Richard Dickerson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nonvenomous) wrote2034-10-19 09:51 am
nonvenomous) wrote2034-10-19 09:51 am
Inbox - Fade Rift
Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.
Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.
The Elven pantheon bears some superficial resemblance to our own. They are polytheistic, with named, apparently absent gods associated with different domains of worship.
“The Maker” has every indication of being a human invention marketed to strengthen their domination over every level of society here, and to excuse their subjugation of the other races. They label anything they don’t understand outside that narrow frame of reference a “demon.”
Frankly I think they should be ashamed of themselves.
“The Maker” has every indication of being a human invention marketed to strengthen their domination over every level of society here, and to excuse their subjugation of the other races. They label anything they don’t understand outside that narrow frame of reference a “demon.”
Frankly I think they should be ashamed of themselves.
[ That evokes a laugh -- not very mirthful, but, a laugh, low and quiet. ]
That's bound to be a popular opinion with someone. Whether it's anyone we can align ourselves with is yet to be seen.
Is your magic the same as it was back home?
That's bound to be a popular opinion with someone. Whether it's anyone we can align ourselves with is yet to be seen.
Is your magic the same as it was back home?
Yes and no.
There are -- differences. Limits.
[ Is this personal? This feels very personal, his answers hedged in on delays that read as distracted. ]
But I don’t think I’m alone.
There are -- differences. Limits.
[ Is this personal? This feels very personal, his answers hedged in on delays that read as distracted. ]
But I don’t think I’m alone.
Edited 2020-02-10 09:29 (UTC)
[ It is intended personal, judging from the slightly gentle tone Loxley lets enter his voice, but certainly not so much that he feels as though he shouldn't ask. ]
Hm, [ spake the idiot melee fighter, ] that's good.
[ Is it good? It sounds good. ]
I should've thought to inquire sooner, really, so I'm sorry for not doing so. [ A beat, and then he adds; ] Perhaps you just need to pray extra loudly, or something.
Hm, [ spake the idiot melee fighter, ] that's good.
[ Is it good? It sounds good. ]
I should've thought to inquire sooner, really, so I'm sorry for not doing so. [ A beat, and then he adds; ] Perhaps you just need to pray extra loudly, or something.
Edited (if only there was some other word for that word) 2020-02-10 09:31 (UTC)
[ Maybe the crystal network is down, maybe Richard is driving through a tunnel. ]
It's fine.
[ He says. Finally. ]
Thank you for asking. [ And also: ] I'll -- try shouting.
It's fine.
[ He says. Finally. ]
Thank you for asking. [ And also: ] I'll -- try shouting.
[ In very tidy, compact handwriting, and with impeccable spelling: ]
Hello Athessa,
Why would you want or need to know this?
It reads like stage one of an attempted poisoning.
- Ser Richard
Hello Athessa,
Why would you want or need to know this?
It reads like stage one of an attempted poisoning.
- Ser Richard
That’s fair. Since arriving here I have become very interested in wine.
It is.
This is a genuine answer, if it is necessary to specify.
This is a genuine answer, if it is necessary to specify.
I am more interested in the dark kind. Would it be very rude of me to ask how old you are?
[ In his quarters alone, scratching notes in his personal journal by candlelight, Richard says: "Wow." Fortunately these books don't seem to have speech recognition. ]
I see.
Is there a certain age elves have to reach on this plane before they're permitted to wear shoes?
I see.
Is there a certain age elves have to reach on this plane before they're permitted to wear shoes?
no. there are two kinds of elves here: Dalish and city elves. city elves wear shoes because they're being forced to act like humans while being treated like shit, and Dalish don't wear shoes because they live in the woods upholding elvish tradition and wanna be able to feel the ground beneath their feet.
Forgive me. Your humans are uniquely self-aggrandizing.
There are many races of elves where I’m from, but all of them wear shoes. It may be of some small comfort to you to know that they don’t suffer from any systematic oppression, and simply choose to do so because they value the protection from cold, parasites, thorns, snakes, hot coals, bird shit, etc.
There was one druid who didn't, now that I think of it. I'm not sure if it was because he wanted to be closer to nature or because he was a werewolf.
There are many races of elves where I’m from, but all of them wear shoes. It may be of some small comfort to you to know that they don’t suffer from any systematic oppression, and simply choose to do so because they value the protection from cold, parasites, thorns, snakes, hot coals, bird shit, etc.
There was one druid who didn't, now that I think of it. I'm not sure if it was because he wanted to be closer to nature or because he was a werewolf.
Yes. Loxley did a backflip onto his shoulders once. You should ask him about it some time.
[ Normally, Loxley makes a point of dining in public spaces; it's an easy medium in which to make some fast friends and find company, innately social, and certainly beats ferreting away supplies up winding stairs.
But there's a fucking plague or something, and even without a working knowledge of germ theory, the echoing sound of a hacking cough here and there makes for less than pleasurable ambiance. So Loxley swans into the room and he's holding a few rudimentary supplies for the evening, including bread and cured meat and a bottle he's had filled with ale.
These things are set down on a table with more force than strictly necessary. ]
But there's a fucking plague or something, and even without a working knowledge of germ theory, the echoing sound of a hacking cough here and there makes for less than pleasurable ambiance. So Loxley swans into the room and he's holding a few rudimentary supplies for the evening, including bread and cured meat and a bottle he's had filled with ale.
These things are set down on a table with more force than strictly necessary. ]
[ In this room there is a desk; seated at the desk is a blanket babushka. It’s upright at an odd, leaning angle, lax through the shoulders, with a pen or a quill or whatever people use in this universe bleeding ink out into an otherwise clean scrap of parchment.
The babushka jolts at the thud of Loxley’s supplies, the pen clatters from his fingers, Richard Dickerson’s mug craned bleary and wild-eyed into a look over his shoulder. ]
HHhfh, [ he breathes forcefully out through his teeth, exasperation quick to overtake fight or flight. Rather than chide, he looks to Loxley and his dinner, with a weary glance for the burned out stump of the candle on the desk. What year is it? ]
What's wrong?
The babushka jolts at the thud of Loxley’s supplies, the pen clatters from his fingers, Richard Dickerson’s mug craned bleary and wild-eyed into a look over his shoulder. ]
HHhfh, [ he breathes forcefully out through his teeth, exasperation quick to overtake fight or flight. Rather than chide, he looks to Loxley and his dinner, with a weary glance for the burned out stump of the candle on the desk. What year is it? ]
What's wrong?
Edited (when u rewrote the tag 5 times and its still awkward) 2020-02-16 07:52 (UTC)
Rutyer.
[ This room needs more light, so Loxley's next task is to collect up some candles and light them. There's a glance, though, for Richard and his whole situation -- missing the spilled ink, though -- and the way his jaw is wound taut relaxes a little. Mouth presses into a line. Sorry.
It's with altogether less force that he sets a candle or two on the table in their holders, firelight turning silver-grey more like the bronzey-gold his skin colour had in another world, but only where its light immediately touches. ]
This whole place is so fucked, [ is a laugh, but there is less of the slightly disbelieving, malicious joy that had come out of their last bitch fest, tone keyed down and his posture and gesture absent of ease.
Good thing he doesn't have a tail, anymore, as it'd be slashing about as if to release the tension. ]
[ This room needs more light, so Loxley's next task is to collect up some candles and light them. There's a glance, though, for Richard and his whole situation -- missing the spilled ink, though -- and the way his jaw is wound taut relaxes a little. Mouth presses into a line. Sorry.
It's with altogether less force that he sets a candle or two on the table in their holders, firelight turning silver-grey more like the bronzey-gold his skin colour had in another world, but only where its light immediately touches. ]
This whole place is so fucked, [ is a laugh, but there is less of the slightly disbelieving, malicious joy that had come out of their last bitch fest, tone keyed down and his posture and gesture absent of ease.
Good thing he doesn't have a tail, anymore, as it'd be slashing about as if to release the tension. ]
Edited 2020-02-16 08:07 (UTC)
[ Grogginess oozes in to fill the void left by adrenaline on its way out; Richard reaches up to drop the hood of his blanket down around his shoulders, and then to rub at his eyes. The added light doesn’t do him any favors. He is drawn and unhappy and still ¾ babushka, with minor shifts and tugs here and there to lend dignity to the drape of his blanket burrito. ]
Rutyer.
[ Wasn’t that already over with?
Dick turns back to the desk proper, folds the blotted paper over, and bookmarks it into his journal. The journal itself, he slots into a drawer. ]
Riftwatch or the entire world? [ he asks, as he slides the drawer shut. ] You’re probably right either way.
Rutyer.
[ Wasn’t that already over with?
Dick turns back to the desk proper, folds the blotted paper over, and bookmarks it into his journal. The journal itself, he slots into a drawer. ]
Riftwatch or the entire world? [ he asks, as he slides the drawer shut. ] You’re probably right either way.
Edited (who can do the most edits) 2020-02-16 08:45 (UTC)
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