sixthiterationlogs | One | Fate Emptied of Hope

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One | Fate Emptied of Hope

WHO: Alistair Theirin
WHERE: Fountain Square/Inn
WHEN: Dec 27, Evening
OPEN TO: One at the fountain (Claimed by Zev), OTA at the Inn, per usual.
WARNINGS: None - will edit if any occur.

'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams:

"Very funny," came the voice from near the fountain. Dripping wet and cold, Alistair looked challengingly up at the sky, arms held out to either side. "But I don't know how you thought I'd fall for this! This isn't Redcliffe," he called. "And it's definitely not Denerim or Kirkwall or Wycome. It's not any of those tiny towns in Orlais. I've never seen this place before, so it's not my memory, cheater!"

Bending down, he picked up the first thing he saw - oh, a rock, that'll help - and threw it upward, not really noticing where it went. He heard it fall on the ground somewhere, but that was neither here nor there. It was proof he'd thrown it the wrong way, if anything.

"I don't trust you, Nightmare!" More agitated, he started to look for another rock. Another anything. "Or is this some Despair Demon's work? Encroaching on your territory now that you lost the Inquisitor? Well tough luck to you both - I'm not afraid anymore, and there's nothing left for me to Despair over. I might be the Maker's own idiot, but I'm not going to trust this illusion!"

Where had his sword gone. His shield, his armour. Which direction was the damned Nightmare?! He couldn't fight the damned thing if he couldn't see it, and he couldn't see it. Anywhere. Whatever Demon it was fueling this illusion, it was better than any he'd fought through yet, and he didn't want to think about what that meant.

In ignorance stumbling:

There was a good fire burning, and that was nice. Really, the place was nicer than roughly every other inn he'd ever seen, including the Hanged Man -- Well, honestly, it far surpassed the Hanged Man, the Pearl, definitely the Spoiled Princess. Places with names he couldn't remember because all he'd been concerned about was finding the bottom of his mug and then having another.

No such luck here, not that he minded. He'd had years to leave that particular vice behind, not that it had been a kind one while he'd had it. But at least now he was warm, dry, and, though confused, knew a few things for certain: There was food, there was shelter, and there was a chance - at least something of a chance - that this wasn't the Fade.

As he stood by the fire, pleasantly toasting himself, he realised he had a lot to think about. And that thought made his head hurt. Nose wrinkled, Alistair rubbed at his temples, muttering a quiet, "Ow."

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"...That sounds like something I'd name a village anyway. That or Bob," he allowed. "All right - I'll follow your lead. I'm starting to get extra toasty standing here anyway."

His belongings - such as they were - he left behind. After all, if someone really wanted the other set of these green things, that was their problem.

"Bob." Thor lets out a quiet chortle. He likes this name. It's solid, secure. One syllable and fun to say. "Bob," he repeats. "Perhaps we can get the others on board with that. I like the idea of calling it Bob. North Bob and South Bob?"

Thor nods and keeps a pleasant smile on his face. It's not all that different from his default expression, but it's perhaps a bit warmer than normal to make the stranger feel a bit more comfortable. He begins to lead the way out of the Inn, holding the door open and motioning for the man to go through before him.

"Oh, forgive me. I've not introduced myself. My name is Thor Odinson. Or Thor, Son of Odin, if you want to be more formal."

Bob. He nodded as he followed and--

"Oh, right, introductions. I'm Alistair. ...Theirin. If that even matters here. I'm guessing it doesn't because that family name would only really matter back in Thedas." And honestly, he was pretty glad it didn't matter here. It'd been nothing but a shadow hanging over his entire life.

"Alistair! That's a neat name. I've not heard that one before," Thor states with amused enthusiasm. "I'm happy to have met you, Alistair Theirin." As he walks out into the village proper, he starts to head in one direction and then stops to look at Alistair with a curious glint in his gaze. "Thedas. I've heard that before. Who was I talking to who said it ..?"

He squints, glancing upwards to try and recall. With a point in Alistair's direction, he grins.

"Zevran! He's an Elf! He's here! I think he's also from Thedas. Is he your friend? There's also a very, very large .. er, being here! He's also from Thedas, I think, because he said he was from Zevran's world. His name is Bull. He's very muscular and large and impressive."

"Zevran's an old friend," he said, nodding. "We traveled together... thirteen years or so ago, by my reckoning. Less than that by his. And I know Bull as well, but not as well. I've just known him ... I don't know, some weeks or so." He shrugged. "I'm not sure. Everything was getting blurry there toward the end.

"Not the point, though. Um. How many people are there here, anyway?" Easier to ask that than think about... things.

"That ... is an excellent question," Thor says, glancing upwards as he starts to count the villagers he can remember on his fingers. Once he hits ten, he realizes he's fighting an uphill battle and instead settles on, "There are a lot of us. At least ten. Probably closer to .. 80? Perhaps 90? I haven't really been keeping track, but based on how many people I've seen wandering out and the things I've heard from people who've been here longer."

Alistair watched and...

Either this man leaned more into playing dumb than he did or he suddenly felt very intelligent indeed. He'd seen Thor stop counting at ten and that was.

That was something.

"A smallish village, then," he said instead, considering. "About the same size as Honnleath but no golem in the middle of town, so that might be an improvement. Any mage towers or anything like that I should know to stay out of?"

"A very small village," Thor agrees, nodding his head. "My home of Asgard has around 10,000. Well, it had more than that before the Dark Elves came, and Odin-knows what might be left now since my stupid sister decided to show up and ruin everything, but .. anything less than a hundred is so small in comparison. So tiny." He pinches his thumb and forefinger together, keeping only a centimeter's worth of space between them to illustrate his point.

"Golem .. There's .. nothing like that, not that I know of. Giant rock things, right? That sort of golem? I met one on Sakaar; very nice fellow. His name was Korg. His best friend was an insect with knives for hands. I also fought one once, but .. he was not as nice as Korg." His brain wanders off for a second to wonder what's become of his friends; did they make it off of Sakaar? "Mage .. towers .. I don't think there are any towers, mage ones or otherwise." He tries to sound like he knows what a "mage tower" is, but his tone is less than convincing.

He sounded like he got golems. And mage towers - or at least, close enough. So Alistair accepted his answers with a nod. Besides, if a golem like Shale was here, something told him she would've probably already picked a fight with Thor, just because she could.

...He kind of missed Shale. Though he did know that if she was here, there would be many less birds. There was one thing he had to ask, though.

"There are different kinds of elves on your world?"

"Oh, yeah," Thor replies with an emphatic nod. He starts making his way towards the Forge, simply because it a bit of a central location for him and where he spends most of his time. "Dark Elves are the mean ones, though. Terrible. Just .. the worst. The Light Elves are good, though. I like them much more. Zevran said there aren't different kinds where you're from. Well, he said there are .. forest elves? And city elves? But that there aren't light or dark or anything like that."

"Yeah, it's basically... same elves, different cultures? Kind of? I mean, the Dalish elves wander around with aravels and deer pulling them and they have fancy tattoos on their faces that mean things, and then there are the city elves who mostly live in the asshole of the city where everything's vaguely damp and smells horrible because the humans won't let them live anywhere else," he said, rambling his way through the explanation. "And sometimes Dalish elves go to the city and sometimes city elves run away to join the Dalish, and then there's Tevinter--"

His nose wrinkled.

"Worst place ever if you're an elf, really..."

Thor tucks his thumbs into his pockets as they walk, listening to Alistair attempt to explain the two different kinds of elves he has in his world. Funny, Thor thinks, that they both have elves — and two version, at that — yet they're so incredibly different. He naturally has no idea what these references or locations mean, but he's a good listener all the same. He nods appropriately, smiles, and continues leading on the way to the forge at a relatively casual pace.

"Oh, the asshole of the city. You also have a giant anus in your world? I had to go through the Devil's Anus in order to escape Sakaar, but instead of bringing me to Asgard, it brought me .. here."

"A giant--

"What? Did--

"I have to be misunderstanding something. You went through an actual anus to get here?"

He pretended stupidity, but he knew what an anus was. And the idea of one big enough to fit Thor would haunt some brand new nightmares for a while.

"An act— oh! No! Yes, this has been something many others have gotten confused about, too, so don't worry!" Thor encourages with a smile and a shake of his head. "It's — I don't know why, but that's what it was called. It was this giant — portal? I guess you'd call it a portal. This giant swirling hole of death, and it was red. So, you know. Devil's Anus."

"Okay, that is both a relief and terrifying in a different way," Alistair answered, the nebulous image of some huge creature beginning to dissipate moment by moment. "We had similar - kind of. We had a big green hole in the sky, except we knew where it led, and it was eventually going to destroy the world, and--

"And...

"...Huh. I... just realised I don't know how that story ends..."

"For the record, I did not name it that. It was already pre-named when I found out about it. I think I would've tried to pick something less frightening or strange. Maybe like, Strawberry Fountain. Although that doesn't quite convey how scary it really was. And it wasn't really a fountain. Maybe Strawberry Swirl, since it was swirling?" Thor considers other names for the Devil's Anus for a few seconds before disregarding it all together. It doesn't really matter, he figures; according to his friend, Bruce, they made it through and they made it back to Asgard in time to save his people from his sister's destruction.

Thor can sympathize with Alistair, and he makes a face to show it as he stops outside of the Forge.

"Is there anyone here from your world that you might be able to ask? That's the only reason I know how my story ends — one of my friends who was there told me."

"I... maybe. Zevran is here from before me. I'm not sure about anyone else, but then I've only been here for... uh. A day? If that?" So, really, he'd have to take some time to ask around.

As it was, he exhaled and shook his head. "Probably in the next few days. I need to catch up on some rest."

"No, there's no need to exhaust yourself in your search for answers right away. And the information will do you no good if you're also battling exhaustion and .. you know, the whole ... adjustment thing. To living here." Being trapped here, more like.

"This is the Forge," he starts, turning towards the door and giving it a gentle pat. "I'm here most of the time, along with some others. Tony Stark is the one who's mostly in charge, and he's usually the one organizing different projects around the village. We can make all sorts of things here! We make a surprisingly high number of nails, which isn't very exciting, but very needed." He begins to push through to enter the Forge before stopping and turning towards Alistair. "I hope you find your answers, though, and I hope they are what you wish."

Alistair nodded a bit, looking at Thor with a genuine appreciation. "Thank you. I've... got a lot of thinking to do."

If only his head wasn't already so full. Tomorrow, he'd not remember he'd been brought here. He'd barely remember more than people's faces and names. But what he would remember would be the well-wishes, which were both surprising and heartening at once.

"Seeing as this village is so small, I'm sure I'll see you about, Thor. ...Thank you. Again."

And then, with a small smile, he turned to go, and to let Thor do as he wanted.

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One | Fate Emptied of Hope

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I 1000000000% THOUGHT I REPLIED TO THIS I'M SO SORRY

No worries!

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