[OPEN] When your seams have come unknitted and you cry out to the sky

[maltesefalcon]

Who: Cerrit Agrupnin and you
When: Early December
Where: Yes!
Warning(s): Will be in comment subject lines

1. All the pins inside your fretted head [Patrol route]
It's a dark and stormy afternoon, or perhaps a morning with fog thick as pea soup, and Cerrit is in it up to his elbows. The enforcers' patrol doesn't let up for a little weather. No, Cerrit left his beat cop days in Avalir behind decades ago, but here he is again, starting from the ground up. Perhaps you're in a shop when he ducks in to get a moment's reprieve from the beating rain, or perhaps you're another enforcer assigned to patrol with him.

Get your noir detective drama here.


2. And your muttered whens and hows [The bluffs and the beach]
It is a clear, if crisp day that Cerrit chooses to make an investigation of the barrier. If you're in the area, you might see a large winged figure flying right up to that ring in the water that marks the barrier, or standing on the sand and staring contemplatively.

It's relatively clear what he's up to. Care to discuss the matter with him? He could use a rubber duck.


3. All your mother's weaves and your father's threads [Jean's training grounds]
With the work a certain nugget's put into trying to organize people, Cerrit's thrown a good deal of support behind the project. If someone needs training in basic weapon forms, he's glad to spar with his escrima sticks or a quarterstaff--though he's wary of hand-to-hand, given exactly how sharp his hands are. Or he might simply take someone on a run along one of the trails, because conditioning is just as important as fighting form, and running away will save lives.

Either way, there's a huge-ass bird offering his expertise to anyone who wants it. Perhaps if you get him talking, you can get other types of training as well...


4. Let me rob them of you now [Wildcard]
Find me at darkersolstice to plot.

Comments

3.

[lightconductor]

It's just a walk that's brought Watson over here, though at least in part a walk with a purpose. He wants to see, of course, what sort of training might be done here, if there's good in it.

The bird-man, though, who Watson's already taken an interest in (he could hardly help it, but he at least knows himself well enough to be very sceptical of his own intentions), is already there, and he pauses to watch for a moment. "You know singlestick, I see."

[maltesefalcon]

"It's a style I was trained in as one of the Eyes of Avalir. Though I'm more practiced with hand-axes." There's a pause, Cerrit's gaze drifting down to Watson's cane thoughtfully. "And you? Have you had to defend yourself with the cane before?"

[lightconductor]

"Hand-axes. Good heavens. Not my weapon of choice."

Watson glances down at his cane as well. "On occasion, yes. I prefer to rely on a pistol -- I'm a decent enough shot -- but sometimes you work with what you have, and sometimes a stick is what you have." He lifts his stick in his hand, balancing the weight. "Many men carry a stick, for one reason or another, but not everyone is prepared to use it to such a purpose."

[maltesefalcon]

"Erm, what is a 'pistol'? I don't think they have such a thing in my world, unless it's called something else, perhaps."

Firearms won't be invented in Exandria for centuries yet.

[lightconductor]

"No?" That's a bit of a surprise, but who knows what's normal in a world with magic and bird-men? Watson shakes his head with the faint puzzlement of a man explaining something he thought of as ubiquitous enough to not need an explanation, and also something he's not an expert in the construction of. "A revolver, a small gun. A weapon that uses black powder to propel a projectile at your enemy, usually something small and metal."

He grimaces. "I shall have to see if I can obtain something decent here. I hate being without mine."

[maltesefalcon]

"Black powder? How odd. I imagine such a thing could be quite the equalizer, in a world lacking magic." He's used a sling and ball bearings, imagining those propelled by explosives is...well, kinda scary, honestly.

[lightconductor]

"I haven't anything to compare it to, but likely enough, it would. It certainly revolutionised warfare," and there's a rueful note to his voice there. "Once I get my hands on one I'd be pleased to show you. In the meantime, I suppose I ought not to get in a fight with anything I cannot take down with my stick or my fists."

[maltesefalcon]

"At least, not alone. Perhaps you should befriend someone who might be able to aid you, should you find your way to trouble. Or who'll join you in the act of finding trouble, if you can find someone like that."

Bird facial expressions are hard to read, but tone of voice implies some humor there.

[lightconductor]

Watson glances at Cerrit in surprise, and then laughs.

"Very good advice," he says, seriously. "Obviously staying out of trouble in the first place is impossible for me, and likely enough for you as well. Trouble is always better with a friend, I've found."

Cerrit is not Holmes. He is different in several important ways. Still, there's something comfortingly familiar about him at times, and that's... appealing, in a way he's not sure he should be encouraging.

[maltesefalcon]

"So what we need to see is if our attraction for trouble is compounded additively or multiplied by our association. Or, perhaps, canceled out entirely. It will take a lot of testing."

That is the nerdiest way to ask someone to hang out, Cerrit.

[lightconductor]

Fortunately, Watson is also a nerd.

"I rather hope it isn't cancelled out entirely. Sounds like a terribly boring existence to me. Still, we may as well test it now." He shifts his weight to lift his cane in the air. "Perhaps you are in need of a sparring partner, Sightwarden?"

[maltesefalcon]

"Perhaps I am."

He readies his sticks, wings folding against his back, out of his way more. The feathers on his crest lift slightly as his attention focuses. It's not the same as a smug smile, but it is something.

"When you're ready, Doctor."

[lightconductor]

The levels of body language Watson needs to learn are significant.

For a moment, Watson holds himself ready, moving back and forth between his front and rear foot. His bad leg is already complaining, gently, in the way that lets him know that this is ultimately a temporary pastime, but that doesn't mean he won't do it while he can, either.

He swings forward with his stick, not particularly hard, but suddenly in order to try to avoid telegraphing his intent.

2

[thelatechrisfreeman]

As Cerrit contemplates the barrier from the beach, he'll likely hear someone come up beside him. Especially once Chris speaks.

"Good day, Cerrit. Contemplating an escape?"

[maltesefalcon]

"Already made a few attempts. I'm reminded of a discussion I once had with some friend about what the difference is between a void and an abyss."

He smooths the feathers of his neck like someone might stroke their beard.

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"A void implies emptiness, yes? Whereas an abyss might have things in it."

Chris gazes out over the water themself, then asks, "What happens when you try to cross?"

[maltesefalcon]

"You find yourself in a storm that is too dangerous to fly through. Obscured vision, lightning strokes, winds gusting from unpredictable directions. It's chaotic, it's wild, and the moment you turn back, you emerge back where you crossed, no matter how far you think you got into the storm. Which makes me wonder if the storm is how another phenomenon is being perceived. It's an abyss, for certain."

Cerrit pauses, looking sidelong at Chris. "I don't like it."

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris frowns slightly as they take in the information about what lies on the other side of the barrier.

"I think I would be worried if you did like it." Chris taps their chin, and then asks, "Do you think you'd be able to carry me and still fly through? I... I'd be willing to... go on a boat to get closer beforehand."

[maltesefalcon]

There's a moment of thought, calculating weight and flight.

"It's not the weight that concerns me, but the possibility of dropping you or getting you struck by lightning. I'm not sure I'm comfortable the idea of taking anyone else into that sort of danger without some sort of harness or something."

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"Aren't you running the same kind of risks, with the lightning at least?" Chris asks, in a mild tone of voice. Not arguing the idea of a harness, just asking. "Anyway, the reason I ask about being taken in would be to see if I can see anything different about the storm when I'm keyed to the Between."

Chris taps into the power momentarily, letting their eyes flash that solid red, like freshly spilled blood. That color fades slowly as they keep talking. "When I tap into the power more actively, I can see ghosts clearly. See beyond the physical. I can't guarantee, but maybe I'd see something other than the storm..?"

[maltesefalcon]

"I'm comfortable risking myself. You're young and don't need to be in that kind of danger."

That's snapped out automatically, without even a moment's thought. Whoops, bird dad has weird protective feelings.

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"I'm thirty years old, Cerrit," Chris says, still in that mild tone of voice. "I know I look a bit younger, but... just so you know."

They glance over at him, and say gently, "I won't argue. If you feel better having me in a harness instead, then we can get that set up for later. What do you think about the idea of using my special vision to observe the storm?"

Let's keep this discussion on topic, after all.

[maltesefalcon]

There's a bit of a fluffing of wings, bristling.

"We'll figure out a harness. And see what it looks like from a boat too."

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"Hopefully we won't have to spend too much time below deck. I've got someone else's bad memories of being trapped a boat's hold stuck in my brain, and.... it's just not a good time to have too many parallels."

They shrug. Nothing for it. "But I'm still willing to help how I can -- gotta get out to that barrier somehow, and options are limited."

[maltesefalcon]

"We'll figure it out together, then." Cerrit nods. "What sort of special vision do you have, anyway?"