"Ruadh," is punctuated by an unimpressed chuff of sound from the mabari in question. Ellis' voice inevitably warms over the syllables. Roo-ah, accent thickening over the name even as the massive dog lifts his head to sniff at the air and let the scent draw him up along the path further. Ellis makes no move to stop him, turning more fully to Strange instead.
“Nope.” A lazy plosive snap of the P, a smack of the lips; still those loose and modern affectations which would Ellis would have seen and heard more of back on Earth. “We’re examining that artifact we constructed from the Crossroads, but it’s nothing time-sensitive as far as I can tell. I needed a break, and I doubt I was on the verge of some groundbreaking revelation in the next hour.”
Plus, he’s giving himself a bit of a breather from their weeks spent jaunting universes. (And yet— only five days had passed back here, which might have been mind-melting to some, but this is Strange’s third go at it. Time is malleable. He knows that well.)
Well, this just took a turn. Strange had been looking at the dog, but now his head tilts, full attention wired back to the other man.
“Not yet,” he says. That yet is operative. “But I miss flying — you’ve seen what the Cloak used to do, back where I’m from — so I’ve considered getting trained.”
"The griffons are capable of carrying three," Ellis returns, easy over the words. Assessing the shift in attention, the lack of skepticism. "We'd make good time to the Hunterhorn Mountains, if you are interested in accompanying me."
A slow blink. This conversation feels a bit like a stairwell with a missing step; his metaphorical foot’s plunged through and now he’s just dangling there, lost.
“What, for a… holiday? Are the Hunterhorn Mountains very nice this time of year? I tend to get to know someone a bit better before we vacation together.”
This is very obviously not the response Ellis had been expecting.
A moment's pause, slight frown shadowing his face before Ellis shakes his head.
"Not for a holiday. We would be seeking members of my order. I've permission from the Commander to bring others along with me, in case we are met with trouble."
Like dragons. Or Imperial soldiers. Or Venatori. Or simply the kind of inhospitable creatures who make their home among the Hunterhorns.
"I would ask for your discretion, before you decide whether or not you would join us."
And obviously this isn’t the invitation Strange had been expecting (he had, after all, no idea what to expect). But now that Ellis has clarified, Strange’s mouth shapes around a little oh, and well, that makes a lot more sense.
And he does the request the respect of not immediately launching back into habitual sarcasm, either. He stops to consider it, arms folded, shoulders steeled against a breeze coming in off the water.
“I’m honoured to be considered,” he eventually says, because it’s the truth. The request seems like it entails a certain level of trust. “And I’m certainly willing, with a bit more information. What kind of discretion, and why? Isn’t this the sort of thing Riftwatch does all the time?”
"This isn't Riftwatch's business, not truly. I have the Commander's leave to pursue it, but it is Grey Warden business."
And Ellis wouldn't have asked for anyone to accompany him, if it weren't such obviously dangerous terrain. The Hunterhorns is not exactly easy territory to travel in the best of times, and these days the entirety of the north and the Anderfels is unsettled territory.
"I've heard rumors of a Warden encampment in the Hunterhorns. Wardens who have broken with the force in Weisshaupt Fortress. I want to know if there is any truth to word they've set up in the Hunterhorn Mountains."
The look he lifts up to Strange is expectant, assessing his reaction. Rifters are a mixed bag; whether or not what Ellis has said so far means anything to a rifter is anyone's guess.
He doesn’t have the intimate history. But some of it catches and snags on faint familiarity, as he quickly scrolls through the mental rolodex and what he can remember about words like Grey Wardens and Weisshaupt Fortress. It’s the mere basics, a Cliffsnotes to the Anderfels’ armed conflict, but —
“The ones in Weisshaupt are allied to Tevinter, right? So we’re looking for potential deserters who might be able to join our cause?”
"Should we find Wardens in the Hunterhorns who have departed Weisshaupt Fortress, I would like to know what their intentions are. If they have not come south yet, there will be a reason."
Maybe not necessarily one they care to share with Riftwatch. Maybe not necessarily one they care to share with Ellis.
He does not say this.
"If they are working against Tevinter, we may be of use to each other. Allies."
“And it sounds like we could do with as many of those as we can get.”
The severity of the war has been drummed into him, over and over. This has been going on for years. It’s attrition, not one giant fuck-all heroic battle and then calling it a day.
Strange’s gaze drifts down to that dog, still snuffling around by Ellis’ feet, then back up to the other man, considering.
“Alright. I’m in,” he re-affirms. Partially because he likes to meddle, likes to be in the room where it happens, can’t stand to sit on the sidelines, and partially because this guy seems to matter to Tony — “I’m probably missing a lot of the context, but whichever way I can help. It sounds like there’ll be time to catch me up on the necessaries while we travel, anyway.”
A thinning of the mouth, and: “Also. If it turns out that they’re still a threat, or their motivations remain antithetical to our own. What’s the plan of action?”
A brief, measured pause. Ruadh stills in turn, pausing in his circle around Ellis to look up at Strange from Ellis' hip.
"You should understand, there is little chance of that. If their motivations are as you fear, they would not have fled, much less hidden themselves."
Though the question deserves an answer.
Ellis has to wind his way towards one, because it is not so simple. Harder, for a rifter, perhaps.
"But if it is so, then I will try to convince them otherwise," is a steady, quiet assertion. "And if not, then we will need to decide whether or not we can leave them be."
Makes sense, to punt the decision further down the road. They don’t have to make it now — and shouldn’t, with so little information at hand yet. So Strange just nods, crisply. Accepting that interim answer, for what it’s worth.
“Just wanted to hear if you were open to the notion that they might not be friendly, and hard decisions might have to be made. Sometimes old loyalties can get us into hot water. Sometimes the loyalty helps. Sometimes it’s not worth for shit.”
There’s something brittle there, a faint touch of speaking from experience.
There’s an uptick to the corner of Strange’s mouth: a twist to his expression and something a little nostalgic, fond. “Not at all,” he says. “I used to fly everywhere back home, with my Cloak of Levitation. Got used to seeing everything from a birds’ eye view. I miss it. So a griffon ought to be a nice change of pace.”
Having to consider managing one rifter with a fear of heights, Ellis is still thinking on what that will look like long term. It's somewhat reassuring, to know that he won't have to consider doing the same for a man he knows less well.
"You might see about making friends with some of the griffons, in the meantime. I'll let you know when I've finished making arrangements for us to go."
He’s making mental note of it, another item to the to-do list: griffon riding just soared a little higher in the priorities. And if he can’t win one over in time, at least someone else could take him as a passenger.
“Alright,” Strange says, and there’s the sense of their conversation winding down: an agreement made, a promise for the future done. The dog is staring attentively at him, and the sorcerer looks back, quirks another smile.
“Keep me posted. And the mountainside vacation will just have to be another time.”
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portalling) wrote2022-04-02 01:17 pm
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hell yea
"I am not interrupting?"
no subject
Plus, he’s giving himself a bit of a breather from their weeks spent jaunting universes. (And yet— only five days had passed back here, which might have been mind-melting to some, but this is Strange’s third go at it. Time is malleable. He knows that well.)
“Is everything alright?”
no subject
Ahead of them, Ruadh snuffles along the edge of the path. Paws at a puddle, stirring silt and ripples.
"Can you ride a griffin?"
no subject
“Not yet,” he says. That yet is operative. “But I miss flying — you’ve seen what the Cloak used to do, back where I’m from — so I’ve considered getting trained.”
no subject
no subject
“What, for a… holiday? Are the Hunterhorn Mountains very nice this time of year? I tend to get to know someone a bit better before we vacation together.”
no subject
A moment's pause, slight frown shadowing his face before Ellis shakes his head.
"Not for a holiday. We would be seeking members of my order. I've permission from the Commander to bring others along with me, in case we are met with trouble."
Like dragons. Or Imperial soldiers. Or Venatori. Or simply the kind of inhospitable creatures who make their home among the Hunterhorns.
"I would ask for your discretion, before you decide whether or not you would join us."
no subject
And he does the request the respect of not immediately launching back into habitual sarcasm, either. He stops to consider it, arms folded, shoulders steeled against a breeze coming in off the water.
“I’m honoured to be considered,” he eventually says, because it’s the truth. The request seems like it entails a certain level of trust. “And I’m certainly willing, with a bit more information. What kind of discretion, and why? Isn’t this the sort of thing Riftwatch does all the time?”
no subject
And Ellis wouldn't have asked for anyone to accompany him, if it weren't such obviously dangerous terrain. The Hunterhorns is not exactly easy territory to travel in the best of times, and these days the entirety of the north and the Anderfels is unsettled territory.
"I've heard rumors of a Warden encampment in the Hunterhorns. Wardens who have broken with the force in Weisshaupt Fortress. I want to know if there is any truth to word they've set up in the Hunterhorn Mountains."
The look he lifts up to Strange is expectant, assessing his reaction. Rifters are a mixed bag; whether or not what Ellis has said so far means anything to a rifter is anyone's guess.
no subject
He doesn’t have the intimate history. But some of it catches and snags on faint familiarity, as he quickly scrolls through the mental rolodex and what he can remember about words like Grey Wardens and Weisshaupt Fortress. It’s the mere basics, a Cliffsnotes to the Anderfels’ armed conflict, but —
“The ones in Weisshaupt are allied to Tevinter, right? So we’re looking for potential deserters who might be able to join our cause?”
no subject
Maybe not necessarily one they care to share with Riftwatch. Maybe not necessarily one they care to share with Ellis.
He does not say this.
"If they are working against Tevinter, we may be of use to each other. Allies."
A specific choice of word. Not recruits.
no subject
The severity of the war has been drummed into him, over and over. This has been going on for years. It’s attrition, not one giant fuck-all heroic battle and then calling it a day.
Strange’s gaze drifts down to that dog, still snuffling around by Ellis’ feet, then back up to the other man, considering.
“Alright. I’m in,” he re-affirms. Partially because he likes to meddle, likes to be in the room where it happens, can’t stand to sit on the sidelines, and partially because this guy seems to matter to Tony — “I’m probably missing a lot of the context, but whichever way I can help. It sounds like there’ll be time to catch me up on the necessaries while we travel, anyway.”
A thinning of the mouth, and: “Also. If it turns out that they’re still a threat, or their motivations remain antithetical to our own. What’s the plan of action?”
He has to ask. For clarity.
no subject
"You should understand, there is little chance of that. If their motivations are as you fear, they would not have fled, much less hidden themselves."
Though the question deserves an answer.
Ellis has to wind his way towards one, because it is not so simple. Harder, for a rifter, perhaps.
"But if it is so, then I will try to convince them otherwise," is a steady, quiet assertion. "And if not, then we will need to decide whether or not we can leave them be."
no subject
“Just wanted to hear if you were open to the notion that they might not be friendly, and hard decisions might have to be made. Sometimes old loyalties can get us into hot water. Sometimes the loyalty helps. Sometimes it’s not worth for shit.”
There’s something brittle there, a faint touch of speaking from experience.
“But we’ll have we see when we get there.”
no subject
Old loyalties indeed. There is a chance that Ellis will not be so warmly welcomed. He knows this.
"I've others to speak with, before we go. But once I've answers from them, and we can be reasonably certain we can be spared here, we will go."
And then, almost as an afterthought—
"You've no fear of heights?"
no subject
no subject
Having to consider managing one rifter with a fear of heights, Ellis is still thinking on what that will look like long term. It's somewhat reassuring, to know that he won't have to consider doing the same for a man he knows less well.
"You might see about making friends with some of the griffons, in the meantime. I'll let you know when I've finished making arrangements for us to go."
& closed probably
“Alright,” Strange says, and there’s the sense of their conversation winding down: an agreement made, a promise for the future done. The dog is staring attentively at him, and the sorcerer looks back, quirks another smile.
“Keep me posted. And the mountainside vacation will just have to be another time.”
(Har, har.)