[The very last ferry back to the Gallows is always crowded for space. The one immediately before it however—]
You're familiar with the qunari Rifter, are you not? Loxley, I believe.
[It's just the two of them and the ferryman, rain pissing off the points of the woman's waxed cloak's hood. She is faintly green around the gills and pale everywhere else. The ferry plows down from the crest of one hacking harbor wave and into another, bouncing unpleasantly. She winces.]
Apologies. I find talking keeps the mind from the stomach.
[ Physically, Dick is here, jaw set grim against the wet and the cold and the harbor chop, bones stood out sharp beneath the backing of his gloves where he’s death gripped onto his bench. He’s in a hat under his hood, heavy with the rain.
Mentally -- he looks to her out of the middle distance as if he’s only just realized she’s there. Or that he is here, in the present, and available to be spoken to. Every ounce of sober concentration he can gather turns over into an effort to put a name to her face, or an intent behind the question. His struggle is real.
This is a man that does not like boats, or the cold, or the slam of the bottom of the boat at the butt of his spine at the end of every trough. ]
We’re from the same world, [ he answers, coherently, reasonably, helpfully, and after just a little bit too long of a delay. ]
Richard. [ He gives his name like an apology: the less dashing D&D. ]
[ Sea spray stings across Fitcher’s back; Richard flinches and digs in where he’s sat, uneasy energy coiled at his core. ]
Scouting. [ Matter-of-fact, in spite of his discomfort, or because of it. ] Loxley -- made a pass at diplomacy. [ For lack of a more diplomatic description of recent events. His pause is deeply unimpressed.
Funny, [her smile is almost crisp enough to be genuine, though it's hard to say for certain the jerk of the boat and the cut of the weather. Even the most sincere motions are bound to be stiffened in these conditions.] His other avenues of pursuit are those of most interest to me.
Would you say he is an honorable man? Within reason, I mean.
[ There’s a near gyroscopic focus to his study of her in light of this line of questioning; his bones rock with the pitch and roll of the boat, and the rain batters his hood, but his eyes stay steady on. ]
Within or without it.
[ He’s dead certain. Also, slower to answer than before. ]
[Does the fixture of his attention make what he has to say more or less palatable?]
Forgive the interrogation, Richard. I'm making inquiries on behalf of the girl I share a room with. Never ask a man directly about his temperament if you care for an honest assessment.
[ Relief and resignation constitute a complex mix of emotions to pass through the shadows of a snake man’s face. He takes in a long breath to sigh with -- interrogation excused. Hard to say if the prickle of irritation at his chops at the end of it is for himself or for Loxley.
Both.
The one thing he doesn’t seem is surprised. ]
He’s as chivalrous as he is handsome, [ he says. ] I’m sure his intentions are noble.
What a—[she twists away from some splash of spray, the motion punctuated by a short bark of surprise as the boat drops with a sudden jerk into a wave trough]—relief. The girl in question will be most reassured.
[And that, by all appearances, seems to satisfy Fitcher as well. It does not however resolve her need for conversation.]
[ Dick takes it with another flinch, less pronounced than the first. The hood of his brow is faintly miserable, in the rise before the next crest. There isn’t a thread left of him to keep dry.
Whose idea was it for him to go out in this weather, anyway? ]
Then you must come along to our games in the dining hall; we meet once weekly in the evening, barring any unforeseen tragedy. In which case we do our best to convene immediately.
—Tell me, would you say we're nearly to our destination. I'd prefer not to look myself.
[The hood of her cloak is very deep, and if she can avoid letting her attention stray to the swimming horizon line, all the better.]
I’ll make a point of it. [ He’d be lying in the moment, if not for a rogue streak of human loneliness or boredom or curiosity that will see him knuckling up to the table at the very next session.
A shiver rattles his breath. He stifles it before he turns to look over his shoulder, one hand unclawed from the bench to steady the bag at his side. ]
No. [ No, he would not say that they are nearly to their destination.
He looks back to Fitcher. Drumming up the energy he needs to find kindness anywhere in himself under these conditions is a process. It takes longer than it should, but he does get there. ]
Who was it you said that you’re sharing a room with?
A laundress. A young lady by the name of Pelt, [is her very prompt response; relief is not quite the sound, but certainly it is a motivating factor. Would that the ferryman would put his back into it.]
She's rather charmed by your friend, but prefers not to mislead him. Quite the honest little thing. [The occasional hint of suspiciously northern accents aside.] I trust Serah Loxley will be a good sport about it all.
Ah, yes. [ Ashey Pelt. Richard’s field of focus shifts back through Fitcher, rather than at her. He can see forever. ] He asked me to find out what kinds of flowers she likes.
[ And now he is here with a roommate of hers. What providence. ]
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.
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. ]
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. ]
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.
[ 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? ]
[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.]
[ 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. ]
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.]
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action;
Date: 2020-03-13 06:23 pm (UTC)You're familiar with the qunari Rifter, are you not? Loxley, I believe.
[It's just the two of them and the ferryman, rain pissing off the points of the woman's waxed cloak's hood. She is faintly green around the gills and pale everywhere else. The ferry plows down from the crest of one hacking harbor wave and into another, bouncing unpleasantly. She winces.]
Apologies. I find talking keeps the mind from the stomach.
no subject
Date: 2020-03-14 07:41 am (UTC)Mentally -- he looks to her out of the middle distance as if he’s only just realized she’s there. Or that he is here, in the present, and available to be spoken to. Every ounce of sober concentration he can gather turns over into an effort to put a name to her face, or an intent behind the question. His struggle is real.
This is a man that does not like boats, or the cold, or the slam of the bottom of the boat at the butt of his spine at the end of every trough. ]
We’re from the same world, [ he answers, coherently, reasonably, helpfully, and after just a little bit too long of a delay. ]
Richard. [ He gives his name like an apology: the less dashing D&D. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-03-14 08:09 am (UTC)[The slap of a wave cracking across the bow sends a spray of water over the gunwale, spitting hard at her back. She flinches. How charming.]
With the scouting division. Have you and your friend decided which of our benevolent overlords to shackle yourselves to yet?
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Date: 2020-03-14 07:04 pm (UTC)Scouting. [ Matter-of-fact, in spite of his discomfort, or because of it. ] Loxley -- made a pass at diplomacy. [ For lack of a more diplomatic description of recent events. His pause is deeply unimpressed.
He does not deny her use of the word ‘friend.’ ]
I expect him to pursue other avenues.
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Date: 2020-03-14 07:25 pm (UTC)Would you say he is an honorable man? Within reason, I mean.
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Date: 2020-03-14 07:38 pm (UTC)Within or without it.
[ He’s dead certain. Also, slower to answer than before. ]
Why do you ask? [ / What did he do? ]
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Date: 2020-03-14 07:51 pm (UTC)Forgive the interrogation, Richard. I'm making inquiries on behalf of the girl I share a room with. Never ask a man directly about his temperament if you care for an honest assessment.
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Date: 2020-03-14 08:14 pm (UTC)Both.
The one thing he doesn’t seem is surprised. ]
He’s as chivalrous as he is handsome, [ he says. ] I’m sure his intentions are noble.
no subject
Date: 2020-03-14 08:28 pm (UTC)[And that, by all appearances, seems to satisfy Fitcher as well. It does not however resolve her need for conversation.]
Do you play cards, serah?
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Date: 2020-03-14 08:48 pm (UTC)Whose idea was it for him to go out in this weather, anyway? ]
I can.
[ Not the same as ‘I do.’ ]
I haven’t had cause to study the local tradition.
no subject
Date: 2020-03-14 08:58 pm (UTC)—Tell me, would you say we're nearly to our destination. I'd prefer not to look myself.
[The hood of her cloak is very deep, and if she can avoid letting her attention stray to the swimming horizon line, all the better.]
no subject
Date: 2020-03-14 09:57 pm (UTC)A shiver rattles his breath. He stifles it before he turns to look over his shoulder, one hand unclawed from the bench to steady the bag at his side. ]
No. [ No, he would not say that they are nearly to their destination.
He looks back to Fitcher. Drumming up the energy he needs to find kindness anywhere in himself under these conditions is a process. It takes longer than it should, but he does get there. ]
Who was it you said that you’re sharing a room with?
no subject
Date: 2020-03-14 10:17 pm (UTC)She's rather charmed by your friend, but prefers not to mislead him. Quite the honest little thing. [The occasional hint of suspiciously northern accents aside.] I trust Serah Loxley will be a good sport about it all.
no subject
Date: 2020-03-14 10:39 pm (UTC)[ And now he is here with a roommate of hers. What providence. ]
What would she mislead him about?
no subject
Date: 2020-03-14 10:55 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2020-03-14 11:25 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2020-03-14 11:39 pm (UTC)[Matchmaking and discussing the weather. Maker, she has become quite the bore.]
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Date: 2020-03-15 12:44 am (UTC)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?
no subject
Date: 2020-03-15 03:51 pm (UTC)[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.
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 01:54 am (UTC)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?
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 02:02 am (UTC)—ly pale with seasickness.]
Adapting. To the place.
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Date: 2020-03-16 02:22 am (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 04:23 am (UTC)[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.
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 05:17 am (UTC)But the docks are finally within sight, black against all the grey and mottled with lamplight. ]
I’d be better off clerking.
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Date: 2020-03-16 05:35 am (UTC)[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.]
(no subject)
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