faderift | [Open]

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WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Catch-All Log for pre-Orlais Solace
WHEN: Pre-Orlais, various
WHERE: Skyhold, various
NOTES: References this a lot.

I. a few of my favorite things
Skyhold is nothing like a ruin. Standing proud above the valley, it did nothing so undignified as hunch, precarious though its perch on the summit might have seemed-- Skyhold, is no vulture. Still, it has its scars, weak ankles, gaps where none should be, all healing, all being repaired, if slowly. Time heals all living things, and in the sunlight of summer, even the cold mountain air seemed healed of its frost, where it crossed the walls and dipped down into the courtyards and gardens.

It's a beautiful day for a picnic-- a teaparty, rather, and Obi-Wan has taken his tea outside, to meet a friend, and discuss the business of the week. Are you that friend? Yes? No? Would you like to be? Come, sit, bring your gripes, and your small joys. Have a cuppa, or pet the dog, a magnificently large white Mabari that seems to have cornered the local market on begging for scones. Settle in. All, are welcome here.

II.shadowland
In the shadow of Skyhold proper, pushed up under her like an errant kitten, half-forgotten, is the small camp of Grey Wardens. Obi-Wan does not come here often, but more often lately than he has before. More to the point, he's here now, walking with just the same calm intent one might use going down a perfectly clean and well-kept corridor, rather than the uncertain gaps between tents. In his sand-colored robes and not so much as a dagger at his belt, he might seem unarmed, if you had never seen him fight. But maybe that's what the mabari trotting at his heels is for?

He's looking for someone. Maybe you can help him find them, or at least find his way out of your business. Or maybe you are the someone he's looking for?

III. le festine
Obi-Wan steps into the local tavern not without trepidation, though he hides it well. There's always the moment of adjustment, between the cool sunset air of outside, and the warm, life- smelling atmosphere within. A likewise adjustment must be made between the tired, day's-end lives outside and the generally celebratory, or surly, or uninhibited minds within. Still, he endeavors to adapt swiftly, casting over the crowd-- he came here to meet more person than one, and there they are, all clustered in the place of their custom. He crosses the room and takes a seat, settling into the chair even as he drops the burden of a sheaf of paper on the table.

"What a day," he says, more to the ceiling, than to anyone in particular, before straightening up, "Excuse me, that was rude. Good evening."

IV. wildcard me

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In no way like his first visit to this office, Obi-Wan comes. Alone and unguarded, by his own choice, and in his own time. He knocks, then has to delay himself ensuring that the Mabari following him doesn't simply bull ahead into the room ahead of him. His hissed conversation with no less than a dog is audible through the partially-open door.

Sit. No, you're staying here. Don't give me a look, you-- sit. Now, stay. Think of it as guard-duty.

This last is apparently enough, and he is able, finally, to open the door properly and come in, closing it behind him. He offers Cassandra a look of mixed chagrine and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry about that. Shall we?"

Cassandra looks up at the sounds of scuffling feet in the hallway, followed by a murmured voice. After a moment, she places the voice. Obi-Wan. So he had come, after all.

She doesn't greet him when he comes in, just looks past him at the door for a moment, before looking up at his face.

"You have a dog?"

Her tone and expression are neutral. This is not a woman about to beg him to let her pet the puppy and feed it treats.

"A recent acquisition," He says, "I happened upon her while on some recent business in Orlais on behalf of Leliana's interests. As a favor to her."

Or, more accurately, to her friends. He had no way of being sure Leliana would survive to appreciate it until after the fact: Obi-Wan had gone as part of the group meant to apprehend those behind the plot to assassinate the Left Hand. Former Left Hand. He wasn't sure how much Cassandra knew about the whole business, really.

"She followed me back. Now, I'm told that once a Mabari decides they belong with you, there's no arguing with it."

Edited 2016-07-08 06:54 (UTC)

Her expression softens, just slightly, at the mention of Leliana. She had known, naturally, about the attempt to assassinate her friend, and had been at her side throughout her recovery. She had also been vaguely aware that a group had gone to Orlais to track down the assassins, but had been too concerned with Leliana herself to ever learn the final makeup of the team.

That Obi-Wan had been among them - well, it is a surprise, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. It means something that he had volunteered to go.

"You know Leliana?" she asks, momentarily distracted from the official reason for this visit. And from the dog.

Edited 2016-07-08 07:04 (UTC)

"Yes," He replies, seating himself. It's the same chair he had the first time he was here, though the atmosphere is a good deal less restrictive, "Apparently, getting along with her pets is a point in my favor-- I'd like to consider a friend."

He likes animals, and animals like him in return. And whatever else they may be, Obi-Wan is willing to testify that Leliana's beloved nugs are excellent judges of character. And Leliana herself is not unskilled in that arena, either.

"We have a common ground, between us."

She nods, smiling softly. Cassandra had never personally seen the appeal of either Leliana's nugs nor her ravens, but the Nightingale's devotion to her pets had always been...touching. Not that she would ever admit any of that to Leliana.

"That is good," she says quietly, before reminding herself, again, of why she had called him here. She sits up straighter, her expression growing severe as she looks into his eyes.

"We must discuss what happened in the Fade."

Obi-Wan mimics her businesslike shift, going from a genial tilt, arms folded, to something more straight-backed and formal. Time to go to business, is it?

"Yes, we should," He is perhaps not a truthful man, but he is honest, and he had promised, her an explanation, "Would you like to start with anything specific?"

"Yes," she says. She knows exactly where she wants to start - or rather, where she has to - and she doesn't break his gaze.

"I owe you my thanks. You saved my life, and led us both safely out of the Fade. You could have easily left me behind, but you did not. I am sure I did not make things - easy for you, but still you remained at my side, and - and helped me, despite myself." She tilts her head downward, a tiny gesture of acknowledgement. "Thank you."

Edited 2016-07-08 18:17 (UTC)

He does shy away from the directness of her gaze, but manages by virtue of raised eyebrows and a surprised blink, to convey his bemusement. He hadn't been expecting that; if anything, he expected to be chewed out for his trouble, yet again. Will wonders never cease?

"It's not often I get to hear that," He says, quietly, obscurely grateful when his voice remains steady despite the unexpectedness of the moment. And it's true, the Jedi have the gratitude and loyalty of many-- but one rarely expresses thanks, for a lone governmental representative swooping in to turn your life upside down, "You're welcome."

Cassandra nods, finally glancing away. Her gratitude is sincere, and she would never have considered not thanking him, but all the same, she's glad that conversation is over with.

"And now," she continues, looking up again, "you will tell me exactly what a Jedi is, and what you can do." Her eyes narrow. "And this time, you will not assume that I am incapable of understanding, or unwilling to try."

"Fair enough," It wasn't that he thought of her as stupid, only that at the time she'd been the next thing to open emnity. Well, the time to make amends was now, wasn't it? "...Where to begin?"

Hard enough to know how to explain so much of it. What a Jedi is, what a Jedi does... so much of it was dependent on circumstance.

"You already know the purpose of the Order. That's what makes a Jedi more than just a person with particular skills. You aren't born a Jedi-- you're trained for it," Diplomatically phrased, that. He thinks back to Anders' accusations, not of dishonesty, but of a kind of conversational cowardice that would side-step any straight answer, "Actually, let me start over. From the beginning."

He shifts again, leaning forward, letting go of the defensive, cross-armed posture. His hands lift, briefly uncertain, then fall, loose fists propped on his knees. Deep breath, now.

"The Force is an energy field, created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together," He began, carefully, then paused a moment to think before continuing, "Each individual life is more or less sensitive to the vagaries of the Force. Some are completely oblivious to it, while others live entirely on its energy. Mostly, we all exist somewhere in between."

That was the foundation, done. He paused for breath, almost long enough that it was as if she were being given a moment to reply. But no, he wasn't done yet; he continued.

"If that sensitivity is nurtured, trained, and put to use, it's like any other skill; it grows. Without the training, they might seem luckier, or more intuitive than average, but it never amounts to much. Most Jedi join the Order as children, but most Force-sensitives never even do so much-- and even those who are brought into the Order often don't complete the training, and eventually leave. If they do, they have the option to become a Jedi, assuming they can successfully finish an apprenticeship under a proven Jedi Knight. That is what a Jedi is, in short."

Edited 2016-07-09 00:40 (UTC)

She listens, recalling all she can of what he had told her of the Jedi Order on their first meeting. He had spoken of peace, and justice. Diplomacy. Ideals to strive for - certainly nothing to object to. It might almost be compared to the Templar Order, in some ways, or the Seekers themselves.

But then he interrupts the explanation, speaking of something else, and Cassandra's eyes narrow in concentration. It's difficult even to believe him - there is no proof, after all, and it all sounds so farfetched - but she had seen something in the Fade. And she is determined to keep an open mind, after his accusations, his withering dismissal of her as someone choosing to see what she wished to see, and no more.

"This...Force," she says at last. "It is here? In Thedas - you can sense it?" She has more questions - many of them - but it will do no good to overwhelm him all at once.

"Yes," He replies, watching her carefully. She's not discounting him, though it's clear she isn't ready to accept it, "It exists wherever life exists, every life; even the Tranquil are a part of it."

The tranquil were some of the strangest, if he were honest. They were part of the Force, yes, but almost in the way an animal would be-- somehow muted, devoid of emotion. Spooky.

"The Force is what gives a Jedi his power, and the source of many of our abilities."

Their abilities. That's really the crux of the matter; she can ask him all day about what the Force is and how it works, why he alone in Thedas is able to sense it, but whether or not she believes any of it, there's only one thing that she must know above all else, and she leans forward on her desk, eyes keen and boring into his.

"What are these abilities?"

"The capabilities of a Jedi are nearly as varied as the individual. But, some things are considered... standard."

He pauses a moment, takes a breath, and for a moment entertained the mental image of a dozen or more young Jedi, training in unison as the young recruits do under the shadow of Skyhold. It wasn't exactly the same, but similar in intention-- though Jedi begin much younger.

"You must have seen me use a push, or a pull, physically manipulating the world through the Force, for example," He lifted a hand, hesitated a moment, as if to ask permission, then applied the necessary effort that brought an errant book sailing neatly from Cassandra's shelf into his palm, "...The creative application of which is as flashy as anything ever gets with our Order. Most of the Jedi abilities are far more subtle-- we can sense strong emotions for example, and sense, or even see the distant past or near future."

To her credit, she doesn't jump. But she does stare, all of her focus on him, as the book flies across the room to land in his hand.

"All that you are describing..." she says slowly. "The things that you claim you can do. That I have seen you do." She looks up from the book to meet his eyes. It's not an accusation this time; just her trying to understand.

"You must realize by now that there is nothing like the Jedi Order in Thedas. I have never heard of anything like this Force that gives power, except perhaps for a mage's mana. Perhaps your Force is not so different from magic after all, even if you use a different word."

"Perhaps not in its effect," He explained, calm under her gaze, and very aware of the weight of every moment. He had been give his position without a question as to volunteering or democratic processes, but now would be the time to set the stage for the future-- he hoped, "But, they are very different in execution, and in the potential dangers presented by each. Potential Jedi don't pose any particular risk to those around them, if they go untrained, for example. But then, we can't do any number of the useful things a mage can."

One heard stories, and very rarely, of Sith Lords shooting lightning from their hands, but never fire, never ice. Never the kind of thing he saw regularly from even the meanest among the mages of the Inquisition, casual manipulations of the fabric of reality in ways that only barely seemed comprehensible from the hands of ancient masters, wielded by those little more than his own age and frequently less.

"I do realize that. It's not my place to interfere, but I can't help but view the recent history of the Mages and the Templars with a certain reserve," He could only wonder what she was envisioning of his world, behind that diamond stare of hers, a world where the mages were templars and seekers and warriors all in one-- and where they could walk quite freely away from such a life, even so. Did it alarm her? Or was the whole notion so alien as to be beyond understanding? "Of course, there's no reason to believe those sensitive to the Force don't live among you. Without the same screenings and infrastructure present in the Republic, they might go undetected all their lives... how would anyone know?"

Useful, or dangerous. Nothing she had seen Obi-Wan do seemed a potential threat the way an out-of-control fire mage might be, much less one possessed by a demon, or turning to blood magic to power their spells.

Of course, thus far he had only given her examples. There is, she suspects, much more that he has not yet mentioned, or been careful not to show.

"Anyone might view their recent history with some reserve," she says dryly. There is a war on, after all. But debating mage and templar relations will get them nowhere, and she refuses to be deterred from the actual subject of this meeting.

"Do you think it likely that such a thing could go completely undetected? If there truly were those...sensitive to its power among us?" She leans forward, curious, despite her own skepticism. "Could you find them, if there were?"

"It's not my specialty, but-- yes, potentially, if they were strong enough in the Force, and if I were looking hard enough. If most of the equipment I was carrying hadn't been destroyed, coming through the Rift..." Unless midichlorians, ever the best tell-tale physical sign of a Force-user, were as unique to his world as the Fade was to this one. But that was a problem for another age, he thought, and no use without the simple blood-testing unit that was now little more than a plastic shell and silicone-bearing slag, "...Well, it's all subjective. But yes. Even if a young Force-sensitive happened to harness their abilities by sheer chance, without any guidance or training, they'd likely be mistaken for a mage."

But they wouldn't be one at all, and if they weren't sent away as a fraud, would surely meet an unpleasant consequence, when they proved unable to perform up to many of the standards required. The harrowing...

He didn't finish the thought.

"It's not impossible."

Cassandra is quiet, a troubled frown on her face as her thoughts follow the same path. Someone with powers not unlike magic, close enough that she herself had been fooled, with no one to tell them or anyone that they were not a mage at all, but something entirely different...

She leans closer, locks her eyes on Obi-Wan.

"What is this equipment? Could you - " No, she's getting ahead of herself. She stops, taking a breath.

"What else can you do?"

Just a simple thing, a blood-test. He wondered if native Thedosians, with all their superstitions and taboos around blood would see it that way.

"As I said, I can sense... the future, more or less. It's enough that Jedi are forbidden to gamble for personal gain, and no one with sense would take a bet proposed by a Jedi-- except, perhaps another Jedi."

He thought of his student years, and Siri declaring just by looking at a planet that something bad was going to happen. And then, of course, it always did.

"I've known Jedi who could predict ambushes which wouldn't have taken place for a week's time. Grand Master Yoda is capable of accurate visions that predate actual events by years," Obi-Wan set the book down finally, cover-up, and folded his arms again, a gesture of preemptive withdraw. He knew, it probably sounded ridiculous, "My own abilities are nothing so special, but I am unlikely to be the unwitting victim of a sniper, or a hidden ambush. And it does help, in a fight, to be sure of what you're opponent is going to do, before they do it."

"I am sure it does," she says, thinking, not for the first time since that day, of his actions at Griffon Wing Keep - how his lightsaber had met his enemy's arrows in midair, unerringly blocking every last one. She tilts her head, studying him closely.

"You must realize how impossible this all sounds."

She had heard Evelyn's report of Redcliffe Castle, and Dorian's, as well as read Malcom's report of the ancient Tevinters, frozen in time in the Western Approach. Still. Hearing these things did not make them any easier to believe. And Obi-Wan's claims are something else again.

"What is impossible in one world, is commonplace in another. I was as surprised about many things here that you surely think of as unremarkable-- Elfroot in particular seems miraculous," He shakes his head at the thought of it; a hardy, easily-transported, battlefield-use healing agent, as effective or moreso than the ubiquitous but unwieldy Bacta... The mind boggles, "If someone were to cultivate it, back in the Republic, they could make themselves richer than I care to imagine. And that's just one thing of many."

"Hmm."

It's an interesting thought. But then, perhaps not entirely unheard of. After all, what is commonplace in Nevarra may be completely alien in Ferelden. She frowns, lost in thought, and then catches herself, blinking.

"...Thank you." She focuses, once again, on Obi-Wan. "This has been very...enlightening."

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X. good company (for Cassandra)

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