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[brennvin]

crystals · correspondence · private scenes

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[undergrunn]

( She exhales a quiet, amused huff of laughter. It’s strange how even little overlaps in language are so comforting. )

I’m doing better than you, it sounds like. Do you need rescuing?

( Friendly teasing is better than looping to get actual reason for getting in touch. She’ll gladly delay that. )

[brennvin]

I think I’m alright for now— Barrow’s cats are everywhere on this floor, I love them but I’m starting to understand why Lazar gets so annoyed— anyway. If they start running off with all my belongings, I will give you a holler.

What’s up?

[undergrunn]

Is there… this isn’t what I was getting in touch about, but are there any stories about a creature called “Pocketcat,” that you know of?

( stalling, but in a fun (???) way. )

[brennvin]

( Good thing Astrid is distractible and easily steered, )

Pocketcat? ( Lommekatt, she thinks, but the combination of syllables don’t mean anything to her. ) Hmm. No. I just picture, like, a very cute kitten sitting in your chest pocket. Is it something like that?

[undergrunn]

If only. Kitten cuddles sound adorable.

Pocketcat, he’s… in the stories he’s the sort of thing mothers use to make their kids behave. “Mind your manners, or the Pocketcat will get you.” Stealing children, that sort of thing. I stopped believing as I grew up, but he was in the city I was in before coming here.

( Her tone has become a little weighted, before she catches herself. ) I mean, someone claiming to be him, anyway. They had the purple coat and everything.

[brennvin]

( Musing: ) We have some of those too. Scaring kids like, be nice around Feastday or you don’t get any presents and you’ll get thrown in a bag.

Your bogeyman was real?

[undergrunn]

Yeah. He was a trader in Prehevil. I mean, we didn’t trade with him, obviously. He wasn’t asking for kids, but— yeah.

There were…

( Abella isn’t sure how to talk around this. )

A lot of things I didn’t believe in were real. Now I’m not there I’m honestly starting to suspect I just hit my head really hard.

( An attempt to laugh it off that isn’t terribly convincing. She’s sweet, but a bad liar. )

[brennvin]

( They have that in common. And as Astrid listens to this, to Abella trying to delicately tiptoe around the topic, she thinks back and realises she doesn’t know all that much about what Abella came from. They’d talked about Oldegård, about home, about the nicer kinder memories the rifter carried with her, but… )

What sorts of things?

I don’t remember you mentioning much about what your world was like— I mean, some details, but not like, ‘childhood stories come to life’.

[undergrunn]

( Abella is quiet for long moments. There’s the quiet sound of something like paper, Abella opening up a packet of cigarettes. It drags out with the box hitting the ground, and she swears softly. )

Where I was before I came here isn’t a reflection of what my world is like. Or— was like? I mean, Pocketcat wanted to trade in heads, that’s not something that happens.

[brennvin]

Heads??

[undergrunn]

( Abella opens her mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. She chokes out something that doesn’t manage to be a word, and the connection cuts.


She swears as she drops the crystal and fumbles with her cigarettes, but she can’t get a flame to catch to make the fucking thing light. )

action.

[brennvin]

Astrid waits a little while to hear if the other woman comes back; after all, Astrid herself has experienced dropping the crystal. But the more that time goes on and there’s no answer, she makes a decision.

She scoops up the offending cat from earlier (it gives an affronted squawk of a meow), shoves her crystal into her pocket, and then goes sauntering downstairs.

After a few months living in a tent outside, the cramped environment of the over-stuffed Gallows feels so very different anew; she misses the open sky and fresh air, but having so many people around her again is a comfort. Abella-and-Teren’s room isn’t far away, so she shows up only a couple minutes later, rapping her knuckles on the door and waiting with a warm purring bundle of fur in her arms.

Emotional support cat. Abella had sounded like she might need one.

[undergrunn]

( Abella makes herself stand and open the door. Her skin has taken on an unhealthy pallor, and she’s holding the unlit cigarette between two knuckles. She looks a little like she was just dunked in icy water, save for being totally dry.

Even so, she brightens at the sight of the cat. )

Hi, little menace. I bet you don’t say freaky things out of the blue to people you’ve just met, huh?

( Ha ha ha help )

[brennvin]

Hey, some of the other rifters are a lot worse. Have you even heard the Head Healer sometimes?

( Her eyes flicker down to the unlit cigarette — feels that itch in the back of her throat for a smoke, maybe she should’ve brought along some elfroot to calm down the other woman, too — but then she readjusts her grip on the little menace in her arms. )

You gonna invite me in? You can rescue me from this cat like you promised.

[undergrunn]

( Rocking back on her feet drifts into a swaying step back - forced lackadaisical, no drink involved. Like she can make herself feel better by putting on an act of being at ease, even when she’s in a state.

It’s an unspoken invitation, but why risk leaving Astrid in the lurch? )

Come on in. Would you like a drink?

( As for the Head Healer, ) I haven’t had the pleasure. I hope he’s not trading in body parts, I make enough excuses to avoid going to the check-ups as is.

( The joke was maybe more that she was up to, right now, and she looks away from Astrid as she says it, trying to get her hands on some liquor. )

[brennvin]

( Astrid waltzes in with a ) Yes please,

( because her next batch of homemade liquor is still steeping down at the makeshift tavern and it’ll be a while before it’s ready for human consumption, so she’ll take whatever she can get. And she just goes ahead and settles down on the other woman’s bed, whereupon the cat instantly squirms out of her arms and leaps onto Abella’s pillow instead, where it sits and starts grooming itself. Both of them making themselves at home. )

You’re not allergic or anything, are you?

[undergrunn]

No. I’m fit as a fiddle.

( A good thing, normally, even with the strange link between her appreciated her good health and feeling uneasy with how incredibly unfeminine she feels.

Cigarette set down, she grabs two wooden cups, and a brown bottle of something that smells a bit like an apple smacking you in the face with a brick, if the brick were also made of apples. It’s potent and sweet, rather than good, and she smiles apologetically as she holds a cup out to Astrid. )

Sorry. Daan would be able to make a mean cocktail with this, at least.

[brennvin]

( Astrid sniffs the cup, and her nose wrinkles but she also can’t help but grin at that eye-watering astringent strength of it. )

I’m gonna make you try my akvavit. I’ve got some steepin’ down at the tavern, it’s just got maybe a week left. I forced some people to be taste-testers for the herb mixture earlier, so you’d get to be experiment number two.

( Then she goes ahead and takes a swig; maybe a little too much, unwisely, so her face crumples into that potent blow and she wipes off her mouth with the back of her hand. And it’s thanks to her strong stomach, her preference for liquor that can punch you in the face, the Avvars’ tendency to drink so many people under the table, but: )

What are you talking about, this is great.

[undergrunn]

( Her smile is small and wry a”her sets her cup down, focusing on the eye-watering taste to ground herself. It’s a mixed success. Keeping a little bit of distance, she doesn’t join Astrid and the pillow bandit on her bed, instead claiming a wooden chair, straddling it with the back facing the bed. )

Nothing on my grandpa’s schnapps.

( That was something.

Abella realises she has no idea what to say, how to sweep this under the rug. She sighs. )

Can we pretend I never told you about Pocketcat?

[brennvin]

No.

( If Astrid were more tactful, or more conflict-averse, she might have seized on that offer and allowed Abella to shove it all back in a box and slam that lid shut and lock it. But. )

I mean, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. If you’re not comfortable, like. But I can’t pretend I never heard about a big talking cat in purple who trades in body parts. Are you okay?

[undergrunn]

( She isn’t sure she’s got it in her to clarify about Pocketcat. Or, rather, all impulse about it disappears with the question.

Are you okay?

Despite herself, Abella feels her expression twist, looking away from Astrid as if that’ll make the grief less obvious. )

No.

( Her voice betrays her as much as her face, but the reality she hasn’t shared since she got here tumbles out regardless. )

They’re all trapped there. It’s not fair that I get to be here and they’re all being hunted down by monsters, and Levi and Marina are just kids.

( Abella knows she’s said too much. If there’s a fault in a dam, it’s inevitable that it’ll fail. )

[brennvin]

( Others are perhaps more accustomed to rifters and their troubles, the horrors they’ve left behind in coming here. Astrid doesn’t have that background yet, and isn’t used to talking them through these crises. She left her own troubles behind, but she chose to run; she wasn’t plucked from it as Abella was.

She scoots further to the edge of the bed. Cup lowered and tilted too far against her knee, a careless drop spilling as she doesn’t notice. )

It’s not like you had a choice, ( she says, firm, and it’s about coming to Thedas; but it unknowingly might fit about the train, too. ) You didn’t choose to leave them. Don’t feel guilty about that.

[undergrunn]

( Her gaze is still fixed on the floor, away from Astrid. She nods, even that movement jagged and betraying her emotion. )

I know.

( Blinking, she hasn't quite recognised that tears have spilled down her cheeks. )

But I hate that I'm here and they're not. There were-- we were given three days, and told only one of us could survive to the end. They could have had to kill each other, and I've just been safe here.

[brennvin]

( There’s more details and context to seize at there, if Abella’s come from some sort of fucked-up battle royale, but Astrid’s chewing on her lip, her boot jogging against the floor. Trying to decide what the right approach is, before she finally settles on: )

I mean, in fairness, you’re not safe here either. I don’t know if that’s any consolation? ( This is a bizarre consolation. But it’s an attempt, her voice warm and trying for reassuring. ) I mean, look at the towers we just had to rebuild, and parts of the city are still fucked. There’s demons and blighted animals and darkspawn and an evil god-sorcerer-guy who wants to kill us. You’re not not in danger. Technically, like. We could go get bitten by some fucked-up Fade-touched bears if that’d make you feel better.

[undergrunn]

( Abella wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and shakes her head with a broken laugh. )

You’re an ass.

( It’s not a criticism. The honest reminder of all the dangers here both helps and doesn’t. )

We’re being driven to insanity. And at the end of three days— if we don’t figure out a way to get everyone out alive, we’ll turn into monsters, too. There’s terrible things everywhere, and I know people here are suffering. I don’t— I’m not trying to dismiss that like it’s nothing.

( She makes herself look back to Astrid. She has to, if only to convey that she knows Thedas is hardly idyllic, and even then convey the weight of where her friends are. )

Prehevil was turned into—- into hell with a countdown. It’s not the same thing.