(no subject)

[initiates]

Date: February 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while older Transports are returning from the mission to Uruguay.
Warnings: None.

While those who have been guests of Exsilium since at least the last wave of Transports return from their desperate mission and are pressed out of the Transporter room and into the Courtyard, the Initiative prepares to receive a second wave at the same time. And if you're in that second wave, the fresh meat, then you've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium

Comments

I can't think of anyone XD

[heirwithouthope]

I suppose even elves would find use for these things.

[Of course Lord Elrond's assistance with the map was irreplaceable, and he was thankful. But Thorin's hate and suspicion towards the elves is a hundred years old, and deeply embedded inside him. It wouldn't dislodge after one good act--two, if you also counted the handkerchief.

But the war. His gaze wanders to the refugees sitting around with their wares, and the people like him that were pulled there against their will.]

What else can you tell me about this war?

XD

[ladyofrivendell]

All races represented here would, I'm sure.

[Elrond is always helpful and irreplaceable but her opinion on the matter is a bit more personal and extremely biased. And having been raised in Eregion and knowing several dwarves when she was but an elfling, she was going to be extremely baffled by such suspicion.]

It is against United Earth and we fight by going into the past. How it is possible is beyond my understanding but that is how things are done. Two missions I've seen and it seemed to be an time earlier than this for what little I know of this world. Strange things are also likely to happen. Fairly recently, many of us reverted to a young age or grew older.

[heirwithouthope]

[Somehow (though perhaps not surprisingly), hearing someone explain the war and their circumstances a second time doesn't help it sink in any easier than before, when the Initiates were telling them what was going on. But the last part causes Thorin to lift both eyebrows, slowly looking up at her like she just grew another head.]

That manner of witchcraft doesn't even seem possible. [Referring to the part about people's ages going up and down, but on that note, the whole thing sounds fucked up.] Are there no warriors here that can fight their own war?

[ladyofrivendell]

It doesn't, not at all, but I experienced it myself. If I hadn't experienced it and seen others change, I'd not believe it either.

[It really is but don't expect a lady like her to say such a thing. Or openly agree on the terminology.]

It seems not since they use us for their missions and tell what it is we are to do.

[heirwithouthope]

[The brief tightening of his mouth might be hard to detect beneath his beard; then it's accompanied by an indignant shift of his weight.] I do not have time for this. While they hold us here like prisoners, and demand we fight their battles for them, my people need me.

I care not for the struggles of men.

[ladyofrivendell]

You have more than enough time now as they'll not return us before they are ready to. I am sorry, master dwarf, but it something that we must all come to terms with.

[She sighs softly. She knew Elrond had some problems with Men but he at least cared enough that he had apparently taken in Estel.]

[heirwithouthope]

[It wasn't a matter of having problems with the race of Man, as Thorin has never been at odds with them the way he was with orcs and elves (if anything, Men provided him with work when he needed it). But his heart belongs to the long-suffering dwarves. More than that, it was his obligation to bring them home and restore their dignity.

The thought of leaving them against his will hurts him much worse than his wounds.] I will not. In Durin's name, I will be returned.

[ladyofrivendell]

I should expect no less, determined as you and your kin tend to be. I'll merely suggest that you not be too disappointed when you fail to find your own way to return.

[And the thought of being away from her home and family hurts her. It may not be the same but they all have something they want and need to return to. Of course, she knows nothing about Erebor since that particular dwarf kingdom has not come to exist in her time.]

[heirwithouthope]

[His eyes dart, going back to a distant slight he can't help but revisit when she shows complete certainty that he would fail—at least, that is his most deeply-embedded instinct to perceive it that way: lack of faith and lowered expectations from the fair folk. More and more he feels he can only rely on himself and the other dwarves.]

Perhaps then you will find more confidence in the strength of my people. [He still bows his head.] My lady.

[ladyofrivendell]

Oh, please do not mistake me. I lack no confidence in the strength of dwarves. I know it well, those of us in Eregion often traded with the dwarves in Moria before Eregion was destroyed.

[Look how old she is, Thorin!]

I merely mean that even your determination will not help you find a way to return. Much as I would be glad to see you succeed.

[heirwithouthope]

[Thorin lifts both eyebrows at that, peering at her closely. Of course hhe estimation of her age is not what surprises him, knowing that elves could live longer than any Man or dwarf, if nothing else stops them from doing so. It was the name that catches his attention; that particular piece of history connected to his grandfather.]

You are of Eregion?

[ladyofrivendell]

[There's really very little to distinguish her as one who lived in Eregion, since she has her mothers looks and father hair, as one of Thingol's kin.]

I am. I was born there and raised.

[Her father had never quite trusted the dwarves but she and her mother had no problems with being friends to them.]

[heirwithouthope]

[Chances were Thorin might not recognize an elf of Eregion just by sight, anyway. He wasn't a young dwarf anymore, but that was well before his time.]

And what do you go by, my lady?

[ladyofrivendell]

[Well before most people, really. That's the tricky thing about elves.]

I am the Lady Celebrían. And yourself?

[heirwithouthope]

[You and your agelessness and your perfect hair.]

Thorin. Son of Thráin, son of Thrór.

The first of the seven dwarf rings, that Lord Celebrimbor passed to Durin III, was inherited by my grandfather.

[ladyofrivendell]

[It takes some effort to have hair this perfect, actually. Her hair is well down her back, the knots are actually hellish to brush through. When she gets them.]

We are well met then, Thorin.

[Oh, that catches her attention. She hadn't actually thought about Celebrimbor or the rings in some time.]

It is a great gift that was given to your line. He was a great craftsman.

[heirwithouthope]

[Look on the bright side, though: at least you are not a dwarf woman and have to worry about taking care of your beard.

He bows his head once more, acknowledging even he hasn't found this conversation completely unpleasant.]

Fine for a craftsman of elves. [And then there's comments like those.] Were you acquainted with him?

[ladyofrivendell]

[Ew, beards. She couldn't even imagine having a beard much less caring for one. Nothing against dwarves, of course.]

Not personally but I knew of him. It's impossible not to have. My mother and father were, however.

[She had the Elessar that he'd crafted and given to her mother though.]

[heirwithouthope]

[It's really not that bad. A beard covers blemishes and keeps your face warm in the winter.]

Your mother and father?

[He wonders what kind of elves that her parents were to be acquainted with Celebrimbor.]

[ladyofrivendell]

[If she ever had to worry about blemishes, then it would definitely be useful.]

Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien.

[She wouldn't be at all surprised if he didn't know the names. Very few people ever entered the Golden Woods.]

[heirwithouthope]

[His expression shrinks into pensiveness.]

I've heard tell of Lothlorien--they say there is a powerful witch in those woods.

[ladyofrivendell]

[Thorin... you did not just go there.]

No witch resides without our woods. Only my kin and I.

[heirwithouthope]

[He eyes her for a moment.]

Then it is nothing more than rumor, perhaps.

[A part of him doubts her, of course, but he decides not to act on his suspicions--he doesn't see himself or his company traveling to Lothlorien, so it doesn't matter to him much if there really was a witch, or not.]

[ladyofrivendell]

It is.

[There's no question about it, and her tone suggests as much. As much as she respects dwarfs and considers them friends, she won't tolerate any of her kin being called a witch.]