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Inbox - Faderift

Just a humble medicine seller

BOOK & NOTES	SENDING CRYSTAL	ACTION
<span style="font-family: monospace;"><B>FROM:</B>(NAME) <blockquote>TEXT GOES HERE</blockquote></span>	<span style="font-family: monospace;"><B>FROM:</B> (NAME)</span> <blockquote><SMALL> MESSAGE GOES HERE</SMALL></blockquote>	<span style="font-family: monospace;"><b>( 1 ) ACTION</B> WHO, WHEN <blockquote>[ WHAT THEY DOIN ]</blockquote></span>

CODE BY WHAMBAM

Threaded | Flat

(Atticus is not the only masked man in the Fade tonight, it seems.)

He stands in the middle of a grove of dazzlingly colorful trees, whose leaves and flower blossoms are bits of tinsel and ornamental paper. A row of luminous paper lanterns light his path towards a thicket. He follows it with slow, measured steps, and that is when he first glimpses the masked face through the trees; a face that belongs to a creature unlike any he's seen before, and one that seems to ghost from view when he turns his eyes directly on it.

At the end of the path he's confronted with row after row of empty seats that frame a central stage, where a raised wooden dais elevates an elaborately illustrated pastoral scene for the absent audience. There is no one present at all that Atticus can see, save for the occasional shiver and shift of a spirit drifting like dandelion fluff through the walls.

Pensive, he glances backwards over his shoulder again to search the trees for the strange face; he feels the weight of the eyes on him, but no one approaches him. Not yet, at any rate.

With a flick of his wrist, Atticus raises stones from the earth that he can step onto, in order to ascend to the dais, to explore the strange, stylized tapestries woven into the fine fabric of the backdrop. When he reaches out to touch it, he draws back fingers wet with paint. He turns and drags it like a paintbrush through the air, sending a gout of green light bursting from his fingertips and scattering shades of bright color across the sky.

He smiles as he does so; perhaps toying a bit with his host's sandbox will coax him out of the shadows.

Glaewron, [ politely. ] I am in need of an apothecary. I do not suppose you would be willing to check your wares for a certain item?

Good evening, Glaewron,

[ he calls at an hour fairly soon after the Gallows mess would have closed for the evening. his tone is polite, perfunctory. ]

This is not a social call, but rather one under the purview of Research. Would you mind describing, as best you are able, whatever you were doing shortly before you arrived in Thedas?

[ pause, shuffling of paper. ]

I am seeking to gather information about Rifters. As the Inquisition has stopped conducting formal interviews upon arrival, we do not have much documentation on the phenomenon for those of us who have arrived more recently. You are not obligated to answer, and are quite free to refuse.

Edited 2017-11-12 02:23 (UTC)

Glaewron, [ Yes, she's swiping Thranduil's name for him, fight her. ] are you available, at the moment? I wanted to give you your Satinalia gift, if that's alright.

I'm not altogether certain if Medicine Seller is your name or your title, my apologies. It's Anders. Are you interested in matters relating to mages? I'm not certain what Rifters may or may not be.

Glaewron, I know this is somewhat belated, but...I wanted to thank you for the gifts. I burnt the incense at the memorial for Sina that's been set up in the garden. It smelled...very nice.

[ She sounds like an idiot and words are hard. Ugh. ]

I'm sorry that I took so long to thank you for it. Or to speak to you at all.

The Veil, [ she says, as though it's only just occurred to her. she doesn't bother with the niceties. this is coupe, this is coupe, and how many times have they all heard that already? unnecessary, now. ] Is there one of your home?

So this is a little... awkward.

It's sometime in the late afternoon when Kit arrives outside the Medicine Seller's peculiar shop and home. He loiters outside a few paces away, finishing off his cigarette (working up his courage, maybe), before he at last strolls up to the door, casual as can be, and knocks.

"Hey, uh. It's Kit." A pause. "You there?"

Is this, ah,

[ surely he has another name. surely there's some part of this file that is missing.

(surely there isn't. casimir can recognize his own handwriting, doesn't need to question its fastidiousness —) ]

The Medicine Seller?

[ obviously. the crystal works. ]

Greetings, again, Master. Pardon the interruption, but may I call upon your expertise for a moment?

Was she alright?

Threaded | Flat

dream visit; timing is sometime after his chat w/ Sina

crystals ;

no subject

[crystal]

Crystal

[crystal]

crystal | during disease plot

action | backdated to a little after the snow event

crystals;

crystal;

crystal;