WHO: Two Geckos + an assortment of guest stars WHAT: Summary of content WHEN: Late Bloomingtide WHERE: The Gallows, misc. Kirkwall haunts. NOTES: Will update as needed.
Something to remember: last ferry at whatever the fuck o'clock.
Seth's counted up the circuits that boatman's been making, and it's imprecise, but better than nothing. Still makes him want to break something for want of a watch.
"Just killing time," Seth tells her, tipping the tankard in his hand back over his shoulder as he takes her in. Marks the bow. The cloak. Figures: local. "Not much happening on this rock after dock."
And there is, of course, the calculation Seth has been making frequently: who the fuck is going to stop him from getting on that boat?
But pushing the envelope just for the sake of it is a bonehead move. Seth comes to that conclusion time and again, despite the gnawing boredom that builds with every day sent rattling around the Gallows. (Nevermind worrying for Richie, how long he can hold out until his next meal.)
Ellie gives him a knowing nod, glancing from the ferry back up to the man perched on the stone steps above her like he wants to take off. She can feel the trapped-animal energy of him from here.
Ellie's carried that feeling into every single place FEDRA put her since her memories began, into Jackson as a far too self-reliant kid, into the cellar beneath a bar where she had nothing but a hospital gown and a stolen dart from the game board upstairs.
She understands it, though that sort of thing doesn't always tip good when gravity pulls them down.
"Ellie," she says back, without the smartass comments she could make about him not offering his name first. God, she misses Lance. He'd know what to do for the new people who fall through the Rifts. She always feels worse than useless, but he'd say that the fact that she feels that she had to do anything at all is more than most people.
She trudges her way up, stops just across the landing from him and leans against the handrail, giving him the up and down. Nothing sexual about it, though he's a good looking guy, if she's going by aesthetics.
"Scouting," she adds, and holds up her left hand. The fingerless gloves do a good job of covering the anchor shard, so she tugs back the edge, giving him that flash of green.
It's scrutiny repaid in kind. Seth sizes her up, doesn't bother hiding it just like he doesn't hide the examination of her hand, since she's offering.
Nevermind when he arrived, how long has she been here? What's the run time on looking like a Lord of the Rings character, milling around like this is business as usual? But he already got an answer for free, and word probably travels fast in a place like this, so—
"A week, give or take a day," he tells her, tankard shifting hands so he can turn one palm up, mirror her tell. Green shit, gouged in a big slash from the center down to the heel of his palm. "They didn't do a great job of selling the place to us on the way in, and two weeks cooling my heels didn't improve the outlook."
Seth doesn't do well in confinement. Maybe this isn't that, technically, but it feels close.
Like seeing like, even if she has no idea what he comes from, or what he can do. She can spot trapped and angry. She nods at his anchor, drops down to sit at the top of the stairs, one leg pulled up -- still about two people's space between them, well out of range.
He doesn't dismiss her based on her looks, and that's both a point in his favor and a mark of someone having been through some shit.
She muffles a yawn, nods an answer to his question.
"A couple weeks, yeah. They've had fucking- reincarnations of destroyers of worlds come in through the Rifts before. Can't blame them for being careful about letting that shit loose."
Ellie shrugs slightly.
"He didn't turn out to be the worst guy. He's got a few pets now." A beat, as she rocks her head from side to side, because that's her fucking "normal" now.
She pauses, maybe for too long, looking out at the water.
Uninvited company, but hey, how much can Seth really complain about it?
He and Richie both knew there were limits on what they could find out on their own. At some point, they'd have to start asking questions, having conversations. So if Ellie's volunteering, who is Seth to turn down the opportunity?
"You stow away on that barge, or snorkle your way over?" He asks, balancing the tankard on one knee. "Between you and me, it doesn't seem like the security here is all that focused."
As in, if he left, who would notice?
Delicately side-stepping the entirety of reincarnation, destroyer of worlds namedrop. Seth's just shucked off one of those. He doesn't need to tangle with another any time soon.
"Stowaway," she says with a shrug, which is more impressive than it might seem at first. It's a ferry, not a ship, and the places to hide are rather limited.
"And yeah- they officially put the quarantine in place 'cause somebody came in sick, once. I don't know all the details, but given that you guys are allowed to talk to us, and we're allow to go out, my guess is that they care a lot more about making sure they can trace problems than anything."
She pauses.
"It wouldn't surprise me if Yseult knew." At the time she thought she'd gotten away with it, but now she's not so sure. "Scoutmaster."
Ellie purses her lips in thought. "I've been places where quarantine meant a bunker underground, and not being allowed to carry weapons."
She snuck out of that one too, but she vastly prefers this.
Scoutmaster Yseult. A name to file away for further inspection. Someone to watch out for, probably. Richie's dinner plans are going to require finesse.
"Doomsday prep bullshit?" he prompts, though the weapons rule doesn't quite fit. What's a prepper without an ammo stockpile?
Something to chew on while Seth considers what she's imparting about quarantine. What it says about tracing problems. That's not a great sign either, considering the Geckos track record of creating problems.
"Can you prep when it's already happened?" she asks, realizing as it comes out of her mouth that it's not very funny. She shrugs one shoulder, looks out at the water.
"How much longer do you have, before you're cleared to go?"
No, it's not very funny. Even if she says it a little like a joke. Seth recognizes something in it. The way he'd talk around culebra. Jokes with a sharp bite.
So he opts for the latter, for a moment.
"A week, give or take."
Seth delivers this estimate with a deep, weighted sense of resentment.
"Then it's all about figuring out what the fuck is waiting for us out there. Besides a whole war."
Ellie doesn't fight the edge of smile. It's knowing rather than actual humor. This situation sucks, and it's nice, sometimes, to fully acknowledge it. Even if it's marginally better than what she came from, it's still allowed to suck.
It ebbs away, leaving something more thoughtful as she looks out onto the water.
One might assume through gainful employment. Seth has no reason to directly contradict this assumption.
"I know there's a stipend, but there's no way it's enough walking around money. We'll need to start thinking about getting a little extra scratch together."
We.
We meaning his ungrateful brother, who is likely off getting too comfortable with this place already.
Ellie frowns like she doesn't understand what money is; and given that it very much hasn't been a thing-
"Couldn't help you there," she says honestly, leaning back on both hands, but then actually gives it some thought.
"I'm not from a place where money's a thing." Having a roof over her head, enough to eat and a knife in her hand is better than she'd done for a good portion of life.
"But I know enough to know that either that means illegal shit, or a sponsor."
There are no honest ways to make more than just a living around here. You either come from money or you don't.
Dry as bone, letting sarcasm do the work of creating plausible deniability. What a novelty, living in a place that hadn't already clocked Seth Gecko as a career criminal.
"What's that mean, money's not a thing?"
Because she's not a local, where money was very much a thing.
Ellie snorts under her breath, but doesn't deign to take it further. She's not going to grill him, and she knows better than to ask about illegal dealings. Better to actually know nothing. He won't be the first or the last of Riftwatch to be a step sideways from the law.
Pursing her lips at the question, Ellie frowns, thinking on how to explain without throwing the conversation into the ocean of shit that was her world.
"Post-apocalyptic," she says, wrinkling her nose, trying to make it sound casual. "We barter. Supplies, goods, services. It works best when people are interested in being fair."
Post-apocalyptic would have gotten a bigger reaction years ago, before the Twister, the labyrinth, culebra bullshit. Apocalypse? Isn't that just what Amaru was angling for?
He can tell the flavor is different, but the outcome, probably the same.
"Anyone around here taking that currency, or is it coin only?"
Probably a safe assumption that no one took credit cards. Not that Seth had ever had a card that was actually his own, but that's so far from being relevant to the present moment that it doesn't bear mention.
However—
"Anyone give you a crash course on currency?"
Or did she get the hang of it on her own, after getting dropped here?
"Most above-board stuff is coin. The lower you get on the food chain, the more it's barter and favors. It's not all dishonest. There's plenty of people who will get you something decent to eat if you help unload a wagon or something. And if they know your face, sometimes they'll give you something more later. Be willing to point you in the right direction."
Never underestimate goodwill with people who have little else, Ellie's learned.
"When I started drawing my pay from Riftwatch, I just asked and they explained the basics. How many copper to a silver and stuff like that."
She gives a shrug.
"I'm sure you know this, but before you buy anything, watch other people buy from the same place. You'll see pretty quick who's getting ripped off, and what a fair price is. And no matter what, keep your anchor shard covered. If people think you're a Rifter they'll charge you out the ass. And you can haggle, but don't push your luck in Kirkwall. If you piss someone off here they mean it. If you go to like, Rialto, they'll talk shit about your mom and it's just part of making a deal."
Some of this, Seth knows. It comes with the territory, knowing how to read people and use those observations to his advantage.
And this kid is how old?
But it's a kindness. There's no angle in dismissing it. Yes, Seth recognizes the importance of goodwill. And they are alone here, without a real understanding of the people around them. So Seth files away the names (Kirkwall, Rialto) and tips his cup to her.
"What's the problem with the shard?"
The more pressing issue than being ripped off. He can fix that. He can't get the shard out.
Ellie gives him the slight nod back, the one that says she's been there, and recently, and doesn't see the goddamn point of holding back something like this. Sometimes, it comes back to her. That goodwill. And if it doesn't, then maybe it'll go some other direction.
She can live with that.
Ellie considers her own shard, turning her hand upward, but doesn't uncover it. She folds her fingers (the maimed ones) over it, pulls a face.
"Just your standard bigot shit. It's different, so it's bad." She adopts a low, whiny, defensive voice for this- likely an imitation of someone specific. But she relents quickly, shrugging one shoulder.
"It's magic. It's the Fade. People here don't trust magic or mages. Guess it wasn't all that long ago that a terrorist mage bombed the absolute shit out of their Chantry here in Kirkwall. Like- a temple. But that was just the cherry on top of the bullshit sandwich."
"I know good mages and I know asshole mages. The problem is that when the asshole can level a city, people get nervous. And if mages ever lose control they can get possessed by demons. And, well-"
Ellie gestures to the anchor, spreading her fingers in a magician reveal.
"The anchors look an awful lot like a rift, and that's where the demons come from."
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no subject
Seth's counted up the circuits that boatman's been making, and it's imprecise, but better than nothing. Still makes him want to break something for want of a watch.
"Just killing time," Seth tells her, tipping the tankard in his hand back over his shoulder as he takes her in. Marks the bow. The cloak. Figures: local. "Not much happening on this rock after dock."
And there is, of course, the calculation Seth has been making frequently: who the fuck is going to stop him from getting on that boat?
But pushing the envelope just for the sake of it is a bonehead move. Seth comes to that conclusion time and again, despite the gnawing boredom that builds with every day sent rattling around the Gallows. (Nevermind worrying for Richie, how long he can hold out until his next meal.)
"Got a name?"
no subject
Ellie's carried that feeling into every single place FEDRA put her since her memories began, into Jackson as a far too self-reliant kid, into the cellar beneath a bar where she had nothing but a hospital gown and a stolen dart from the game board upstairs.
She understands it, though that sort of thing doesn't always tip good when gravity pulls them down.
"Ellie," she says back, without the smartass comments she could make about him not offering his name first. God, she misses Lance. He'd know what to do for the new people who fall through the Rifts. She always feels worse than useless, but he'd say that the fact that she feels that she had to do anything at all is more than most people.
She trudges her way up, stops just across the landing from him and leans against the handrail, giving him the up and down. Nothing sexual about it, though he's a good looking guy, if she's going by aesthetics.
"Scouting," she adds, and holds up her left hand. The fingerless gloves do a good job of covering the anchor shard, so she tugs back the edge, giving him that flash of green.
"When'd you drop through?"
no subject
Nevermind when he arrived, how long has she been here? What's the run time on looking like a Lord of the Rings character, milling around like this is business as usual? But he already got an answer for free, and word probably travels fast in a place like this, so—
"A week, give or take a day," he tells her, tankard shifting hands so he can turn one palm up, mirror her tell. Green shit, gouged in a big slash from the center down to the heel of his palm. "They didn't do a great job of selling the place to us on the way in, and two weeks cooling my heels didn't improve the outlook."
Seth doesn't do well in confinement. Maybe this isn't that, technically, but it feels close.
"They do the same for you?"
no subject
He doesn't dismiss her based on her looks, and that's both a point in his favor and a mark of someone having been through some shit.
She muffles a yawn, nods an answer to his question.
"A couple weeks, yeah. They've had fucking- reincarnations of destroyers of worlds come in through the Rifts before. Can't blame them for being careful about letting that shit loose."
Ellie shrugs slightly.
"He didn't turn out to be the worst guy. He's got a few pets now." A beat, as she rocks her head from side to side, because that's her fucking "normal" now.
She pauses, maybe for too long, looking out at the water.
"I snuck out," she confesses. "A couple times."
no subject
He and Richie both knew there were limits on what they could find out on their own. At some point, they'd have to start asking questions, having conversations. So if Ellie's volunteering, who is Seth to turn down the opportunity?
"You stow away on that barge, or snorkle your way over?" He asks, balancing the tankard on one knee. "Between you and me, it doesn't seem like the security here is all that focused."
As in, if he left, who would notice?
Delicately side-stepping the entirety of reincarnation, destroyer of worlds namedrop. Seth's just shucked off one of those. He doesn't need to tangle with another any time soon.
no subject
"And yeah- they officially put the quarantine in place 'cause somebody came in sick, once. I don't know all the details, but given that you guys are allowed to talk to us, and we're allow to go out, my guess is that they care a lot more about making sure they can trace problems than anything."
She pauses.
"It wouldn't surprise me if Yseult knew." At the time she thought she'd gotten away with it, but now she's not so sure. "Scoutmaster."
Ellie purses her lips in thought. "I've been places where quarantine meant a bunker underground, and not being allowed to carry weapons."
She snuck out of that one too, but she vastly prefers this.
no subject
"Doomsday prep bullshit?" he prompts, though the weapons rule doesn't quite fit. What's a prepper without an ammo stockpile?
Something to chew on while Seth considers what she's imparting about quarantine. What it says about tracing problems. That's not a great sign either, considering the Geckos track record of creating problems.
no subject
"How much longer do you have, before you're cleared to go?"
no subject
So he opts for the latter, for a moment.
"A week, give or take."
Seth delivers this estimate with a deep, weighted sense of resentment.
"Then it's all about figuring out what the fuck is waiting for us out there. Besides a whole war."
Which Seth also does not sound thrilled about.
no subject
It ebbs away, leaving something more thoughtful as she looks out onto the water.
"Depends on what you're looking for."
no subject
"Profits."
One might assume through gainful employment. Seth has no reason to directly contradict this assumption.
"I know there's a stipend, but there's no way it's enough walking around money. We'll need to start thinking about getting a little extra scratch together."
We.
We meaning his ungrateful brother, who is likely off getting too comfortable with this place already.
no subject
"Couldn't help you there," she says honestly, leaning back on both hands, but then actually gives it some thought.
"I'm not from a place where money's a thing." Having a roof over her head, enough to eat and a knife in her hand is better than she'd done for a good portion of life.
"But I know enough to know that either that means illegal shit, or a sponsor."
There are no honest ways to make more than just a living around here. You either come from money or you don't.
no subject
Dry as bone, letting sarcasm do the work of creating plausible deniability. What a novelty, living in a place that hadn't already clocked Seth Gecko as a career criminal.
"What's that mean, money's not a thing?"
Because she's not a local, where money was very much a thing.
no subject
Pursing her lips at the question, Ellie frowns, thinking on how to explain without throwing the conversation into the ocean of shit that was her world.
"Post-apocalyptic," she says, wrinkling her nose, trying to make it sound casual. "We barter. Supplies, goods, services. It works best when people are interested in being fair."
She leaves unsaid what happens when they're not.
no subject
Post-apocalyptic would have gotten a bigger reaction years ago, before the Twister, the labyrinth, culebra bullshit. Apocalypse? Isn't that just what Amaru was angling for?
He can tell the flavor is different, but the outcome, probably the same.
"Anyone around here taking that currency, or is it coin only?"
Probably a safe assumption that no one took credit cards. Not that Seth had ever had a card that was actually his own, but that's so far from being relevant to the present moment that it doesn't bear mention.
However—
"Anyone give you a crash course on currency?"
Or did she get the hang of it on her own, after getting dropped here?
no subject
Never underestimate goodwill with people who have little else, Ellie's learned.
"When I started drawing my pay from Riftwatch, I just asked and they explained the basics. How many copper to a silver and stuff like that."
She gives a shrug.
"I'm sure you know this, but before you buy anything, watch other people buy from the same place. You'll see pretty quick who's getting ripped off, and what a fair price is. And no matter what, keep your anchor shard covered. If people think you're a Rifter they'll charge you out the ass. And you can haggle, but don't push your luck in Kirkwall. If you piss someone off here they mean it. If you go to like, Rialto, they'll talk shit about your mom and it's just part of making a deal."
no subject
And this kid is how old?
But it's a kindness. There's no angle in dismissing it. Yes, Seth recognizes the importance of goodwill. And they are alone here, without a real understanding of the people around them. So Seth files away the names (Kirkwall, Rialto) and tips his cup to her.
"What's the problem with the shard?"
The more pressing issue than being ripped off. He can fix that. He can't get the shard out.
no subject
She can live with that.
Ellie considers her own shard, turning her hand upward, but doesn't uncover it. She folds her fingers (the maimed ones) over it, pulls a face.
"Just your standard bigot shit. It's different, so it's bad." She adopts a low, whiny, defensive voice for this- likely an imitation of someone specific. But she relents quickly, shrugging one shoulder.
"It's magic. It's the Fade. People here don't trust magic or mages. Guess it wasn't all that long ago that a terrorist mage bombed the absolute shit out of their Chantry here in Kirkwall. Like- a temple. But that was just the cherry on top of the bullshit sandwich."
"I know good mages and I know asshole mages. The problem is that when the asshole can level a city, people get nervous. And if mages ever lose control they can get possessed by demons. And, well-"
Ellie gestures to the anchor, spreading her fingers in a magician reveal.
"The anchors look an awful lot like a rift, and that's where the demons come from."