timeskip ;; eachdraidh

[extramural]

THE OUTSIDER COURT Unseelie. TITLE Seaspeaker, Giftgiver. OCCUPATION God. ABLE TO FAST-TRAVEL Yes, to seaside locations at night and for the night only. RESIDENCE IN 2,701 A small ship, Lumina's manse. RESIDENCE IN 2,702 A small ship, Lumina's manse. MAJOR EVENTS THE VOID WALKER During the Roc's deepfreeze, the Outsider obtains a ship. [ ✖ ] HIGHLIGHT Description [ ✖ ] HIGHLIGHT Description [ ✖ ]

PLANS The Outsider will spend the timeskip immersing himself in the ocean culture of the Drabwurld and building his base of worshipers. He may or may not sire a new terrifying race of sea beings with Ceit the Siren. With Caer Scima destroyed, he will move out entirely, moving what few possessions he has to a small ship that can sail both the oceans and rivers. He will spend most of the year traveling on his ship, taking in the sighs of the Drabwurld and attempting to learn more about it. TIMELINE OF EVENTS SPRING IN 2,701 (Mar, Apr, May) MARCH - The new King of Birds, the Roc, brings late snowstorms across the drabwurld; shardbearers must combat its magic to un-freeze each other, natives, and whole areas. The Outsider uses his fire magic nightly, thanks to the gem in the Drowned Crown, to thaw out bits and pieces of the world. During this, he locates a small ship frozen entirely, captain dead and crew gone. After laying the captain's soul to rest, he takes the ship for himself. APRIL- Shardbearers shall be struck at various moments by the sound of harp-playing which inspires distractingly, disablingly intense and wild emotions, but be unable to determine the source! Shardbearers will discover that they can follow the sound only in their dreams to the dream-image of a harp which magically plays itself. Smashing the harp in their dreams will disable the spell which affects their waking moments. Unused to having most emotions, much less strong ones, the Outsider has a difficult time handling this event. He laughs, cries, and lashes out only to become incredibly distressed at his lack of control. A rendezvous with Ceit the Siren leaves him so worn out that he sleeps on his own for the first time in several thousand years, smashing the harp in his dream; still, the experience has marked him. MAY - Golden swans will migrate to the mainland from the southern coast, devouring newly-planted crops and seeds; slaying them turns them into solid gold swan figurines. The Maidenfish and wolfhounds are quite happy to hunt and kill the swans, and the Outsider is quite intrigued by the magic that occurs when they're killed. He collects the figurines and stores them on his boat. SUMMER IN 2,701 (Jun, Jul, Aug) JUNE - Lumina comes for a boat trip; the pair go whale watching. JULY - Whale-watching trip with Lumina ends. AUGUST - Laethann's Festival of Lights is the second week in August, a curious local celebration timed to the arrival of fireflies which will this year mark the induction of the new Oracle; overnight the boats which comprise the Water Market all seem to have vanished, and natives float candles on the river out to sea and let paper lanterns fly, while in the distance the Tower of the Oracle glows golden through day and night. The Outsider visits Leathann, sometimes frolicking as as a whale under the floating lanterns. FALL IN 2,701 (Sept, Oct, Nov) SEPTEMBER - The magical power which allows shardbearers to understand Drabbish and each other goes haywire; affected characters will be heard speaking their native tongue! All their writing, however, will still be seen as Drabbish. Time to learn languages. OCTOBER - October 25-30th: SAMHAIN! Sun does not rise; characters can go wherever they please; Black Shuck makes another appearance; giant party on the Cathraon. The Outsider leaves an offering for the Shuck for the second year in a row. This year the Maidenfish help him with a costume; he arrives shirtless, wearing a necklace of shark teeth and with swirled designs painted over his torso and arms. His mask is made of small shells. NOVEMBER- Inmates from a magical island prison-colony of Laethann have escaped, and some manage to reach the mainland and begin causing havoc! The government of Laethann posts rewards for the return of these criminals, dead or alive. Many are legitimately dangerous mages and sorcerers; others are simply individuals who are debtors to the state and couldn't pay their taxes! Some of the escaped prisoners attempt to take the Outsider's boat by force. It does not go well for them. WINTER IN 2,701/2,702 (Dec, Jan, Feb) DECEMBER - YULE! The Outsider still does not understand Yule presents, but a few special CR mates may get bone charms. JANUARY - Caer Scima is at last entirely rebuilt, and grander than ever! The Outsider visits to see if they've gotten any new books. FEBRUARY - Possibly still reading at Caer Scima. Oops. SPRING IN 2,702 (Mar, Apr) MARCH - The skeletons of unburied soldiers killed in battle begin to rise, devouring whatever living beasts or people they come upon until their skulls are struck off. The Outsider assists in defeating these skeletons and laying their souls to rest using what he was taught by Lady Red-Hand. APRIL - Great numbers of imps and fairies begin to go missing in both castles, to the point where many everyday tasks go unfinished! ... probably doesn't even notice. MAY - Unearthly black-eyed young children begin appearing at various coastal locations in the Drabwurld after hatching in spring. They pretend to be lost or drowning in currents, crying out for help... but inevitably attempt to drown and eat their would-be rescuers -- unless those rescuers have a history respecting the ocean and the life within it, in which case they are given bone tokens charmed for luck. Aw, look at his kids!

( codes by whambam )

Comments

MARCH | THE ROC'S DEEPFREEZE

[extramural]

[ The sudden snow and ice is exceptionally irritating. The Maidenfish hate it, refusing to leave Lumina's manor to venture outside; he can't quite say that he blames them. The wolfhounds love it, frolicking and chasing each other, tumbling down mounds of snow and snapping at snowflakes. It's amusing enough to watch for a while, but then the Outsider rouses himself; the snow is not meant to be here, and while he doesn't mind its presence really, he is irritated that it's getting everyone all in a fuss -- and he's irritated that the water life is having to deal with it.

At night, he dons the Drowned Crown and goes to the beaches. The red gem set inside of it allows him to summon and control fire, and he has always been good at magic. The flames are used to belt ice from the beaches, to thaw out the seaweed that so many creatures need to eat or hide in. Bonfires are left on the beach for residents and people passing through, though they're often claimed by cold mermaids and selkies before others can get there.

He travels between his shrines as well, thawing them out first and leaving small fires lit to keep them warm. Travelers begin to find them, spending their nights near the warmth. He moves on, travels along the rivers and melts the ice, naiads waving at him as they wake. It is along one of the rivers, deep in the woods where no one has disturbed the fresh snow, that he finds the ship. It is covered in ice; there are tracks in the opposite direction belonging to its small crew, marks where they stumbled and fell. Without fire, they would not have survived, but the tracks are old; he does not follow. He thaws out the ship instead and then boards, fingers trailing along the wood, working ice out of frozen sails and oars. He had not expected to find the captain frozen in his cabin, but he does nonetheless. The Outsider thaws his eyes enough to close them, murmurs the words that Lady Red-Hand had once taught him, and carries him out. He is burned on the riverbank as the Outsider asks the Shuck to guide his soul, and then the Outsider boards the ship.

There are more places that are frozen, after all, and he travels faster over water. ]

I SAID I'D TAG YOU SO HERE I AM

[cockade]

[Perhaps one of the most difficult things Arno has come to face in his sudden arrival here is how quickly things change. He's no stranger to change itself- his entire life is focused on changing what he can to fix all the problems of his past. But the changes of revolution differ vastly from the changes found in a world full of magic, and the Frenchman struggles, at times, to comprehend everything.

The sudden arrival of winter does nothing to comfort him, only make him wary as time progresses. Being at the Ninth Spire, he can only do so much to keep the residents and refugees warm, and the longer they suffer, the more impatient he gets. So he dons warmer clothes, takes some supplies with him and rides out into the wilderness by the sea, looking for answers.

He comes across the Outsider as he lights another seaside bonfire, unaware of the mermaids or selkies who will be coming shortly to try and hog all the warmth. He's journeyed by a few, but only after the embers have long since burned out, diminished by the cold water and weather aound him. Arno leaves some space between them, sliding off his horse, breath forming puffs of steam in the cool air. The blaze of the fire is about all he hears before he speaks.]

Are you the one who leaves these behind for others?

[The answer is clear enough, but Arno was never one to not point out the obvious.]

HURRAY 8DDD FINALLY CR AGAIN

[extramural]

[ The sound of hoofbeats is not as usual along the beaches, especially not when it's this cold. Putting the finishing touches on his bonfire, mostly by using magic to pull the sand back and form a little pit, the Outsider doesn't answer for a moment. He's not going anywhere, after all, and human manners... well, he's seen them a lot. He doesn't entirely understand them, though, not does he see why he should necessarily care. With those he now considers friends he tries to make an effort, but his work now is important.

When he turns, Arno might notice that he's levitating a few inches off the sand. ]

I imagine I am not the only one who does so. But I have left several, yes. Including this one.

[ Obviously. Of course, he isn't certain of how much Arno saw -- the man could simply think he's another traveler seeking out warmth. ]

And who are you?

this is late forever I HATE BEING SICK

[cockade]

[The levitation doesn't go unnoticed, but for once, Arno doesn't blatantly point it out. At least, not right away. There is a headtilt at first, as he tries to think of where else he's seen bonfires recently.]

Of course. I've had to set at least one every night, before coming across these. [A pause.] France unfortunately was never one for cold extremes such as this. I'm afraid we'd have even more trouble on our hands if that were the case.

[When asked about his name, the Frenchman doesn't pause, but does decide to look over the Outsider again.] Arno. Arno Dorian. [His sight paints the other as a neutral base, brushing away the instant thought of perhaps mistakenly running into the opposite side.] You're not one of the Seelie, are you.

I KNOW THE FEELING BB

[extramural]

I have not heard of France, but that is not uncommon.

[ Different worlds, after all. Arno certainly isn't from his world, so he isn't surprised. Still, he has found it best to clear up that he's not from the usual world most people appear to have some familiarity with, some recognizable traits. ]

The Outsider, [ he replies, well aware that it may sound like an answer to the second question as well. He pauses for a somewhat significant length of time anyway. ] I was brought here by the Unseelie court.

BOOTS SICKNESS TO THE MOON

[cockade]

As I'm discovering. Some people have even thought I've come from a place I've never heard of.

[Being asked if he comes from Orlais is kind of getting old now, thanks Dragon Age cast.

The pause that the Outsider gives Arno is not a comfortable one. It stretches across the both of them like a thin and poorly used silence, awkward and long in its wake. The Frenchman tilts his head again, almost goes to break the quiet, and then the other speaks.]

Yes, well. I can see that. [A snort, because his sight proved that to him a while ago.] Do you greet everyone like this while somewhat floating in the air, or am I just a special case?

THEN BLOWS UP THE MOON

[extramural]

[ You asked, Arno. You asked the man lurking around the beach in the dark while levitating. This is your own fault. ]

I do not touch the ground much.

[ It's boring. ]

And how do you see it? And if you do -- then why ask?

Middle of March!

[raavashing]

[Wan found the shrine along the southern edge of La Llorona. It was an odd thing to him. He was used to shrines being made to honor the ancestors. Usually with incense sticks and a painting of the person, or the names of many written in fine calligraphy. Often times set on a simple table, though he suspected (but had never seen) the more well-to-do humans of the Lion Turtle City had more ostentatious displays. So while the shrine had elements he associated with a shrine: a table, a place to burn something, a picture (sort-of), that was where the similarities ended and it left Wan wondering what the display was for.

Sticks had been bundled and tied together with sturdy strings to form 'logs'. Three had been laid together and bound again to form the flat of the 'table' of the shrine with an actual log split three ways to form a sturdy set of legs. There was a flat rock with a shallow stone bowl on it set to the front of the table and an odd 'picture' made mostly of bird skulls and wing bones tied to a 'weave' of threads set into a stick and string frame.

And on top of being strange, it seemed to be set up in the middle of nowhere. The people of Azure didn't generally go as far south as Wan had gone and the road was no where near the shrine. The closest landmark was probably the river that flowed south and fed Loch Noa several days down stream. And even then, that was a good half-day's walk from the shrine.

It was enough to make Wan curious and willing to stick around it for a day. He set up camp across from it, a simple oiled cloth tarp to keep the snow off during the night and his bedroll on the ground beneath it after he cleared it of snow. He was curled up there, nearly asleep, when he realized he wasn't alone anymore. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up and tried to make out who was there.]

Hello? Is this yours?

[extramural]

[ The voice that responds from the darkness is perhaps not comforting, but it is familiar. ]

Hello, Wan.

[ The Outsider sounds just as monotonous as he had back in Caer Scima. If he is cold, there isn't any sign of it in his voice; no teeth chattering, no slight tremble. He does not move from his place in the darkness, hands behind his back as he looks at the shrine. Unlike at Caer Scima, he is alone; the four Maidenfish and two wolfhounds are nowhere to be seen, even if the sun were to rise at that very moment. ]

Keeping warm? The King of Birds does seem rather intent on forcing all to freeze. For what, I wonder?

[raavashing]

[He was groggy, but aware enough to make sense of the questions he was being asked. He didn't shiver like many would, despite the light blanket and otherwise threadbare clothes - the same exact ones he'd been wearing at the feast where two met. Though he did have benefit of two new pieces he'd gained when the castle inhabitants had been giving things away: a pair of simple black flats (dressing slippers) and a new fur lined coat. The latter of which was probably the most expensive thing he'd ever owned. And though he was clearly dressed warmly, he really wasn't dressed warmly enough for the elements as they currently were.

Wan rubbed at his eyes to get the sleep out of them as he sat up, legs crossed beneath him, still comfortably in his make-shift bed.]

'm fine. I've never heard of the King of Birds. Is this winter it's doing? I thought it was just a oddly cold second winter.

[Because those did happen in his world to areas far enough north or south.

After a moment, Wan became aware enough to offer:]

Do you want me to start a fire?

[The Outsider didn't look cold, but it was second nature for Wan to offer.]

[extramural]

Yes. You may have noticed the distress among the birds on the first, when the cold began. That was its doing.

[ It happened in his own world as well; March was hardly a strange time for snow and cold. Still, this cold was unnatural. No other cold winters could freeze a being solid and expect them to still live when they were thawed. ]

No need, [ he says after a moment, referring to the offer of the fire. Reaching into his coat, which (despite possibly being the only item of outwear the god wears) shows no wear or tear, the god pulls out an old iron circlet. In one of the spaces on it sits a red gem, winking in the low light of the moon and stars that reflects off the snow.

Setting the Drowned Crown upon his head, the Outsider hums thoughtfully and withdraws a hand from his back. He opens his palm, leaves it flat, and watches as fire springs up and sits in his hand. ]

Wood or other things to burn, however, would be of assistance. Even the wild creatures of the forest do not fear fire on these nights, not in this cold.

[raavashing]

[The only surprise Wan showed was that the Outsider apparently felt the need to put a crown on his head before drawing forth the element of fire. But if that's how he did it, that's how he did it. Wan shrugged and stood up, leaving his blanket on his bed.]

I can go find some. Give me a minute.

[He said it even as he was walking off. A flame of his own lighting up over the palm of his right hand to give himself a light to see by while the snow under his feet actually melted in the wake of his steps. He ended up taking several minutes, about ten, to gather an armful of still wet sticks of decent size. He wasn't worried about drying them out and the Outsider's flame was enough light to guide him back when he had to put his own out to hold the wood.

Wan yawned as he set the pile down in the middle of the small clearing, then melted the snow away with a few waves of his arms. The water in the wood came out as well. Most of it, anyway. With another yawn, he gestured for the Outsider to light it as his leisure.]

I was wondering what was wrong with the birds. Usually they don't act so strangely.

[extramural]

[ He has time. While Wan searches for wood, the Outsider examines the shrine. Snow is cleared off of it carefully, pushes out to create an indentation around the base. Small animals may find shelter beneath it now. Through it all, the flame doesn't go out.

When Wan returns, casually displaying his power to manipulate the snow, the Outsider lights the wood. It will smoke, but that is good; any traveling through here will need the fire, and he is rather certain that Wan can handle himself should any bandits come calling. ]

Do you speak to them?

[ He would assume yes, but one never knows. He highly doubts, in any case, that the birds stopped to speak with Wan as the Roc traveled. ]

[arla]

[ This isn't the first time Nasrin Lavellan has found herself in the bitter cold and storming winter. But that time was a mere few hours in the darkness compared to the days and days of snow, never ending and hurting so many. With the Station gone, Lavellan tries to help the refugees stay out of the cold by pitching camps and tents with them while they move to alternative lodgings, encouraging them to head to Mair if they can and to the Cothromach or the White Citadel if not. But there are too many of them and most are not equipped to handle the travel. She offers to take some of them to Nimh Gleanne, despite the lack of lodging, fire magic thawing the path and keeping people warm as well as she might dare. Her mana pool is not endless, after all.

It is a few days into her journey and close to nightfall when she goes to track their progress and finds the (mostly) frozen river, a vastness of black in the darkness. Here, fire springs to her fingertips, warming both her and the land around her and beneath, thawing slowly - far too slowly - as she tries to thaw just a portion of the water.

The naiads seem pleased enough to coo their thanks and Lavellan responds with a shivering, chilled smile, lips cracked at the seams from the cold. There is only the light of her fires and the green glow of the mark to guide her and the silence is deafening. But it's then that she realizes there is a shape in the dark, a ship she did not see for all of the blackness, and she staggers her way through the snow to get a better look at the vessel. It does not appear trapped, surprisingly, though there is ice threatening to choke it. Something keeps it at bay, either the ship or something else.

Lifting her hand, green and red coloring the night, she calls out: ]

Is someone out there?

[extramural]

[ All is silent for a long moment, save for the creaking of the boards that make up the ship and the slow, soft crackling of ice. The naiads do not seem bothered by the presence of this ship, though they move out of its way into parts of the river where it will not pass -- deep waters and shallows it cannot touch. There is no answer until the bark of a dog sounds from the ship, an alert responding to her call and the seeming disinterest of its master.

Back through the darkness comes a voice, slow and steady. ]

There are always things in the dark places. That is especially true in this world.

[ The ship slows, turns. There is a splash from one side, something heavy having hit the water -- the drop of the anchor. And then there is a man, or a thing shaped like a man, appearing quite suddenly along its side and leaning over the railing to look at her. ]

You are marked, though I do not know by what. Of all the beings in this world, you should have seen dark things.

[ That was the way of those chosen. They were picked and their lives had higher highs and lower lows, brighter lights and gripping, terrible darkness. ]

Would you like to come aboard? I will not harm you.

[ As if to punctuate this thought, there is another bark, and then a small dog shape can be seen scrambling up to the figure. Either the dog is a small breed or it's a pup; in the dark, it can be hard to differentiate. ]

[arla]

[ For all the distance between them, Lavellan is surprised she can hear his voice so clearly. She approaches the edge where ice meets the open water, taking great care not to choose any section of white that might crack beneath her feet, and casts her gaze upwards to the boat railing and at the man who appears there without warning. ]

How can you--

[ Is it so obvious? No one else had called attention to it before in the Drabwurld. She peers upwards, braced in the cold, and watches his silhouette. ]

I have seen them. I am no stranger to things unknown in the dark. But I am not so familiar with the creatures native to this place as others are.

[ The admittance is honest, gentle, and she is surprised to hear his offer in return. She should be cautious, having helped to ward her clan from demons and old legends alike, but she has always been too curious for her own good. Lavellan steps closer, holds the fire aloft in her hand. Admittedly, she might be more intimidated if not for the small dog barking in the night. She decides to take her chances. ]

I would, if you permit me.

[extramural]

[ How? Because his own mark burns blue and orange and black on the back of someone else's hand, on other body parts on other people. Perhaps it was more assumption than knowledge, but it is quite amazing how often the two are confused for the other. The Outsider was correct, and for him, that is what matters at the moment -- just as if finding out more would have been what mattered had he been wrong. ]

Know, then, that many will hunt you. Though perhaps not this night, with this cold and your efforts to warm others. The naiads, at least, may help you as you have helped them.

[ The dog barks again, dashing across the ship; she is growing rather excited at the presence of a stranger, though as soon as Lavellan is on board her excitement will change to fierce protectiveness over her human. Ah, well. He said he would not harm her; he makes no promises for the most ferocious of his two pups. ]

I am not creature of this world, though.

[ As if that is meant to be reassuring. Perhaps it is. Either way, the Outsider waves a hand and pulls the up and off the side of the ship with magic. It hits the shore near the elf, thudding softly in the snow and frozen mud. ]

To help them further, you will need to warm up more. Even your fire can be snuffed out by the winter of the Roc; come aboard, get out of the wind. We will speak.

[arla]

Of that, I have little doubt.

[ The Anchor is permanent. She might close every rift in Thedas and ensure the Breach will never be reopened, but the mark will remain for the rest of her days. Whatever it means, whatever it holds, she is certain there will be others looking to claim it for themselves. When the Inquisition lays down its arms and sheathes its sword, she will not have the safety and protection of her banner. She is prepared for that.

But she is not prepared for a land so unknown to her, with its own creatures and monsters, shadows and secrets, the way she is armed in Thedas. He is right about that in every way. ]

If you are not a creature of this world, then are you telling me to trust your word?

[ She should question it, at the least, but for the moment she wishes to believe what he has said, that he will not harm her and that she can have a moment's respite from the wind and cold. When he offers a way up to the deck, she takes it, feet testing the wood for a moment before taking careful steps upwards.

The ship is impressive once she is close enough to examine it, the fire in her hand dimming as she draws closer, containing her power that she might not present as a threat to the wood. When her feet touch the deck and she is able to take stock of her surroundings, she is finally able to get a good look at the two small pups she heard before...and the 'man' standing there, acting captain to the vessel. This close, she can feel something, a shimmer of power or magic, indelibly familiar in a way she cannot describe for the moment. His eyes, unfathomably dark, surprise her.

That does not, however, stop her from offering a respectful nod that can be mistaken for a short bow. ]

You have my thanks for the reprieve from the wind. This weather is enough to kill most people.

[extramural]

What you trust and distrust is your choice. But I rarely make promises; those that I do make, I intend to keep.

[ He is different in this world and he knows it, but very few others do. He would have done nothing once, would have let her freeze in the cold. He would not have this ship, these dogs, anything but far more power and a realm outside of the waking world. But this is not his world, just as it is not hers.

The smaller of the two dogs whines, unhappy about the presence of the stranger. The larger, though they're of the same breed, growls; the Outsider soothes her with a whispered word, though she still looks at the newcomer with clear distrust. This close, he can feel magic: her own and something other, something older, from the mark on her hand. ]

This weather has killed people, [ he says, but it's an agreement. When she is on board, he Pulls the gangplank back up. It is left within reach; she is free to go whenever she wishes. He simply doesn't want others joining them uninvited. ]

There are stores of tea and such in the galley, should you wish some. I am afraid you will have to make it yourself; I am rather unskilled in it.

[ Mostly because he doesn't eat or drink. ]

late-ass march, 9th spire

[gehennawind]

[What Paloma knows of religion is that there is at least one god, and that god has decided she is going to Hell.

Which follows that there is a Hell, full of what she isn't certain, but there must be a great many souls like hers trapped there in the fires. To meet Final Death is to join them and, presumably, burn.

The undead crouches on the pebbles, arms wrapped under her knees and bare feet flattened to the shore. It's a couple hours till dawn. She can't wander too far away from the spire this late (early), but the beach is always close, so out she has come in the faded violet dress with its ragged hem she's taken to day-sleeping in. Since the flight from Caer Scima, the once-gorgeous fabric isn't pretty enough for anything else. And she's under the impression nobody is around to watch her watching this shrine with its bones and odd smells, questioning what kind of god it was built to.

With one light touch and her eyes reflecting firelight, Paloma traces the curvature of a charm.]

[extramural]

[ The idea of the world ending in fire is one that the Outsider has not heard until he had arrived in the Drabwurld. It makes him laugh, for that may be how it is foretold to be in other worlds, but in this world and his own it is a far more dangerous foe: the Void, creeping and crawling, hungry and greedy. In his world, they say it will bubble up from the depths of the ocean and ooze down from among the stars. In this world, they can see it when they sail too close to the edges of the ever shrinking map.

He does not fear the end; not his own and not that of all worlds. But he will try to prolong it, if only because it interests him to do so, that there are those fighting for and against such a thing. And he will come when he is called in this world like he would not in his own, because there is always something new to learn.

Paloma does not mean to summon him. That matters little. When she lifts her finger from the charm, the air will seem eerily still until it is broken by a low, nearly expressionless voice. ]

Hello. Are you not cold?

[gehennawind]

[Paloma does not think of how it's supposed to be highly improbable for anyone to have the ability to... appear in front of her without any warning. That would require more than the kneejerk animal fear of her reflex, shooting inhumanly quick to her feet. One moment she's kneeling and the next she simply isn't.

She's gone a bit bug-eyed, but stands her ground. Fleeing would be unacceptable.]

Cold? No... no. [Without a pulse to slow, clear thinking happens sooner than later after the initial shock.] No. I'm dead. Umm, we haven't met, have we?

[extramural]

[ Fast and dead. The Outsider does not move save to tilt his head, studying Paloma as if she is a particularly fascinating piece of art work and not someone who had jerked up in surprise at his appearance. ]

No, I do not believe we have.

[ She is certainly not of his world, and he does not know of her. In truth, those are the only things that the Outsider needs to say that he's met someone. Whether they say the same is hardly his concern. ]

But this is a shrine to me.

[gehennawind]

[He smells like nothing else and nobody else she's ever encountered. Not enough time to figure it out before he answers the unspoken question ("what are you") in referencing his shrine. Paloma stares at it, then the bone charm, and then at her hand in horror.]

Oh, God! I-I meant no disrespect!

[extramural]

[ "Oh, God" indeed. Still, the Outsider at least doesn't seem too bothered. There's actually a slight chuckle. ]

None has been taken. Though perhaps you should consider it a lesson: you never know what you might summon at shrines such as these.

[ Free advice. He's such a nice deity. ]

Are you staying with the Brucolac?