INBOX ;

[tadpoled]

“Ah, this is Tav. Kindly leave your message.”

voice ; text ; action;

Comments

action, an ambush;

[heirring]

[At some point during Tav's quarantine in the Gallows—that much resented period required of all newly arrived Rifters in which they are strictly confined to the fortress island—, a knock comes at this door.

The source of which turns out to be a primly dressed young woman, her blonde hair twisted up and pinned to her head, and a particularly predatory look to her. Her left arm is missing, the empty sleeve of her dress pinned neatly to the shoulder. At her heel is a small dog who must, under the faint reddish stain inherited by living among Kirkwall's dust, be white.

Should the door open, the little white dog promptly helps himself to sniffing at Tav's ankles. His mistress meanwhile launches into her assault:]

Hello, and welcome to Riftwatch. You're the new rifter, of course. I thought it best to introduce myself directly now that you've had some time to become acquainted with your new situation. My name is Madame de Foncé. I serve as the Mediation Officer here in addition to my ordinary work in the Research division.

Re: action, an ambush;

[tadpoled]

[To say that Tav is eager for any kind of company would be an understatement. He finshes re-braiding his hair behind his ear and bounds up to accept the knock. Puling the door open, he opens his mouth to greet his guest, but finds himself assailed by conversation. He listens, of course, but his eyebrows go sky-high. Research?]

Research on what? Me as a person? Or an elf, since that seems to be a matter of issue here. Or going out and doing research? I've a connection with plants, especially, being a druid.

[heirring]

[After a thorough huffing at Tav's ankles, the little white dog promptly helps himself to slipping past the man's heels so he may explore the contents of the room beyond the doorway. Evidently the room is more interesting to the little beast than the occupant.

For her part, Wysteria makes no effort to check the little dog's egress. Instead, swiftly corrective—]

No, no. I'm with Research Division. I'm not recruiting you, I'm merely explaining my place here. Although obviously I'm certain the Provost would be delighted to have your assistance. Or, come to think of it, the infirmary if you have some skill with plants. Doctor Strange is always after volunteers.

I'm only here as a matter of politeness. To introduce myself and to see that you are well settled. How are you finding the Gallows?

[She speaks at such a rapid clip, with hardly a breath taken to fund her monologuing. But here, she pauses and offers Tav a broad, expectant smile. It must be his turn to talk.]

[tadpoled]

[Color Tav continually confused, especially as she keeps speaking at such a clip. At long last, she ends on a note he can respond to and takes a deep breath, offering a smirk before forming his response,]

One, who is Doctor Strange?

Two, I’ve been in prisons enough times, this is a step up.

crystal.

[luaithre]

Serah Tav.

[ The voice on the other end of the crystal is very serious, affected by a Scottish Starkhaven cadence that may or may not translate well in Faerun. This message comes soon after another conversation, later in the day. ]

My name is Marcus Rowntree, and I act as Captain of the Watch here. I would like to speak with you before the day is out. It regards a request of yours.

crystal.

[tadpoled]

Well met, Sir Rowntree. Name the place and I will meet you there.

[Tav has his suspicions regarding the topic of the conversation, so he adds in,] If it would make you more comfortable, we can speak in the jail.

[luaithre]

[ There is no hesitation when he says, ]

My office will do fine.

[ So: he knows something of it, then. ]

The central tower, the last office on the western side. I'll leave the door open.

action

[tadpoled]

[Tav meant to answer the Captain, but every other reply Tav sends with the crystal seems to get lost in transit. The instructions are clear, however, and Tav makes his way to the Captain’s office. He tries to telegraph his arrival with loud footsteps and then a knock on the door. Tac stands just off center, hands in clear view, a necessary he learned from home in Baldur’s Gate to ease the nervous types. Maybe he doesn’t need to do this, but he’d rather err on the side of caution.]

Captain?

[He offers a small, friendly smile, breaking up the scars on his face.]

action.

[cozen]

[ Bastien is not so much of a fixture in the Gallows as he used to be or as many people still are. He travels frequently; he lives ashore, in Lowtown; and ninety percent of his friends here are Kirkwall locals who don't work for Riftwatch at all. But he does work here, when he's not working abroad. And when he works here it's still cheaper (see: free) to eat what Riftwatch provides than to go back ashore for meals.

So here he is, in the dining hall, putting a bowl of stew and a leather folio down on the table across from Tav before sitting down before them. He's neatly but not showily dressed, hair and mustache all in order, with merry dark eyes and a prominent dimple when he smiles. ]

Monsieur le nouveau, [ clearly enough some term of address or greeting from the tone, even if Tav hasn't spent his first weeks here learning Orlesian at rapid speed. ] Hello. I'm Bastien.

[ He extends an ink-stained hand across the table. ]

Re: action.

[tadpoled]

[Tav glances up from something he’s writing— in Faerun Elvish, just to be safe— to see someone moving through the dining hall to sit across from him. He folds up his work and tucks it away in his vest before nodding and offering a smile.]

Well met, I’m Tav. What might I help you with?

[cozen]

[ Bastien shrugs. ]

I like to meet people, [ in general, but especially new colleagues, ] so you are helping me with that as we speak.

[ His spoon goes into the stew, but he's taking his time eating any of it. First he's breaking chunks of potato and carrots into smaller pieces, then searching about for a piece of meat. ]

How are you finding the Gallows so far?

[tadpoled]

[Tav’s smile widens; he loves conversations like these.] You’ve come to the right place; I also enjoy meeting new people.

[He allows Bastien to dig in, comfortable with the relative silence. The question catches him off guard but Tav sees no harm in answering honestly.]

A welcome respite. I haven’t slept this well in a very long time.

in passing, at a meal

[extortionate]

"What's that say?"

Spoken through a mouthful of half-chewed bread. Lazar taps an eyebrow. Letters, obviously. Not any he knows.

perf!

[tadpoled]

“I’m sorry?” Tav replies, entirely unsure what’s been said to him as he chews on his stew, as well.

[extortionate]

He raises his voice, tries again.

(His mouth is not any clearer)

"Tattoo," Comes out something like tatghhu. "What's it say?"

[tadpoled]

If takes Tav a moment or two to comprehend the question, but he catches tatghhu and he raises his fingers to the ink on the side of his face. He has no memory if acquiring it, or even what language it may be in, but he’s lied about its origin before.

“The name of the elven god I serve,” Tav replies smoothly, “Corellon.”

action.

[cozen]

[ Once the demons have been dealt with and their victims confirmed not to have been murdered, valiantly rescued, and returned to the Gallows more or less intact—

after all of that and a decent's night sleep to shake off the stress of it, Bastien comes to Tav's door and raps on it. ]

You in there?

[ Seems likely. ]

[tadpoled]

[Tav is frankly exhausted from potentially ruining friendships with his own madness, being locked up and guarded at all times, and finally being allowed to heal those in danger. He doesn’t sleep well despite this exhaustion, so when a knock comes, it takes Tav a moment to process it’s Bastien.

Gods.

He’s not sure he’s ready to start apologizing when he’s so tired he might as well be drunk.

Regardless, he stands from his bunk and crosses the short distance to the door, leaning on it as he regards Bastien through the door.

He should at least try to apologize, now that he’s looking right at Bastien.]

I am, yes. How might I help today?

[cozen]

No, no, I don't need anything.

[ His arms are folded behind his back; when he unfolds them, they're holding twin stone pots, small enough to fit in his palms. One is home to a fern, and the other a cluster of mushrooms. ]

The merchant promised me these would grow well without a lot of light.

[ Every room in the Gallows has a window, but they're narrow and on the lower floors they spend most of the day shaded by the walls of the fortress.

He passes them through the—bars? the hole where trays of food can be passed back and forth? I am unclear on the exact situation with Tav's specific door, but one way or another Bastien manages to angle the plants and get them though to be within Tav's reach. ]

This one is named I'm Sorry, [ with a wiggle of the fern, then a wiggle of the mushrooms: ] and these are named I Was An Ass.

[tadpoled]

[Tav stares back, stunned for a moment as he accepts the two pots through the bars, well after the guards inspect the pots for anything dangerous.

Which is obviously stupid, but this is Tav’s life now since his episode.

He wants to chuckle at the names, but he needs to apologize as well for his frank madness. Setting the pots on his bunk, he returns to the door.]

Are you sure you don’t want I Was An Ass back? Because I was frankly out of my mind with being an ass when we should have been cooperating.

action; get in loser we’re going camping

[portalling]

Strange had promised Tav a break after the demonic infiltration, only for their little world to go promptly askew. The Gallows attacked, Kirkwall itself attacked, priorities slipped and slid and were continually rearranged.

But it had been a few weeks now, and the man carried a perpetual awareness of it like a pebble in his shoe. The more that the elf was pent-up and miserable, who was to say it wouldn’t increase the chances of an incident occurring, or Tav doing something supremely reckless?

So, Strange had finally taken the initiative to arrange an outing. Parts of the garden had been crushed during the tower collapse, and they should go foraging soon anyhow for more seeds and plants to transplant into all that broken soil, trying to catch up with the growing season. There had been some hemming and hawing about the Head Healer heading out with such a known liability, but he’d bristled with some professional affront; he had once been Sorcerer Supreme of an entire dimension, he was a powerful mage, he could certainly take care of himself, etc, etc.

Which is how they’re here today: tromping along in Planasene Forest. Late-spring early-summer means it’s quite nice, and for all that Stephen Strange has become a city boy, it’s not the worst thing ever. The clean air without the constant churned-up dirt and noise of reconstruction, away from the crowds of Kirkwall. Dressed for a hike, wearing a worn leather backpack with a bedroll and tent tied to it, carrying supplies enough for a day and night away, with the plan to camp out under the stars.

A little break, as it were.

“Did I ever mention I grew up on a farm?” Strange asks offhand, as they walk along under the trees. “I prefer cities, but the outdoors isn’t exactly unfamiliar to me either.”

sorry again for the delay. life is being life :(

[tadpoled]

Being out in the wilderness again is like breathing after near suffocation. Certainly, Tav doesn't skip with his arms raised, but the smile spread wide across his face is close enough. He takes deep breaths whenever he gets too far from Strange, absorbs all of the greenery, picking occasional plants here and there--what he recognizes from books-- and tucks them into a bag specifically for the greenhouse.

"A farm? Truly?" Tav stops just short of a particular mushroom-- it looks particularly like a Noblestalk. "I would never imagine."

As soon as he finishes talking, Tav digs into the earth and pulls up the mushroom to examine it. No, not the Noblestalk he thought it to be and replants it.

"I suppose I'm the opposite, I originally from the Baldur's Gate but I have few memories from what should be my home," Tav taps his chin as he looks around. "If you find a mushroom that looks like a blue blossom, please let me know."

same 😭

[portalling]

“Will do,” Strange says, pausing to catch his breath and standing behind the elf, watching as Tav investigates the patch of mushrooms and then sets it aside. The doctor’s been studying the local plants and herbs from textbooks, mostly to know enough to brew healing potions and to not accidentally poison a patient, but he still doesn’t have a green thumb for it; gets impatient with squinting at the striations of a mushroom or counting the number of fronds on a stalk. He’s not especially interested in how plants tick compared to how brains tick.

But this is why he brought Tav along.

He makes a thoughtful noise. “What drew you to the druidic arts and nature? Do you suspect it’s something you were skilled at beforehand, or might it have been something new that you just took a liking to?” He’d undergone his own transformation, turning over a new page going from surgeon to sorcerer; but at least that had been Strange’s choice, his decision, his own agency. He hadn’t been trying to fill an empty slate.

delivery.

[wildered]

Delivered to Tav’s pigeonhole on Satinalia is a small book on the flora of the Deep Roads. Mainly mushrooms, with an emphasis on which ones you can eat and which ones will make you think you’re a cat or, you know, kill you. The text has been annotated with notes and corrections in the margins, such as, “Dalrok says this one isn’t actually poisonous. Prank?” And the woodcut illustrations have been adjusted with more details inked in, or sometimes crossed out with a different illustration altogether crammed into empty space near them.

It’s an old book, small, meant for carrying around in the field, and showing signs of wear, tear, and minor water damage.

The accompanying note says, “For avoiding surprises. Happy Satinalia. - Siorus”

crystal

[tadpoled]

Thank you for the kind gift and the kinder words. I appreciate it.