Inbox - Fade Rift

[nonvenomous]

Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.

Comments

[unshut]

She would prefer he be clear on what kind of young lady she is. Which is to say, neither the marrying kind or the... [her pause is only half to do with the jerk of the boat, the way all the color (what little there is of it) drains from her face in reply] Well. As I said. She is very honest.

With respect for flowers, I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea. For now say wild daisies, as they would suit her hair and your friend would have to get fetch then himself. But if you would be so kind as to temper Serah Loxley's expectations, I might find out.

—You look almost as ill as I feel, by the way.

[nonvenomous]

Loxley is resilient. [ Daisies quested for in the wilds, got it. He makes a mental note, sky writing it out there somewhere in the haze where the sea meets the rain. ] And open-minded. [ Like, very. ]

You flatter me, [ he adds dryly on his own behalf, forced to zero back in on her from the cover of his own hood. ]

It’s been a long winter.

[unshut]

From warmer climes, I take it? If so, I am entirely sympathetic. Nothing like a winter in the south to make you grateful for an Antivan summer.

[Matchmaking and discussing the weather. Maker, she has become quite the bore.]

[nonvenomous]

Truth told I didn’t expect to still be here.

But yes. It was warmer. [ He is just drunk enough for it to be very apparent that some of his current state might be derived from how little he's enjoyed this (very light) dissection Loxley's honor, nevermind his swaying with the motion of the boat. The recovery of his focus correlates directly with how far they are from the subject. At this rate, he might not be finished drinking for the night. ]

What brought you to the watch?

book.

[nonvenomous]

A Grey Warden.

We should talk when I return.

book.

[charmoffensive]

[ Rings a vague bell. This place has too much lore. ]

Very well. Good luck on your adventuring.

book.

[nonvenomous]

Thank you.

[ He signs it, out of thoughtless habit, as if leaving a note -- Richard. ]

[unshut]

Fleeing occupied Orlais, I meant to join the Inquisition and went North instead of South. By the time I reached the Gallows, it had split away. [She doesn't shrug or tip her head (Maker, anything but that), but there is something in the line of her shoulders which suggests it all the same.] One clerking job is much the same as any other, and I'd rather sleep in a bed than in a tent up in the Frostbacks.

[In these circumstances, she is prone to bad habits: talking too much, turning a screw when she sees one.]

Have you or your friend had much trouble with it? Here. I imagine Kirkwall less than gracious to serah Loxley. Past problems with the qunari, you see.

[nonvenomous]

[ Richard listens, caught up enough on world events to follow cause and effect without any obvious muddling. His nodding interest is uncomplicated, stripped like a wire, and low effort enough to read cold in the driving rain. A little clinical.

Then they’re back to Loxley. He probes her face, suspicion creeping in tight at the corners of his eyes.

Is this a cougar thing? Is she on the hunt? Should he be concerned? ]

Trouble with what?

[unshut]

[Her expression is open

—ly pale with seasickness.]

Adapting. To the place.

[nonvenomous]

[ In that case, ]

No, [ is an easy answer, repeated with even greater certainty: ] no.

He’s always had horns. He’s used to being disrespected by humans.

[ Dick bundles deeper into his cloak. ]

I'm sure he feels right at home.

[unshut]

And yourself?

[is punctuated by a following slap of a wave and another hiss of spray; Fitcher recoils, one gloved hand clapping down in the boat's combing to steady herself off.]

Maker.

[nonvenomous]

[ Richard’s bench jumps beneath him, sending a ramrod shock up his spine to his shoulders. Fuck ‘Drakonis,’ and fuck this ferryman and especially fuck ”The Maker.”

But the docks are finally within sight, black against all the grey and mottled with lamplight. ]

I’d be better off clerking.

[unshut]

There's no end of paperwork for the division if you're fond of it, [she manages, forcing herself not to close her eyes. These things always go more poorly in the dark.] I for one would welcome the assistance; the last time I can recall being current with the filing was prior to Serah Dalat's departure.

[Her attention has fixed on the bilge cover between them, and only now does she realize she can see the water at the bottom of the boat sloshing back and forth under the soles of their shoes.]

Pardon me for a moment, Richard.

[She has business over the boat's side to attend to.]

[nonvenomous]

‘Fond’ is a strong word, [ for paperwork, ] but I wouldn’t mind an occasional retreat into monotony. [ The demons of this plane are a very physical people, and he left his crossbow in another dimension.

There Fitcher goes, while he’s still thinking about his crossbow.

After a moment, he leans to brace a hand at her shoulder, steadying with a supportive pat pat. The look on his face while he does it is inscrutably distant, but only the ferryman is there to see. And he’s busy. ]

book!

[sulahnan]

[ Handwriting much improved, if still a little slowly written. ]

Richard,

Was the wine to your liking? I also would like to know why it's only since arriving here that you've become interested in it, if it's also a thing where you come from.

- Athessa

book!

[nonvenomous]

Hello Athessa,

I see you’ve been working on your handwriting. I have enjoyed the wine, thank you.

I previously enjoyed an innate immunity to poison, which unfortunately included the alcohol in wine.

-Richard

[sulahnan]

Thank you for noticing! I have been taking lessons with Sers Julius and Marcus.

I'm glad you liked the wine, and that even though you are now no longer innately immune to poison, you can now get drunk if you want to.

Did your previous immunity also extend to smoking? If so, I have an idea for how you might experience such a thing.

[nonvenomous]

The method of exposure was irrelevant.

[ ‘If so, I have an idea for how you might experience such a thing.’ He reads over this line several times, and before he writes (much more slowly): ]

I’m not sure I follow.

[sulahnan]

It will be faster to explain in person, but the quick version is: you can smoke elfroot and it's fun.

[nonvenomous]

You have my curiosity.

Is this something you do often?

[sulahnan]

Probably too often, but so far it has not killed me so it's probably fine.

[nonvenomous]

Is it hallucinogenic?

[sulahnan]

It can be, depending. But it's also a healing herb.

[nonvenomous]

[ There's another delay while he flips through a journal previously provided to him by Sawbones, and takes his time reading through a dog-eared page. ]

Where should I meet you?