Neve Gallus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nevegallus) wrote2025-08-05 06:14 pm
nevegallus) wrote2025-08-05 06:14 pm
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There’s a private little cove not far from the boardwalk that Neve’s found she really likes to spend time in. The sound of the surf against the rocks, the gulls wheeling and crying overhead, the tidepools that positively reek of low tide no matter the time of day… it all reminds Neve a little of Docktown in a way that makes her heart ache.
It’s evening, low tide slowly rolling its way back to high tide, and Neve has a towel and a bag further up the beach that she’s left behind as she walks. She’s wearing a teal two-piece and a gauzy gold sarong that’s whipping around her legs in the wind as she paces. Sometimes, she can imagine a fish fry on a dock, down by that stretch of rocks that serve as both tide break and borderline. Sometimes, she imagines the Tevinter ships in easing their way close with whatever haul is on deck.
Sometimes, like now, she just goes there to think. She’s got a handful of smooth rocks and she’s skipping them every few steps, before the water draws the sand out from under her feet and she moves on to avoid having her metal leg tugged clean off. Enchantment or no, that would probably smart.
She skips a stone, trying to find the connection between First Darrow and Second Darrow. There are gaps all over the place, she knows, doorways leading from one to the other but not necessarily back again. But there have to be connections that stay open, surely. Otherwise, how are creatures getting through? How are people passing into Second Darrow? She’ll need to look into it, of course. Find people who have gone and come back, find out where they were when it happened, make connections. She’s gotten a few interviews so far, but it’s difficult. So many of the reports are behind the red tape of the precincts here — honestly they’re worse than Templars.
Her pacing has taken her close to the tide break, so she ducks around one of the rocks while the tide is still low enough to manage. Every now and then she tries to find a vacant shell she can bring back to her apartment so she can refresh the beachy, seasalt smell she loves so much.
It’s evening, low tide slowly rolling its way back to high tide, and Neve has a towel and a bag further up the beach that she’s left behind as she walks. She’s wearing a teal two-piece and a gauzy gold sarong that’s whipping around her legs in the wind as she paces. Sometimes, she can imagine a fish fry on a dock, down by that stretch of rocks that serve as both tide break and borderline. Sometimes, she imagines the Tevinter ships in easing their way close with whatever haul is on deck.
Sometimes, like now, she just goes there to think. She’s got a handful of smooth rocks and she’s skipping them every few steps, before the water draws the sand out from under her feet and she moves on to avoid having her metal leg tugged clean off. Enchantment or no, that would probably smart.
She skips a stone, trying to find the connection between First Darrow and Second Darrow. There are gaps all over the place, she knows, doorways leading from one to the other but not necessarily back again. But there have to be connections that stay open, surely. Otherwise, how are creatures getting through? How are people passing into Second Darrow? She’ll need to look into it, of course. Find people who have gone and come back, find out where they were when it happened, make connections. She’s gotten a few interviews so far, but it’s difficult. So many of the reports are behind the red tape of the precincts here — honestly they’re worse than Templars.
Her pacing has taken her close to the tide break, so she ducks around one of the rocks while the tide is still low enough to manage. Every now and then she tries to find a vacant shell she can bring back to her apartment so she can refresh the beachy, seasalt smell she loves so much.