o1 ♚ especially coffee

[slaveking]

FORM: Sending crystal
SENDER: Marcel Gerard
RECIPIENT: Public; any and all interested
WHAT: A Rifter would like to futilely inquire as to the incomprehensible physics of Rifting and seek actually unavailable instruction w.r.t. how to get the Hell back home, please and thanks.
WHEN: Timing (backdated, covering a span, etc.)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Maybe P3-13 for language? If somebody gets emotional!

Good morning, Thedas.

[By now, the name of the world sounds comfortable enough in his mouth, but his accent is likely remains somewhat Other, cutting the consonants of his deep voice.] My name is Marcel Gerard. In the world I come from, magic is a secret pretty well-hidden from humans, and the full strength of abominations waits every month on the full moon. [Sorry, werewolves. Somebody hates you.] We also have horseless carriages, ballet, instant coffee, and the Internet. The world is called New Orleans. If you know what any of that means, we should talk.

And if you don't, you might be just the person to help me get home. You got thoughts on how to prolapse a Rift? I want to hear 'em. Talk to me.

Comments

[rathercommon]

[ A dissatisfied grunt. ]

Well, it's not going to be my people. There was a time when we were the greatest empire in Thedas, but that is very much no more.

[slaveking]

Huh. Not sure.

I should ask about that. Hey. [A shift in his tone. A shift of topic.] If I was gonna start setting up a time and place for Rifters to meet, you think you'd show? Trade information, shit like that. About gunpowder, for instance.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Hell yeah! I don't even know how many of us there are around here, and even if we're all from weird places or weird times or both, we're all kinda dumped here with no god damn say-so or idea what's going on. It'd be nice. Get everyone's shit in order.

[slaveking]

Yeah?

You don't think you all would rule again, if the rest of us were out of the picture? [It's a story plenty of the peoples back in his home like to tell themselves. If it weren't for witches. If it weren't for Mikaelsons. The list goes on.]

[slaveking]

Excellent. Excellent. [Marcel sounds satisfied instead of hopeful, a symptom of his ego.] I'm looking into it bright and early tomorrow. Seems like we have a few, anyhow.

[motherfucking_ghost]

I'll be sure to set my alarm clock. [Oh so much sarcasm you can feel it.] Do people have like...those time dial...pedestal things or do they just say 'hey when the sun's about over here but it's okay if you're late by a few degrees'?

[rathercommon]

[ A quiet scoff. ]

Definitely not. Not unless we actually decide to change. Of course, unless we decide to change, we'll all die, and that hasn't really been an impetus yet.

[slaveking]

I'd guess it was a sun dial or something like that, yeah, [Marcel says.] Mostly people seem to go by sunrise and sunset. Guess that's gonna be something I figure out in time for the get-together too. [There's an undercurrent of laughter in his voice, but with an exasperated tinge that seconds Church's.]

[slaveking]

[Marcel senses something he is sure to wonder about in days to come.]

Sounds like a longer story. I'd like to hear it some time.

[rathercommon]

Sure. If you're interested in hearing about it, I'll certainly tell it.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Either way, I'm looking forward to it. I'm just starting to get annoyed with people assuming I understand the politics of literally anything around here until I say I fell face-first out of a hole in the sky.

[slaveking]

Where are you at, on your downtime? The Tavern?

[Does seem to be the default.]

[slaveking]

Funny, right? [Marcel sounds wry too.] Back home, we had plenty of Americans who don't know Britain has a Prime Minister. I'll let you know when it happens.

Hey. How are you for work?

[rathercommon]

Quite the opposite. That's where I am when I'm working. I spend most of my downtime amongst the books.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Uhhh, well, I mean, aside from occasionally lending a hand to fix broken shit up when someone needs muscle or something, work isn't exactly something I'm actively doing. [It's also something he's not necessarily actively pursuing.] I'm not exactly part of the Inquisition. Just...an unfortunate interloper.

[slaveking]

That's something like irony, right there.

Where do they keep the books?

[rathercommon]

In the keep. There's a basement room I rather like. It stays quiet.

[slaveking]

May I visit with you between books? I'm curious about getting some work at the tavern as well as your people.

[rathercommon]

I wouldn't toss you out if you stopped by, no.

[slaveking]

If you're mucking out stalls or something, there's no shame in that, [Marcel says, amused.] It's honest work.

Seen battle yet?

[motherfucking_ghost]

I've seen battle back home. Aaaand when I got dumped in a fucking swamp full of zombies and monsters, some mages were blasting them away, so I've seen that.

I'm thinking I'm gonna learn how to work a crossbow, though. Someone suggested that since it's the only thing around here that's got a trigger.

[slaveking]

All right. See you there, madame dwarf.

[slaveking]

Now that's some adaptive thinking right there. Good call.

Crossbows were never my thing, but you need some company during target practice, I got some shit to practice of my own.

[A beat.]

That's not license to shoot my ass.

[glandival]

That's very lucky.

[ A slightly skeptical tone shadows the more appropriate one of sincerity. ]

I was not born a slave -- just an elf. Elves don't get nice things, most of the time.

[slaveking]

[He also looks young. His story won't be much enhanced when they meet.]

I take it this land has yet to see the end of that. Is there anywhere elves are free of that all?