strangetrip | [GP/EP] Check-In Day

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[GP/EP] Check-In Day

Why Caroline had needed her to help with Check-In Day she hadn't bothered to say. Just, "you said you'd help," and when Regina protested she wasn't good with people, "aren't you a Queen or a Mayor or something?" complete with shooing gestures. While Regina found Caroline more exasperating the terrifying, she did have a point.

So Regina suited up--literally, gathered her files and folders, coffee mug, pens and pocketed the wooden carving of Henry/Roland Robin had made for her, then headed for the cafe. If, polished and politic and patently Busy, she didn't offer newcomers the brightest or warmest smile when they arrived, it was nevertheless confident and quite possibly reassuring.

Caroline did friendly. Regina...did knowledgeable and polite. Dot and Ignis had been asked to provide finger food on catering trays. The still-grieving Miss Pryde had been tasked with samovars of tea and coffee and ice chest of soda and beer. Caroline's welcome baskets sat on the table beside Regina's for easy access. And though she didn't when she was alone in the office, Regina spent the magic to fix her eyesight so she didn't put glasses between her and new arrivals.

Madame Mayor was in.

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By now, Yasmeen had developed a routine for check-in days that both allowed her to see if any friends or crew arrived without engaging with hysterical strangers. She'd found a relatively stable spot with a view of the road from a large flat rock ideal for sunning, and it was there more often than not when she wanted it to be.

It had been today, so she'd taken up her sentry position and watched as a somewhat larger number of new arrivals than normal emerged. One rather bedraggled young woman on a broom raised an eyebrow, but she seemed to have her situation under control so she went back to her book.

The pale one with the interesting markings, though... he'd come through with a drawn and bloodied sword, and had more blood streaming from his hamstrings. In Gotham, she'd have paid him little mind and let the caped crowd deal with it. Here, she did run the perimeters to keep the place secure, so she stood, pocketed the book, and loped out to the road.

"Hold," she called and approached in a loose-limbed walk, all the more dangerous for the nonchalance, and no less so for the bikini top worn in place of a more substantial garment and paired with denim shorts and tall boots.

Fenris took a few steps closer to the woman, and then stopped. He'd spent too much time around Isabela to think that a woman's clothing (or lack thereof) was any indication of threat level.

Still, it was beginning to occur to him that whatever had happened to bring him here was not normal. Which meant it could very well be magical in nature.

He put his hand on the hilt of his sword behind his back, though did not draw it.

"Tell me what has brought me to this place." His voice was low, even, but with a hint of danger.

Yasmeen's gaze tracked his hand to his weapon and then shifted back to his face. Her only expression was one of complete confidence that it would go very badly for him should he reach for that sword.

"You won't need that," she said with a firmness of tone that matched his for intensity. Hers was a voice that expected compliance at the best of times. A wounded, uncertain swordsman on approach to an inn full of people who didn't take kindly to strife could hardly be called the best of times.

"Neither can I tell you why you are here. I arrived in the same way and without my ship some five months ago."

Fenris looked at her for a long moment before removing his hand from his sword. He had no reason to believe her, but he also had no reason as of yet to think he was walking into a fight.

"Are there mages here?" he asked. For all he knew he'd be walking into some sanctuary for apostates.

"There are magic users." But as far as she knew, none of them specifically went by the title of 'mage'. "And non-magic users." Since she gathered from how he asked, it wouldn't be a good thing.

"If there's anyone you particular hope to encounter or not to encounter, you're out of luck and in luck respectively. Most everyone in the Inn comes from worlds very different from my own and likely yours as well."

"Different worlds," Fenris repeated. Then - "You mean I am no longer in Thedas?"

And yet, this was clearly not the Fade or anything similar.

"I do." At least as far as she knew this world wasn't called Thedas.

"I don't believe it has a name. It's something of an in-between. Up ahead, there is an Inn. No more than 45 people live there and all of us--" Excepting the staff that she didn't consider people in the same fashion. "--arrived as you did. The world has nothing else to it but the inn and the distance you can travel in 4 hours in any direction."

"... I see," said Fenris stiffly. Though he did not see, not really.

"And where do you come from then?"

Even now, Yasmeen had no need to consider that question. "I have no country but my ship, the Lady Corsair. We berthed last in Gotham."

A place which also had no meaning to Fenris.

She reminded him of Isabela already, perhaps it was the combination of little clothing and much self assurance. So when she mentioned a ship - "Were you a pirate?"

"I prefer the term profiteer," she countered. "Pirate has somewhat unsavory connotations, and while I have no objection to running weapons past a blockade, I prefer adventuring to smuggling."

He reminded her of no one, except perhaps Vax, and that only because of the ears.

The fact that she reminded him of Isabela did not make him trust her more. It was not as if Isabela was particularly trustworthy. But perhaps it did make him slightly more charitable towards her.

He knew also that he needed to think, and perhaps to explore on his own.

"There is an inn, you say," he said. "I suppose I should get a room there, for the time being."

"Yet another peculiarity. There will be a room reserved in your name. You needn't pay for it, or anything else while you're here."

Since he seemed inclined to head toward the Inn, she gestured down the road and turned to walk with him. He bled, and if there were few predators in this wilderness, there were not none.

Fenris said nothing, at first.

As they walked, his limp actually became less pronounced. Not because it was better, but because Fenris made a forceful effort to walk normally. He had an exceptionally high pain tolerance.

"I recognize that my appearance may not give the best first impression," he finally said. He was, after all, covered in blood. "But I was in the middle of battle with a group of slavers. I pose no threat to those who do not deserve it."

"I escort you as a courtesy, not out of concern for their well-being or yours. Many arrive in similar condition or worse. So much so that some imagine this to be a waystation between death and life."

Although he managed the walk well, Yasmeen kept her pace to a lazy, hip-swinging swagger. He might feel little pain, or ignore it well, but she saw no upside to further damaging the injured muscle. She glanced sidelong at him as they walked to say, "It is not, but those who have not known the inside of a cage may not recognize one when they see it."

Fenris had been about to say something else, but at the word cage his head whipped towards her. His expression was perhaps best described as alarmed, with an edge of anger to it.

"You think this is a cage?"

Ah. They had that in common then.

The fire of resistance lit her eyes and her voice. "We come and go as we please, but there is nowhere to go but here--" She gestured to the empty land. "My ship is not here, so I cannot fly. Last month a passage opened to somewhere else. I ran far and fast and when the passage closed, I was here again. What else would you call it?"

"It has to be magic," Fenris said, his voice cold.

"A cage is a cage. This one nets its birds indiscriminately. A sorcerous I traveled with in the world before this is every bit as trapped as I am." He clearly hated magic, which if his captors had possessed it, she understood.

"Understand, there are magic users in the Inn. But not one has used their magic to do anything but help."

Fenris had heard that before. Even Hawke, whom he respected perhaps more than anyone he'd ever known. But she had a blind spot when it came to mages, and how had the Abomination thanked her for it in the end? Mass murder.

"Magic corrupts," said Fenris curtly, but no more than that, for now. If there were mages here then they may start by doing good - but the quest for power always led them astray.

"And this cage must have been built by someone."

Yasmeen marked the suspicion and made a note to warn Regina to stay out of this one's way.

"The will to power corrupts. Magic, science, swords--" With a tip of her head to his in the scabbard at his back. "Are only tools. Did you or I wish to keep people as pets, I wager we would have no difficulty doing so for the lack of magic."

"Funny how we do not wish to," Fenris snapped fiercely. He knew that it wasn't as if Tevinter mages were the only ones to keep slaves, but the practice was so commonplace that it betrayed the evil down to the core of the race.

Before she could react, he took a breath. "Perhaps we should not speak of such things. Take me where I should go."

"Perhaps not." If her tone remained level, there could be no mistaking it for placid. "But before we agree not to talk about it, I would have you know, I will tolerate none being enslaved, no matter who wields the whip."

And with that, she fell silent and continued along the road to the hotel.

Perhaps Fenris had said too much. But then, he had never taken much care with hiding his emotions - at least, the ones on the side of anger.

He walked with her, until they reached the inn, and he looked a bit alarmed when stepping inside. It was not like an inn he'd ever seen. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was so different about how it was appointed, but it was very different.

Not the type to brood or nurse a grudge over true words, powerfully felt, Yasmeen flicked a small, feral smile his way when they entered the inn. He looked just this side of poleaxed.

"You get used to it." For the most part, anyhow. "Enforced stay aside, the accommodations are comfortable. Peculiar, but comfortable."

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