[ Please pretend that the two of them have had at a couple of short-lived text conversations already... ] Hello Fern. Have y [ ... ... ...
A few minutes later: ] I apologize, I sent the message earlier than I intended. Have you heard of the sale at the grocer's? They were trying to rid their stock of canned soup.
[ Lucina actually tries with her texting. Fern, meanwhile, hasn't bothered to learn things like proper pronunciation or capitalization. The only capitalization that happens is when the phone does it for her. ]
I have yet to visit quadrant 4 myself, but I admit all of the supplies in the 'mall' in zone 1 made the drive worthwhile. [ She's pointedly not talking about the temple because things got weird there... Yeah. ]
[ There's a few minutes of silence between these two sets of messages; mostly because Lucina's a horrifically slow typer. It's especially noticeable when she starts typing longer messages, like so: ]
I met a man named Adrian just the other week in the space where the resort used to be. The resort turned into an overgrown forest just as we arrived! I had been warned it could happen, but it was another thing to experience it first hand. [ The definition of "arrived" being used very loosely, here; Adrian was stuck waist-down in the dirt because the pool had turned into solid ground. Lucina was just walking in. But embarrassing a man that's not even here is probably very rude, so. ]
[ She doesn't really know how to describe it, especially over text message. She isn't going to even bother trying, unlike Lucina, who is doing her best.
What Lucina relates to her next, though, sounds awfully familiar. She doesn't think this is an instance of someone else sharing a name with Adrian, even though they did in fact encounter that back in Barovia. ]
I think it is the same Adrian He told me a version of that story
[ It's her time to take forever typing. This would be easier over a call, but she assumes there's a reason that Lucina texted instead. She might be in the middle of something and unable to talk. ]
We met somewhat by chance Due to some unfortunate luck we have been traveling together for over a month now This is not our first time finding ourselves trapped in an unknown world
[ The reason is — she just thinks texting is neat. Also she's trying to practice getting faster at typing. Perfectly valid reasons for her, but no where near as dire as Fern is making it out to be. ]
Do you mean to say there are other realms where people can just ... appear? Without rhyme or reason? [ Truly, she's realizing that the world was shockingly simpler when time travel was the most unbelievable thing that could happen. ]
So it seems The barrier between Faerun where I am from and Barovia is apparently quite thin under certain circumstances Not that we knew that then Returning was also not a simple task
[ It's a long story, but if Lucina is truly that curious Fern can try to explain more when they're face-to-face.
This sure is giving her typing practice, though. Not the worst thing, even if she might grumble about how inefficient it is. ]
Were you able to? Intentionally? [ She's heard the stories of people here disappearing just as quickly as they appeared. That sounds just as unpleasant as being brought here in the first place; but if it had been deliberate... ]
Not yet no It was something we were working toward But we would have to defeat a very powerful vampire first Which we were going to try and do before we arrived here
I've never known of a being who could control who such a thing. [ Grima destroyed everything she held dear — but he couldn't keep her from leaving or entering Ylisse. Even Naga could only transport her to a different point in time. ] You must be quite the fighter to be willing to stand against him.
[ That's quite the pointed question, though it's something that Fern has wondered about herself. Not that she expects it would be a simple choice, but she'll humor the inquiry. ]
I have thought about this I would want to return to Barovia We still have companions there possibly And I would like to finish what we started
Perhaps. But there are just as many who seem to have disappeared without a trace; there's a chance they were able to return to the world they hail from.
But there is also no knowing if they returned home when they vanished Something worse may have happened to them
[ Isn't it just as possible that they were simply lost somewhere between planes, their bodies disintegrated by some cosmic force, their essence pulled apart by the fact that they are not where they should be? ]
That argument could be made both ways, could it not? If something worse is possible, it's just as likely that they may have found a better version of their home. [ She's projecting. ]
[ There's a long(er) stretch of silence before the reply shows up. ] I'm afraid it's a bit of a long story. Perhaps the next time we meet, I can explain it to you. If you wish.
[ That does speak to something complicated, perhaps something difficult. Or maybe Lucina is simply tired of typing out these messages. Either way, Fern doesn't begrudge her. ]
Yes thats fine Until next time then
[ Whenever that is. She will admit she's curious as to what Lucina is getting at, if there truly is something to this idea of a "better version" of a world, or if it's only a dream. ]
[ While Arlecchino keeps a room for herself, she spends very little time in it, using it more for work and storage with only the occasional recuperating nap. So when she finally stops by again to drop off some freshly gathered (meat) fruit from a diffusion zone, she's offended to find the room sparsely fuzzed with mold. An unforgivable sin to one as dedicated to cleanliness as she. Perhaps this is a sign that she ought to look to upgrading her facilities... but for now, it's time to purge the room of its mold crimes.
Bleach is procured. The mold, extinguished. It takes time and doing, but soon her room is once again immaculate. She always finds a freshly clean scene satisfying, but this one puts her in an especially pleasant mood. It must be the sense of victory after overcoming a particularly stubborn foe. Riding that wave, she manipulates some of the (meat) fruit into a proper dish, and it too produces a satisfactory result. Wonderful.
But she has quite a bit of fruit left over, and she doesn't know how long it will stay good for -- especially with the mold possibly making a comeback. Best consume the fruit as soon as possible. What better way than by sharing with her neighbors? Such shows of goodwill are conducive to positive relationships. (She's normal and good at making friends like that.)
So she prepares a few more plates of food: roughly diced (meat) fruit tossed with roughly diced onions, pickles, and tasteful pepperings of sauces and seasonings. Topped with raw egg yolk and bedded on a slice of French (whatever that is) bread. A serviceable recreation of steak tartare as she knew it back home, she'd say.
Her immediate neighbors seem puzzled and slightly frightened by her offering. No matter. They'll enjoy it or they won't. Speaking of frightened people, she recalls Adrian, whom her Hitchhiker recently gutted. He's probably healed himself fully by now, but a bit more iron in the system never hurts after an injury. Thus, she makes her way to the room she recalls him staying at, a covered plate in hand like a vaguely threatening waiter.
[ Normally, Adrian would have been home at this hour. However, the clinic where he's been working in hopes of learning more about the goings-on there has taken advantage of his altruistic nature and called him in for an extra shift. It means that Fern has the motel room to herself tonight, as she has the day off from her own rather mundane place of work.
Naturally, both of them have been rather taken in by the television, even if what's on it usually makes little to no sense to her. She at least understands the basics of what it is now, which is ultimately entertainment. If there's anything that could count as "news," it never seems to be related to the Diadem itself, but some other farflung place.
In other words, it doesn't provide much other than background noise or a distraction most of the time, but Fern sometimes puts it on while she winds down for the evening. She tends to keep the volume low (she has no interest in some neighbor banging on the wall because the sound is bleeding through), so the knock at the door immediately grabs her attention with a swivel of her head (and ears) in that direction.
They're not expecting anyone. Adrian would have mentioned it if so, and never have they invited someone over. It's not as if this room is meant for hosting guests. Which means it must be something else — maybe even trouble.
Yet Fern doesn't feel like she has to be too suspicious. She slides off the bed and instead of calling through the door, simply opens it, at which point she's faced with a woman with striking features — especially those eyes.
More notable, though, is the plate she's holding. Fern can smell the raw meat, though it's clearly been dressed and prepared for consumption. She blinks at it a few times, trying to determine why a stranger would bring over food like this.
Eventually, she remembers to offer a greeting, though it's a flat one. ] ... Hello. [ Does she have the wrong room? ]
[ The person who answers the door is not Adrian, but The Knave does recognize this woman as an associate of his. What can she say, she likes to people-watch.
Thus she isn't overly surprised, only paying the unexpected face a second's extra consideration before responding cordially, if seriously. ]
Greetings. I am The Knave. Adrian is currently staying here, yes?
[ She asks, but it isn't a question. ]
If he hasn't managed to get himself killed in the scant time since I've seen him, then allow me to leave this for him. There is more than enough to share, if you'd like to partake as well.
[ She presents: the dish. Her movements are controlled and elegant, as if she were a server of fine dining — which makes it all the more incongruous when she uncovers the plate to reveal what appears to be a minor massacre. Lacking the tools for proper presentation, the unevenly cubed (meat) fruit mix is piled haphazardly, looking more like a savory salad on bread with a yolk hat on top. The flavor is fair enough though, if overly chunky steak tartare is your thing.
There is not one, but three of these things arranged on the plate. Generosity or unspoken criticism that Adrian needs more meat on his bones? That's anyone's guess. ]
[ Fern's face twitches for a moment as she processes that this woman must know about her and that Adrian even shared with her where they're staying. She's aware that Adrian is far more open with information about them and their whereabouts than she would normally be, which is a risk she must take on if they're going to continue to share the fees for these motel rooms they make use of every so often.
Normally, she might have shown further irritation and unease at being perceived in this way, but the food offering (and perhaps the spores in the room) help to smooth things over slightly. ]
... The Knave. [ Is that a title? She looks the stranger up and down again with a studying gaze. ] I assume you already know my name, then. [ She's not thrilled about it, to be honest.
Although the comment about Adrian getting himself killed draws far more of her attention. There's a knowingness to that tone, and more than that, Adrian has never mentioned this woman to her. It's odd, because he tends to tell her about most of the people who he interacts with via idle conversation here and there. So... why the omission? There must be a reason.
Then the food is revealed, and Fern isn't quite ready for what she sees next. She was expecting the raw meat, but the presentation leaves a bit to be desired. Not that she's much of a judge of such things, and so after a pause, she takes the plate. ]
I'll set it aside for him, though he usually isn't much of a meat-eater. [ You know, save for when the meat is the heart of a recently-deceased person. Nonetheless, they do have a little box that keeps things cold in the room, meaning that she can keep it for him until he returns and see if he wants any of it for himself.
Instead of leaving it at that, though, and shutting the door on the woman after thanking her, Fern can't help but ask: ] ... How do you two know one another?
[ Fern's studies will find The Knave immaculately presented, from her crisp formal clothing, to her precisely groomed hair and makeup, to the fresh floral scent about her. Everything about her is sharp — including the red-and-black nails that tip her blackened hands and her wicked stiletto heels. Her posture lacks true hostility, but it is confident, almost intensely so.
Adrian's companion is clearly a warier sort than he is — a fact The Knave finds interesting. "I assume you already know my name, then." Quite interesting indeed. Her lips spread mildly into a smile. ]
It would seem our dear friend Adrian is shyer than I thought. But no matter.
[ She's witnessed Adrian's earnest nature firsthand, and it sounds like his companion expects him to be forthcoming about a majority of things. Yet he's been withholding information about The Knave from her. Why? If Adrian is convinced of The Knave's decency, then there should be no reason for him to avoid mentioning her. How... fun. She crosses her arms and touches her cheek in an exaggeration of thought. ]
As it so happens, I first met him in passing. I chanced upon him in my travels only recently... Ah, but I'm afraid I'm not much of a storyteller. [ False. ] In short, we had a fleeting adventure together. I'm sure he'll do an admirable job regaling you with the details.
[ Have fun with that, Adrian. The Knave has no intention of getting entangled in whatever predicament he's accidentally laid for himself. She will, however, seize this small opportunity to vent. ]
But I must say that he's a bit more reckless than one would hope for. A constant concern, I imagine.
[ The woman's sharp, put-together look is certainly eye-catching. Fern would normally think she belonged to some branch of high society, but if that were the case, she wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near this motel. No, it seems to be more that she cares about how she presents herself to others, perhaps due to some position she held back home.
The answer that she gives about how she and Adrian met is frustratingly vague, and while Fern does wish that she could read between the lines a bit more, there doesn't seem to be much to find there (Insight: 11). Perhaps that's on purpose, as this woman would prefer she ask Adrian directly.
Well, Fern is perfectly fine with that. ]
... Yes, I'll be sure to ask him for the details when he returns. [ She's just turning back to cover up the plate of food and place it in the "mini fridge," as it's called, when there's that moment of venting which gives her pause. She looks back, still holding the plate. ]
... Then it seems you've had more than just a pleasant conversation with him. [ Not that it takes long to pick up on that particular character trait of Adrian's. ] Unfortunately, I don't think he'll be changing his ways any time soon, so if you do want to be his acquaintance, it's something you'll have to get used to.
[ But she sounds tired when she says this, rather than dismissive. Commiserating, even. ]
[ The Knave studies the woman's reaction. She looks like a long-suffering wife, but without apparent affection — clearly someone who's tied her fate to Adrian's long enough for their mismatched edges to dull against each other. It makes The Knave curious. ]
[ Fern is self-aware enough to realize that the way she and Adrian speak of each other and interact might be odd to an outsider. The bond between them was forged in the strangest of places, and has been tested multiple times besides through Adrian's less than wise choices.
Any uncertainty she might have felt about sharing more information with a complete stranger seems to be absent, though she'll only realize the oddity of that after the fact. With the food covered and safely stored away, Fern returns to the doorway where The Knave still stands. ]
We've been through a lot together. [ She also keeps it vague, for now. It seems only fair. ] ... Not here in Diadem, but before arriving here. When we realized we'd both been brought here, it felt only natural to continue to stick together.
[ As for his flaws being worth enduring, that's more difficult to speak on, or form any sort of opinion about without digging into relatively fresh wounds. So she leaves it at that. ]
Ah, compatriots from the same world. That does explain things. Even I've found myself maintaining ties with someone from my world that I otherwise wouldn't.
[ Not that there's anything wrong with Wriothesley. On the contrary, he's easy to get along with. Their jobs just didn't mesh very well with each other back home.
In any case, it's handy knowing that Adrian has someone he's irreversibly tied to... and doesn't want knowing about certain escapades. ]
I do hope this doesn't sound too forward of me, but would you be amenable to an exchanging of numbers? As you know, Adrian is the sort of person to get himself into unpredictable situations. Perhaps you'd be willing to serve as... an emergency contact of sorts.
[ Someone from her world? Fern hasn't heard of that many people who also have someone here from home with them, though the relationship sounds a bit more distant compared to what she has with Adrian.
It has occurred to her that they don't need to stay together like this, but it's become habit by now, and she prefers to be able to check in with him regularly. So it goes, for now, but she does wonder if it ever might change... If Adrian might someday decide he wants space from her.
At the question, though, Fern can't help but let out a huff of a breath that might be bordering on a laugh, if you squint. ]
Unpredictable situations. That's one way of putting it. [ But she nods, walking over to her large adventurer's pack in the corner of the room to dig out her phone. She still isn't all that used to having it on her at all times, so it's often tucked away there rather than in her pocket. ] So you expect you'll work with him again, at some point?
[ If this Knave hasn't yet decided that Adrian is more trouble than he's worth, then that says something about her as well. ]
"Expect" might be a strong word, but it wouldn't surprise me. Never mind my own intentions; Adrian is the sort of person you couldn't shake if you tried.
[ Just a gut feeling. She has a lot of those that end up being right.
She prepares the new contact page on her phone for the other woman to fill out whenever she's ready to take it. The phone is a little red thing, its soft buttons curiously pockmarked. (The keys are too small; The Knave is forced to peck at them with her pointed nails when she types.) ]
But I won't deny that he's talented. Certainly useful to have around.
[ The sort of person you couldn't shake. Yes, that might well be true. It's not like he's suggested that they go their separate ways yet, even though it's no longer as imperative that they remain together, as it had been in Barovia.
But that must mean that this Knave has made some sort of impression on Adrian, if she believes that he'll seek her out again. And get himself into trouble in the process.
She steps over, tilting her head when the phone is offered, but after a pause she takes it to type in her name and number. The keys are incredibly small, but with some effort she's able to get the correct string of letters and numbers in. ]
... You've seen some of his magic, then? [ Asked as she returns the phone. Well, that's some sort of clue. ] He is an adept warlock. [ She would never deny that. She's become quite used to expecting his support during a fight. ]
[ So there are magic-wielders where this Knave is from, then. That's one tidbit of information to keep in mind, though Fern also notes that it seems as if magic is not quite as robust in this woman's world. Interesting...
At what seems to be a joking comment, she raises an eyebrow and shakes her head. For all of Adrian's faults, this is not one she would necessarily put on him. He's never been the sort of person to yearn for fame or recognition. No, it was often quite the opposite. ]
While he's quite skilled, no, it's nothing like that. [ There's a small curve of her lips into a smile, and then she shrugs. ] The usage of magic is fairly common for us, and he's done a decent amount of expanding his collection of spells, as well as inheriting magical power from a patron.
[ Of the two of them, Adrian is perhaps the most overtly sentimental, but it hadn't taken very much coaxing at all for Fern to agree to have a nice dinner with him to ring in the new year. He's learning that the way to her heart is really through her stomach, and he's picked up a veritable feast's worth of takeout in accordance.
Covering much of their tiny table is an assortment of dumplings, noodles, and rice. It's a much welcome break from pizza or frozen dinners, or whatever they can trade for a hunk of car meat. They can store the leftovers now, Adrian reasons. They don't need to be concerned with leaving the room and losing access to the mini fridge.
Once Fern has settled into her own seat and helped herself, Adrian pours them both drinks. Neither of them are particularly fond of alcohol, so he had opted for a blush pink bottled juice instead.
Dinner is nothing unusual otherwise. Adrian asks after her day, then recounts some anecdotes about his own. There's a companionable lull in conversation before he says: ] It's difficult to believe that it's been nearly half the year already... The time has gone by so quickly.
[ He props his chin up on his hand, idly twisting a few remaining noodles around his chopsticks. ] Everyone I've spoken to is quite convinced that the best course of action is to assume that we won't be returning home.
[ There is something about the end of one year and the start of another to inspire a state of reflection and looking toward the future. That, at least, is nothing new. It isn't something they ever had to experience in Barovia (and for that, Fern is thankful), but now they're here. Further from home than they've ever been, it seems.
When Adrian broaches the subject, Fern can't say she's surprised. It's also been on her mind. She takes a moment to finish the dumpling she'd been chewing and take a sip of her drink, which also happens to give her a chance to think it all over.
Time really has gone by so quickly. Whereas in Barovia a single day could feel like a month, here the days seemed to fly by. People were living here, in a way they hadn't ever been in Barovia, instead trapped under the weight of Strahd's influence and control. Maybe that's why.
And as much as Fern would like to claim that she'd be ready to uproot herself and go home the moment that potentiality presented itself, that's not exactly true. She's met people here, people she would want to say farewells to. She has a strange bond with a man who she hadn't even known before coming to this place, one that baffles both of them. And she's paid off her loan, which both tightens and loosens her tether to Diadem. No more debt, but the motorcycle is hers.
She realizes she's gone quiet for too long, and clears her throat, her gaze settling on Adrian for a moment before she glances away to the television, which is at a low enough volume to not interrupt their conversation. ]
And they might be right. I've heard no word of any record of someone returning to where they came from. Those who vanish might go home... but they could just as well have ended up somewhere else.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text — mid-July, 125.
A few minutes later: ] I apologize, I sent the message earlier than I intended. Have you heard of the sale at the grocer's? They were trying to rid their stock of canned soup.
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I did not
Is there something wrong with the soup
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Oh. I'm not certain. All I've heard it that they received too much of one type. Lentils. [ ... ] I have yet to heard of anyone getting sick from it...
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I see
I will have to check if they still have any
Thank you
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Have you been well?
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[ But hmm, that question. Fern pauses as she realizes she's not entirely sure how she wants to answer. ]
I am fine
I just came back from a trip to some of the further zones
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Theres been a great deal of driving
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Did you have any companions with you?
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I would not bother with the zone in quadrant 4
Unlike the mall it had nothing of use
Only trouble
I did at the mall
I went with my companion Adrian
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[ There's a few minutes of silence between these two sets of messages; mostly because Lucina's a horrifically slow typer. It's especially noticeable when she starts typing longer messages, like so: ]
I met a man named Adrian just the other week in the space where the resort used to be. The resort turned into an overgrown forest just as we arrived! I had been warned it could happen, but it was another thing to experience it first hand. [ The definition of "arrived" being used very loosely, here; Adrian was stuck waist-down in the dirt because the pool had turned into solid ground. Lucina was just walking in. But embarrassing a man that's not even here is probably very rude, so. ]
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There was a deadly creature there
[ She doesn't really know how to describe it, especially over text message. She isn't going to even bother trying, unlike Lucina, who is doing her best.
What Lucina relates to her next, though, sounds awfully familiar. She doesn't think this is an instance of someone else sharing a name with Adrian, even though they did in fact encounter that back in Barovia. ]
I think it is the same Adrian
He told me a version of that story
[ Sans the embarrassing part... ]
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We met somewhat by chance
Due to some unfortunate luck we have been traveling together for over a month now
This is not our first time finding ourselves trapped in an unknown world
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Do you mean to say there are other realms where people can just ... appear? Without rhyme or reason? [ Truly, she's realizing that the world was shockingly simpler when time travel was the most unbelievable thing that could happen. ]
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The barrier between Faerun where I am from and Barovia is apparently quite thin under certain circumstances
Not that we knew that then
Returning was also not a simple task
[ It's a long story, but if Lucina is truly that curious Fern can try to explain more when they're face-to-face.
This sure is giving her typing practice, though. Not the worst thing, even if she might grumble about how inefficient it is. ]
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Were you able to? Intentionally? [ She's heard the stories of people here disappearing just as quickly as they appeared. That sounds just as unpleasant as being brought here in the first place; but if it had been deliberate... ]
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It was something we were working toward
But we would have to defeat a very powerful vampire first
Which we were going to try and do before we arrived here
[ Womp womp. ]
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He decides who enters and who leaves
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[ They quite literally stumbled into it, and now they've been stuck for well over a month. It's... almost laughable that it's now happened again. ]
We have yet to truly face him
And we spent some time gathering artifacts and weapons to use against him first
He is no small foe
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If you could leave here: would you want to return to your home? Or to Barovia?
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I have thought about this
I would want to return to Barovia
We still have companions there possibly
And I would like to finish what we started
[ AKA kill that vampire dead. ]
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Your companions at home are very lucky to have the both of you. I hope you can defeat him.
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To be honest I do not know if we will ever be able to return there
There are fluxdrifts who have been here for decades
[ Why hope for something so unlikely? ]
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Something worse may have happened to them
[ Isn't it just as possible that they were simply lost somewhere between planes, their bodies disintegrated by some cosmic force, their essence pulled apart by the fact that they are not where they should be? ]
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A better version
What do you mean
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Yes thats fine
Until next time then
[ Whenever that is. She will admit she's curious as to what Lucina is getting at, if there truly is something to this idea of a "better version" of a world, or if it's only a dream. ]
action; social mold...
Bleach is procured. The mold, extinguished. It takes time and doing, but soon her room is once again immaculate. She always finds a freshly clean scene satisfying, but this one puts her in an especially pleasant mood. It must be the sense of victory after overcoming a particularly stubborn foe. Riding that wave, she manipulates some of the (meat) fruit into a proper dish, and it too produces a satisfactory result. Wonderful.
But she has quite a bit of fruit left over, and she doesn't know how long it will stay good for -- especially with the mold possibly making a comeback. Best consume the fruit as soon as possible. What better way than by sharing with her neighbors? Such shows of goodwill are conducive to positive relationships. (She's normal and good at making friends like that.)
So she prepares a few more plates of food: roughly diced (meat) fruit tossed with roughly diced onions, pickles, and tasteful pepperings of sauces and seasonings. Topped with raw egg yolk and bedded on a slice of French (whatever that is) bread. A serviceable recreation of steak tartare as she knew it back home, she'd say.
Her immediate neighbors seem puzzled and slightly frightened by her offering. No matter. They'll enjoy it or they won't. Speaking of frightened people, she recalls Adrian, whom her Hitchhiker recently gutted. He's probably healed himself fully by now, but a bit more iron in the system never hurts after an injury. Thus, she makes her way to the room she recalls him staying at, a covered plate in hand like a vaguely threatening waiter.
She knocks on the door to the room, politely. ]
here we gooooo
Naturally, both of them have been rather taken in by the television, even if what's on it usually makes little to no sense to her. She at least understands the basics of what it is now, which is ultimately entertainment. If there's anything that could count as "news," it never seems to be related to the Diadem itself, but some other farflung place.
In other words, it doesn't provide much other than background noise or a distraction most of the time, but Fern sometimes puts it on while she winds down for the evening. She tends to keep the volume low (she has no interest in some neighbor banging on the wall because the sound is bleeding through), so the knock at the door immediately grabs her attention with a swivel of her head (and ears) in that direction.
They're not expecting anyone. Adrian would have mentioned it if so, and never have they invited someone over. It's not as if this room is meant for hosting guests. Which means it must be something else — maybe even trouble.
Yet Fern doesn't feel like she has to be too suspicious. She slides off the bed and instead of calling through the door, simply opens it, at which point she's faced with a woman with striking features — especially those eyes.
More notable, though, is the plate she's holding. Fern can smell the raw meat, though it's clearly been dressed and prepared for consumption. She blinks at it a few times, trying to determine why a stranger would bring over food like this.
Eventually, she remembers to offer a greeting, though it's a flat one. ] ... Hello. [ Does she have the wrong room? ]
PARTYYY
Thus she isn't overly surprised, only paying the unexpected face a second's extra consideration before responding cordially, if seriously. ]
Greetings. I am The Knave. Adrian is currently staying here, yes?
[ She asks, but it isn't a question. ]
If he hasn't managed to get himself killed in the scant time since I've seen him, then allow me to leave this for him. There is more than enough to share, if you'd like to partake as well.
[ She presents: the dish. Her movements are controlled and elegant, as if she were a server of fine dining — which makes it all the more incongruous when she uncovers the plate to reveal what appears to be a minor massacre. Lacking the tools for proper presentation, the unevenly cubed (meat) fruit mix is piled haphazardly, looking more like a savory salad on bread with a yolk hat on top. The flavor is fair enough though, if overly chunky steak tartare is your thing.
There is not one, but three of these things arranged on the plate. Generosity or unspoken criticism that Adrian needs more meat on his bones? That's anyone's guess. ]
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Normally, she might have shown further irritation and unease at being perceived in this way, but the food offering (and perhaps the spores in the room) help to smooth things over slightly. ]
... The Knave. [ Is that a title? She looks the stranger up and down again with a studying gaze. ] I assume you already know my name, then. [ She's not thrilled about it, to be honest.
Although the comment about Adrian getting himself killed draws far more of her attention. There's a knowingness to that tone, and more than that, Adrian has never mentioned this woman to her. It's odd, because he tends to tell her about most of the people who he interacts with via idle conversation here and there. So... why the omission? There must be a reason.
Then the food is revealed, and Fern isn't quite ready for what she sees next. She was expecting the raw meat, but the presentation leaves a bit to be desired. Not that she's much of a judge of such things, and so after a pause, she takes the plate. ]
I'll set it aside for him, though he usually isn't much of a meat-eater. [ You know, save for when the meat is the heart of a recently-deceased person. Nonetheless, they do have a little box that keeps things cold in the room, meaning that she can keep it for him until he returns and see if he wants any of it for himself.
Instead of leaving it at that, though, and shutting the door on the woman after thanking her, Fern can't help but ask: ] ... How do you two know one another?
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Adrian's companion is clearly a warier sort than he is — a fact The Knave finds interesting. "I assume you already know my name, then." Quite interesting indeed. Her lips spread mildly into a smile. ]
It would seem our dear friend Adrian is shyer than I thought. But no matter.
[ She's witnessed Adrian's earnest nature firsthand, and it sounds like his companion expects him to be forthcoming about a majority of things. Yet he's been withholding information about The Knave from her. Why? If Adrian is convinced of The Knave's decency, then there should be no reason for him to avoid mentioning her. How... fun. She crosses her arms and touches her cheek in an exaggeration of thought. ]
As it so happens, I first met him in passing. I chanced upon him in my travels only recently... Ah, but I'm afraid I'm not much of a storyteller. [ False. ] In short, we had a fleeting adventure together. I'm sure he'll do an admirable job regaling you with the details.
[ Have fun with that, Adrian. The Knave has no intention of getting entangled in whatever predicament he's accidentally laid for himself. She will, however, seize this small opportunity to vent. ]
But I must say that he's a bit more reckless than one would hope for. A constant concern, I imagine.
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The answer that she gives about how she and Adrian met is frustratingly vague, and while Fern does wish that she could read between the lines a bit more, there doesn't seem to be much to find there (Insight: 11). Perhaps that's on purpose, as this woman would prefer she ask Adrian directly.
Well, Fern is perfectly fine with that. ]
... Yes, I'll be sure to ask him for the details when he returns. [ She's just turning back to cover up the plate of food and place it in the "mini fridge," as it's called, when there's that moment of venting which gives her pause. She looks back, still holding the plate. ]
... Then it seems you've had more than just a pleasant conversation with him. [ Not that it takes long to pick up on that particular character trait of Adrian's. ] Unfortunately, I don't think he'll be changing his ways any time soon, so if you do want to be his acquaintance, it's something you'll have to get used to.
[ But she sounds tired when she says this, rather than dismissive. Commiserating, even. ]
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I did gather that he can be a bit stubborn.
[ There's a hint of a jest there. ]
Yet you seem to find his flaws worth enduring.
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Any uncertainty she might have felt about sharing more information with a complete stranger seems to be absent, though she'll only realize the oddity of that after the fact. With the food covered and safely stored away, Fern returns to the doorway where The Knave still stands. ]
We've been through a lot together. [ She also keeps it vague, for now. It seems only fair. ] ... Not here in Diadem, but before arriving here. When we realized we'd both been brought here, it felt only natural to continue to stick together.
[ As for his flaws being worth enduring, that's more difficult to speak on, or form any sort of opinion about without digging into relatively fresh wounds. So she leaves it at that. ]
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[ Not that there's anything wrong with Wriothesley. On the contrary, he's easy to get along with. Their jobs just didn't mesh very well with each other back home.
In any case, it's handy knowing that Adrian has someone he's irreversibly tied to... and doesn't want knowing about certain escapades. ]
I do hope this doesn't sound too forward of me, but would you be amenable to an exchanging of numbers? As you know, Adrian is the sort of person to get himself into unpredictable situations. Perhaps you'd be willing to serve as... an emergency contact of sorts.
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It has occurred to her that they don't need to stay together like this, but it's become habit by now, and she prefers to be able to check in with him regularly. So it goes, for now, but she does wonder if it ever might change... If Adrian might someday decide he wants space from her.
At the question, though, Fern can't help but let out a huff of a breath that might be bordering on a laugh, if you squint. ]
Unpredictable situations. That's one way of putting it. [ But she nods, walking over to her large adventurer's pack in the corner of the room to dig out her phone. She still isn't all that used to having it on her at all times, so it's often tucked away there rather than in her pocket. ] So you expect you'll work with him again, at some point?
[ If this Knave hasn't yet decided that Adrian is more trouble than he's worth, then that says something about her as well. ]
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[ Just a gut feeling. She has a lot of those that end up being right.
She prepares the new contact page on her phone for the other woman to fill out whenever she's ready to take it. The phone is a little red thing, its soft buttons curiously pockmarked. (The keys are too small; The Knave is forced to peck at them with her pointed nails when she types.) ]
But I won't deny that he's talented. Certainly useful to have around.
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But that must mean that this Knave has made some sort of impression on Adrian, if she believes that he'll seek her out again. And get himself into trouble in the process.
She steps over, tilting her head when the phone is offered, but after a pause she takes it to type in her name and number. The keys are incredibly small, but with some effort she's able to get the correct string of letters and numbers in. ]
... You've seen some of his magic, then? [ Asked as she returns the phone. Well, that's some sort of clue. ] He is an adept warlock. [ She would never deny that. She's become quite used to expecting his support during a fight. ]
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I have. His abilities are more versatile than I would normally see from magic-wielders of my world. There, he might be respected indeed for his skill.
[ Though his more powerful spells needing so much time to recover might put a damper on his perceived might... Half-joking, her tone lifts. ]
I don't suppose you'll tell me he was a renowned mage, famed throughout the land?
feel free to drop this if it's too old!
At what seems to be a joking comment, she raises an eyebrow and shakes her head. For all of Adrian's faults, this is not one she would necessarily put on him. He's never been the sort of person to yearn for fame or recognition. No, it was often quite the opposite. ]
While he's quite skilled, no, it's nothing like that. [ There's a small curve of her lips into a smile, and then she shrugs. ] The usage of magic is fairly common for us, and he's done a decent amount of expanding his collection of spells, as well as inheriting magical power from a patron.
early jan - new years dinner
Covering much of their tiny table is an assortment of dumplings, noodles, and rice. It's a much welcome break from pizza or frozen dinners, or whatever they can trade for a hunk of car meat. They can store the leftovers now, Adrian reasons. They don't need to be concerned with leaving the room and losing access to the mini fridge.
Once Fern has settled into her own seat and helped herself, Adrian pours them both drinks. Neither of them are particularly fond of alcohol, so he had opted for a blush pink bottled juice instead.
Dinner is nothing unusual otherwise. Adrian asks after her day, then recounts some anecdotes about his own. There's a companionable lull in conversation before he says: ] It's difficult to believe that it's been nearly half the year already... The time has gone by so quickly.
[ He props his chin up on his hand, idly twisting a few remaining noodles around his chopsticks. ] Everyone I've spoken to is quite convinced that the best course of action is to assume that we won't be returning home.
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When Adrian broaches the subject, Fern can't say she's surprised. It's also been on her mind. She takes a moment to finish the dumpling she'd been chewing and take a sip of her drink, which also happens to give her a chance to think it all over.
Time really has gone by so quickly. Whereas in Barovia a single day could feel like a month, here the days seemed to fly by. People were living here, in a way they hadn't ever been in Barovia, instead trapped under the weight of Strahd's influence and control. Maybe that's why.
And as much as Fern would like to claim that she'd be ready to uproot herself and go home the moment that potentiality presented itself, that's not exactly true. She's met people here, people she would want to say farewells to. She has a strange bond with a man who she hadn't even known before coming to this place, one that baffles both of them. And she's paid off her loan, which both tightens and loosens her tether to Diadem. No more debt, but the motorcycle is hers.
She realizes she's gone quiet for too long, and clears her throat, her gaze settling on Adrian for a moment before she glances away to the television, which is at a low enough volume to not interrupt their conversation. ]
And they might be right. I've heard no word of any record of someone returning to where they came from. Those who vanish might go home... but they could just as well have ended up somewhere else.
[ Or been turned to dust. ]