one ; he's a transponster!

[yourdistraction]

Who: Merrill & Fenris
Broadcast: {video} Fleet-Wide
Action: Anywhere on the Marsiva (they may split up we'll see).
When: January 14th

{VIDEO} ;

[ The video switches on to reveal— well okay it's an arm, covered in leather, chainmail and white fur, but only because the communicator's taking a moment to get pulled back, and only because there's more than one person trying to use it.

Or more than one elf, with pointed ears and both faces intricately covered in tattoos as the biggest clue. Merrill's markings are as dark as her short, braided hair and Fenris's are as light as his (there might even be a glow). Contrarily, perhaps, she looks much more cheerful in her greeting, but there is still a level of heightened stress to her tone. ]

Yes, hello! It seems we landed in the wrong time. World, actually! Now you promised, since the war's over. Can we speak to somebody in the Initiative? Where are our— Um—

[Merrill doesn't get to finish her sentence, as Fenris wrests control of the communicator from her. He looks decidedly less friendly, in fact, he looks just about ready to punch someone in the face. Hard.]

Our weapons. They are missing. [He jabs an annoyed thumb in Merrill's direction, whose irritated sigh can be heard off-camera.] I understand she likely disrupted the transporter. Just open up another one and send us back to Kirkwall. Now. I have no intention of staying on your blighted moon again. [A pause, a disdainful look around.] Or wherever this is...

[Actually, this looks distinctly non-Initiative. And it's definitely not United Earth, either, he remembers their holding pens, and this is not them. Where the heck ARE they? He doesn't have long to ponder or even let someone answer before there's another sound from Merrill off-camera; a gasp.]

There's something on you! Hold still.

What? What is- NO! Don't you touch me. [He may tolerate you existing in his life now, Merrill, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to touch him with your magey hands. He turns around a couple of times, trying to find...whatever it is on him, his hands tapping around his back until...oh he has a thing on his neck. WHY DOES HE HAVE A THING ON HIS NECK??

His fingers close on it, and he tries to yank it off. If you ever wondered what would happen if you tried to take your Augment off, wonder no more. Fenris gives a pained, frightened yelp, then curls into a horrible, shuddering ball on the floor, muttering horribly in Tevene. He's somewhere in the horrible recesses of his own broken mind right now, don't mind him.

Off-camera: ]

All right, I won't touch you.

Comments

[wolfuncaged]

Apparently, time stood still, back home. [His tone is dismissive, it was all too close to MAGIC for his liking.] I did not know if that was true or not.

...Oh.

We had television on Exsilium...that was the Initiative's...base, I suppose. It...was not pleasant. The description is apt.

[Then, because this is more important:] Are you somewhere safe? [Practicalities first, sentimentality after.]

[merchantprince]

Time stood still? If it were anyone but you telling me this, I'd ask if you'd been eating questionable food in Darktown. As it is... that explains a lot. Without explaining anything. How the hell...

[He's just gonna-- stop thinking about it.]

No need to worry about me, elf. I'm on the SS Huntress-- it's one of the smaller ships floating around the big one you're on. The crew's like one-third my age, but I'm managing.

Whenever they get you sorted, we should catch up. I've got a pretty good thing going in the waystation; I'll buy you a drink and some semi-edible food. I don't suppose you have some cards on you?

[wolfuncaged]

It gets worse. That is just the beginning of the insanity I have learned of our world.

[That gets the hint of a smile.] Being surrounded by youngsters are making you feel your ages, Dwarf?

I don't, I'm afraid. [He did, but he's pretty sure Isabella swiped them.] But I would like that. It has been far too long, old friend.

[Maybe it's been long enough for Varric to forget Fenris still owes him money. An elf can dream.]

[merchantprince]

I've aged gracefully! Like an elf. Even though I'm getting too old for this shit.

[Varric hasn't forgotten about the money he's owed, but it's been like two years. He figures he won't get paid back ever-- even if Fenris acquired money somehow (probably from Hawke).]

Oh, well. It was worth a shot.

[wolfuncaged]

Of course you have. Just like one. [Was that sarcasm? Probably.

Nope. That money is gone now. Might as well have been eaten by a dragon.]

I am sure we can procure a deck from somewhere.

[merchantprince]

At least I'm not going gray. [OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH--]

I'll ask around and see what I can come up with.

[wolfuncaged]

[Oh no you DIDN'T!!!] If I have told you once, I have told you a hundred times. It's white, not gray.

I am sure if anyone can manage such a thing, it's you.

[merchantprince]

Good news on that front: you can probably dye it fun colors with whatever crap they're making us drink.

[wolfuncaged]

[Flatly.] Oh. Hooray.

Is it worse than the swill they give us in the Hanged Man?

[Because that stuff is pretty dire.]

[merchantprince]

It's actually got alcohol in it. It's just... fruit flavored.

Hope you got a sweet tooth, elf.

[wolfuncaged]

The swill in the Hanged Man had alcohol in it, it didn't mean it was actually bearable, Dwarf.

...I am going to regret drinking it. [And yet, drink it he will. Coping mechanisms, yay.]

[merchantprince]

It had alcohol? That's news to me.

[What a couple of sad alcoholics they are.]

You are. But it's really not that bad once you're numb to the taste.

[wolfuncaged]

Not good alcohol.

[It's heartbreaking, really.]

I will take what comfort I can from that. I suppose it is better than nothing.