she's seen Abby go through some of the worst things a person can go through, and still keep on trucking.
Whatever is fucking with her now can't be something small.
Ellie puts it off until she sees her again, doubting her own unsettled mood; she's got a plate for herself from the dining hall, had planned to eat in her room and go over some more of this map shit she was working on with Flint and Mobius. Abby's either heading there or heading back, and this time, Ellie watches her.
Worse, she doesn't think Abby's even realized she's there. Which is... not ego, not really; but Ellie was once the most dangerous force of nature in Abby's life, and they always have some awareness of each other. Always.
Something is deeply wrong.
Ellie stops in the hallway, dead center, where Abby will be forced to run into her or stop, if she doesn't change course.
Ellie is half-right: something was deeply wrong, but it's over now. It's fine. Everybody in their group came back alive, against every odd, and the battle has bloodstained the edges of Abby's mind anyway. Around the Gallows, she's on autopilot, walking just to walk. Eating just to do something with her hands. She's not wholly present. Has to strain her ears to hear over what feels like rushing water, sloshing about in her brain.
She does actually bump up into Ellie in the corridor, enough that she grunts, "Shit, sorry," and takes her by the shoulders to steady her. Then, blinking, she goes, "It's you." Like that makes it okay.
Ellie's got a weird look on her face. Abby frowns and says, "What," a little self-consciously. She's really not in the mood for Ellie's particular shit right now, okay. "Do you need something?"
She does actually bump up into Ellie in the corridor, enough that she grunts, "Shit, sorry," and takes her by the shoulders to steady her. Then, blinking, she goes, "It's you." Like that makes it okay.
Ellie's got a weird look on her face. Abby frowns and says, "What," a little self-consciously. She's really not in the mood for Ellie's particular shit right now, okay. "Do you need something?"
Clarisse isn't a big smoker on her own, necessarily, but look—she has a jar full of pre-rolled joints in her possession, and sometimes living in the Gallows can be juuuust boring and/or depressing enough to make her feel the need to be high in order to deal with it.
She also doesn't typically smoke in the room, since she... shares the room, with Abby, and no offense but Abby seems like the type who'd get bothered if her library books got smoky.
But she is smoking in there today, sprawled on her bed with her head hanging down, hair nearly brushing the floor. When Abby unlocks the door and enters, Clarisse gives her a slow, languid wave.
"Hiii."
She also doesn't typically smoke in the room, since she... shares the room, with Abby, and no offense but Abby seems like the type who'd get bothered if her library books got smoky.
But she is smoking in there today, sprawled on her bed with her head hanging down, hair nearly brushing the floor. When Abby unlocks the door and enters, Clarisse gives her a slow, languid wave.
"Hiii."
She absolutely is that kind of person. At the same time she's so deficient in fucks to give that seeing Clarisse draped across her bed and tilting toward the floor just makes her snort-laugh when she gets in. She closes the door. Don't wanna let the smoke out.
And it's pretty Manny-adjacent behaviour, really, so it feels... homey??
"Hey."
She dumps her bag by the door, kicks off her shoes. She leaves them by the door with the tongues pulled out, so they're ready to throw on at a moment's notice. Old habits die hard. "Having fun?"
And it's pretty Manny-adjacent behaviour, really, so it feels... homey??
"Hey."
She dumps her bag by the door, kicks off her shoes. She leaves them by the door with the tongues pulled out, so they're ready to throw on at a moment's notice. Old habits die hard. "Having fun?"
crystal; post normal seattle | (places coin in slot) thread please
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notathreat
2023-01-25 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
Abby? You around?
A few nights after their return to the Gallows after the weirdness in the Arlathan temple, and Clarisse doesn't come back to the room she shares with Abby. In itself, that's not weird, especially lately. What is weird is the way she comes back in the early morning, at a time when she knows Abby will still be there, looking pale and upset and like she hasn't slept well, or slept at all.
She lingers in the doorway like she isn't sure she should come inside, like suddenly she's not sure the space is hers, too, anymore. Abby's awake, and that's what she wanted, but part of her had also been hoping that maybe she'd still be sleeping. That maybe they could put this off a while longer.
"Hey," she says, presses her lips into a thin, bloodless line. "You got a minute?"
She lingers in the doorway like she isn't sure she should come inside, like suddenly she's not sure the space is hers, too, anymore. Abby's awake, and that's what she wanted, but part of her had also been hoping that maybe she'd still be sleeping. That maybe they could put this off a while longer.
"Hey," she says, presses her lips into a thin, bloodless line. "You got a minute?"
Clarisse certainly does bring a very weird energy into their room. Abby hasn't been awake for very long, she was having a weird dream. Not a nightmare per say, just – a weird amalgamation of different things, some humble task she was doing that inexplicably felt like a live or die situation, and Flint grading her on it for some reason? All of her hair was chopped off. Edgard was there.
She's sitting up in bed, still parsing it out when Clarisse appears in the doorway. It's good to see her. Kind of? She doesn't look very happy to see Abby in return.
"Yeah. You okay?"
She's been staying with Ellie for the last few nights, which is fine, Abby no longer gives a shit about that, but it would have been nice to have her company after... everything. At least the dog has to stick with her (though he is currently out, and loose in the Gallows).
She's sitting up in bed, still parsing it out when Clarisse appears in the doorway. It's good to see her. Kind of? She doesn't look very happy to see Abby in return.
"Yeah. You okay?"
She's been staying with Ellie for the last few nights, which is fine, Abby no longer gives a shit about that, but it would have been nice to have her company after... everything. At least the dog has to stick with her (though he is currently out, and loose in the Gallows).
Edited 2023-05-26 06:15 (UTC)
[[Jogging! Hand up in a wave! Let's see you keep up with this cardio, Barrow.]]
Abby! Could you help me with something?
Abby! Could you help me with something?
[From about twenty feet away, Abby receives a call on her crystal:]
Don't listen to him, whatever he says he's lying.
[he'll never keep up with the cardio ok]
Don't listen to him, whatever he says he's lying.
[he'll never keep up with the cardio ok]
[probably at least a day after this:]
Don't... call me that. All right?
[He actually sounds kind of embarrassed, an unusual quality for his voice to have.]
Don't... call me that. All right?
[He actually sounds kind of embarrassed, an unusual quality for his voice to have.]
action; backdated to sometime relatively soon after the return from the temple of Dirthamen
wearyallalone
2023-07-04 11:12 pm (UTC)(link)
When they're not on a mission together, he and Abby probably cross paths most often at the training yard. Today, however, he's looking for with a bit more purpose than a friendly spar (and, ideally, with an eye to catching her somewhere relatively private). They need to talk, but it's going to be a potentially delicate conversation, and he'd rather do it right.
He looks serious, but then again, when does he not?
He looks serious, but then again, when does he not?
Yeah, there's nothing too weird about this: Vanya approaching from across the yard.
Abby's just finished a set of training exercises and her eyes brighten when she recognises him coming toward her. Vanya is better with a sword than she is and, most importantly, just as tall. He's good to work with. She greets him, "Hey. Got time for a couple rounds?"
She's all warmed up! Though he doesn't have his leathers on, or anything.
Abby's just finished a set of training exercises and her eyes brighten when she recognises him coming toward her. Vanya is better with a sword than she is and, most importantly, just as tall. He's good to work with. She greets him, "Hey. Got time for a couple rounds?"
She's all warmed up! Though he doesn't have his leathers on, or anything.
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