Player Plot: My Father's Eyes

[aceso]

WHO: Christine Delacroix, Korrin Ataash, Sam Gareth, James Norrington (+ NPC Templars), Bruce Banner, Ingrid Kief, Aleron Darton, Church
WHAT: The group is off to stop Red Templars and visit the Empress's soldiers.
WHEN: IC it's August 30 for the main event, add a few days of padding for travel time to and from.
WHERE: southeast Orlais, not many days out from Skyhold at a front in the War of the Lions
NOTES: Violence and mention of injuries. OOC post is here for reference.

Starters in comments below!

Comments

[aceso]

Christine places a hand on Korrin's side and sets a rejuvenation spell on her, hoping to ease her aches. She does this without Faith's help, not wanting any nearby soldiers to start screaming that she's possessed based on the glow in her eyes.

The general clears his throat, not sure if he should be insulted at Korrin's manner. Look, he's a busy man and he can't be bothered to worry over the Inquisition when they volunteered to take on the Red Templars, right?

"I am all right, Sam." Christine still feels twinges of pain from the electrocution, but she can endure those easily enough. Right now she wants to make sure she sees to everyone who has been hurt. In addition to that, she needs to question the general about her father. From Korrin's side, she looks up at the masked man.

"Have you any news for me concerning Luc Delacroix?"

"Ah, yes. I-- just a moment." He turns away and Christine gives a look to the back of his helmet that could melt it. But he gestures to another man, and that person comes over. He is also wearing one of those ridiculous helmets with the mask in front, though his is less decorated. Christine stands, her heart seeming to slam against her ribcage. Is this her father? The soldier moves to remove the helmet, revealing a man in his mid-forties with graying dark hair. But there is nothing about him that Christine recognizes.

"You are kin to Delacroix?"

Christine clears her throat, straightening her spine. "I am. I am his daughter."

The soldier inclines his head. "I am the captain of his regiment. I am... sorry to inform you that your father fell in battle against the Grand Duke's forces nearly two months ago." He does look sorry for it, brow furrowed in concern. He keeps speaking, but Christine can't really hear what he's saying. Her heartbeat is pounding loudly in her ears and the world seems to be shrinking. She's too late. She's missed her chance to ever see him again.

"...if not for the ban on all messages leaving the front save military messages," -- here the captain wisely does not look towards the general, but his annoyance is clear -- "I would have informed the people of Velun of the men lost in that fight. And would have sent personal effects home."

She manages to hear enough to form a response, trying her best to stay composed. She hasn't seen her father in fifteen years and yet this hurts as much as if she had just seen him yesterday. Why is that?

"And did he have any personal effects?"

The captain sets his helmet aside and reaches into the pouch on his belt. "Yes, one thing that was not issued to him. When I heard he was being asked after, I collected it for you." Out comes a simple leather pouch with Delacroix scrawled on it in charcoal to identify it. The man tips it over his hand, where a small object lands in his palm and glints gold in the sunlight. Christine feels as though her arm weighs a hundred pounds as she lifts it to take the object, holding it up to examine it more closely. It's a ring with two different shades of blonde hair woven together as a keepsake. She stares down at the ring a long moment before slowly reaching a hand up to touch her own hair. Is this her mother's hair and... hers? The weight of this realization hits her all at once and she throws a hand over her mouth to suppress her sudden sobs.

[gatheringstorm]

Honestly, Korrin wouldn't mind if he was insulted. She isn't expecting pampering, but simple gratitude would be nice. If he can't give it to a qunari directly, the Inquisition still deserves recognition.

But her mind turns from irritation at Orlesian bigotry the moment the soldier informs them of Luc Delacroix's demise. Ignoring any lingering stiffness, though the rejuvenation spell helps considerably, she slips an arm around Christine's shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Christine...."

[motherfucking_ghost]

Church has been listening, of course. The trip back here sucked, mostly because at least half if not more than half of everyone there had been electrocuted, and that's not fun, and the healers were running themselves ragged, and he'll drink some of that gross smelling red stuff that's supposed to help with healing later, when the pain ebbs back in in earnest, and the whole affair's been kind of weird. Fighting demons from rifts is a different experience, in a way, because he's usually spending most of the time helping Rifters than fighting. Fighting nightmares around The Nightmare had been harrowing at best. And this is the closest brush he's had with straight up death since then.

But he's paying attention. Half the reason they even came here, whether Christine would admit it or not, is because of her father. He'd encouraged her, told her repeatedly that the not knowing would eventually be worse than the knowing, whatever the outcome. He's lived that. Not knowing sucks.

And sometimes knowing also sucks.

She stands in that stiff way that people do when they've stopped listening to the world around them, when their mind has left and the body has been shocked into ramrod stillness, but when the ring hits her hand, she is smaller. She is crumbling.

He can't stand it. It's not something he can protect her from. "Chris--" It's more of a murmur than anything else, and an impulse when he sweeps past Korrin--sorry, Korrin, you're awesome, and he brushes a hand against her arm in quick but silent thanks, but--to gather her up, arms around her frame, her waist, and pull her against him easy as breathing.

[aceso]

The comforting touch makes Christine break down even harder, but before she can turn into Korrin to hug her back, the world suddenly shifts and she's pressed up against Church's chest. Sorry, Korrin. You are awesome, but Christine just needs someone to hold her upright now, and Church has claimed the spot. Her hand closes tightly around the ring so she doesn't lose it, and for a long minute or so, all she can do is sob. She hates crying. She hates showing weakness. For so long she's had to prove that she's a strong-willed, capable mage and that has led her to push back the things that tear at her. But now it all pours out of her because if there's one thing she hates more than showing weakness, it's failing.

"I should have written sooner!" she cries out, the words slightly muffled against Church's frame. "I could have heard from him at least once! Why did I wait so long?!" A hand flies up and then back down, pushing at his chest so she can get some room to look up at him. "He never knew I was alive! He died not knowing!" Her face crumbles and she's wracked with sobs again.

"I-- I have to tell my mother..."

[ingrid_kief]

The news hits a tender spot in Ingrid's heart too, and she feels a deep sympathy for the other woman. But, as they do not know each other well, she keeps a respectful distance.

"I am very sorry for your loss. It is... hard to lose loved ones," she says kindly, her good hand fingering the Warden pendant around her neck. "I pray he has found comfort at the Maker's side."

[el_tybs]

As the words are spoken, Sam slowly eases himself up into a sitting position to hear better. There's a moment of hope, waiting to hear that Christine's dad is just holed up somewhere with maybe a broken leg, but it quickly crumbles away, feeling his own heart seem to sink into his stomach - it was like reading his letter from his aunt months ago.

He had only learned months ago of his father's passing, but that was almost four years ago, a time when he was in the Circle - there was grief but firm in that there was nothing he could do. This though- especially coming right after things with Asher.

For a moment he just watches on quietly as Church gathers her up and Christine begins to break down before walking over. He stops short when a hand starts flying around, but even when she settles down again there isn't much space to give her a proper hug. Instead Sam reaches over and puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly.

"You'll want to go see her in person, right?"

[lifeofendurance]

The news is a bitter draught so close on the heals of a hard won victory. Aleron remains a bulwark of stoicism, arms folded over his chest, even though he feels genuinely terrible for Christine. He can't quite relate to her level of grief for the loss of her father, despite his own having passed decades ago. He was still mostly a boy when it happened, and the news came in a letter, delivered by his impersonal mentor.

But he does understand grief, all too well, as anyone who knows him realizes. Likewise he understands self-blame and regrets. None of these he holds against Christine, nor does Aleron argue with her cries.

What he can do, he does; he takes a few steps closer and offers quietly, "I am here for whatever you need."

[motherfucking_ghost]

It feels like the most natural thing in the world, to hold her close and give her something solid to cry on, to keep her upright when all else is bringing her down. At least she knows she has friends here. "He died still loving you and your mom. Not knowing didn't change how he felt." Church has no plans of letting go, not until she doesn't need him anymore. So. People are just gonna have to work around that.

[amygdalae]

In all honestly, Bruce can't find himself surprised by the news. The chances of people being able to survive out here was slim at best, not when there are fights like these happening. Not to mention the continued civil unrest...

Not for the first time Bruce feels his anger burn - to this war, these pointless fights, the people who've lost their lives so far--how many more of those had to be lost? How many families had to be broken apart before this war was finally done? Enough people had already died. Enough families had already been ruined. It made him really want to go and make something burn just so he could let out that anger inside of him. His rage, always there, always burning. A reminder of what he was and why he did what he was going.

Bruce curls his hands into fists and then releases them, forcing himself to take in a breath to keep his temper back down. Control. That was what he needed right now.

Letting out that breath slowly he looks at the soldier who had given the news. "Thank you for telling us this." At least, he supposed, knowing was better than forever not knowing. But yet it is times like these where sometimes knowing was a far bigger burden than the other.

[aceso]

The captain has personally delivered messages like this a few times before. Mostly it has been in letters, but he's a career soldier and he's had to face the loved ones of those whose lives he'd witnessed be snuffed out. Christine's reaction doesn't surprise him, and he bows his head in respect, planning to step back without thanks. He doesn't expect to be thanked for this sort of news, not when he's had wives clutch to his coat, mothers yell at him, little brothers kick at his shins. But Bruce's words give him pause and he inclines his head, only to acknowledge it.

"It is all I can do, I am afraid. But I will leave you now." He gives a bow and leaves back further into the base. Meanwhile, the general really has no idea what to do with the theatrically dramatic display of Christine's, and so he's been inching away this whole time. Finally far enough away, he picks up a report he's read countless times already to try and look busy. Call him when the lady is done with her hysteria.

"Yes," Christine says in answer to Sam. Her hand reaches back and squeezes his on her shoulder before she looks up at Church, collecting herself. She tries to take deep breaths and nods at his words. He's right, of course, but here in the moment she wants someone to blame that's here, because the soldier who took his life is across the way in that other base.

Pulling back from Church just a little, her gaze shifts fully to Sam. Over the almost year they've known each other, he's become her brother. "You will come with me, will you not?" She knows he will. That's the kind of person Sam is. She looks past him, taking a moment to wipe at her face. Ingrid's words on the Maker make Christine's stomach clench, because her own faith has long been wavering. It's why the spirit of Faith that helps her was drawn to her in the first place. There can be no faith without doubt. Right now Faith reaches out to Christine, not telling her to have faith in the Maker, but faith in those she's surrounded herself with: her friends. They can be strong for her when she can't. Christine nods. "Thank you, Ingrid." It was a kind thought, despite Christine's rocky relationship with the Maker.

To Aleron, she turns and takes another calming breath. "I would be grateful if you would be in charge of the things we confiscated from the camp." She says things because she doesn't want any soldiers overhearing they took the red lyrium. It's safely -- or as near safely as it can be -- stored in a locked and warded box in Christine's satchel. "As well as given the paperwork to the advisors." It's nothing groundbreaking, just letters between Red Templars on lyrium shipments. As far as Christine could tell from a quick glance, it doesn't pinpoint an exact location where it's all going. but any bit of information passed along is better than keeping it back.

"I must go straight to my mother from here, and so I entrust these things to your care."

[el_tybs]

"Of course," he says softly, retracting his hand back to give her space to collect herself. Christine didn't need to ask, he had already said long ago that he would help her through whatever came along. He had just imagined that when he would follow her home to be support that it would to encourage her to knock on the door, not this.

"How soon are we going to leave?" He wouldn't be surprised if she said 'now', but they probably need some time to rest from their fight and stock up. Not only that but probably get a map and directions, unless she knew how to get there from here.

[aceso]

Her knee jerk reaction is to say "now," but she knows better than to push herself or any of them after what they've faced.

"Perhaps we should make camp tonight and split up tomorrow." Without looking at it again, she pockets the ring to keep it safe and looks towards the general, clearing her throat. "Would it be safer for us to make camp here, or will hostilities be resuming now?"

The general puts down the parchment and looks over the group. Mages, Templars, and a Qunari. He really isn't thrilled with the idea of them staying, and he isn't sure what his Empress's official stance on the Inquisition is. Yet he can't deny that they came in his army's time of need, when even others from the larger army wouldn't come.

"Well, you have done us a great service, and it would be discourteous to turn you away now. We will not resume the fight until tomorrow. For tonight, you may stay here." Just hopefully close to the exit.

Christine nods and looks over the group. "We did well. Every Red Templar we stop means we are stopping another from spreading this dangerous thing further in the world." As she speaks, the general calls for his valet to arrange a sleeping area for the Inquisition, and supplies are soon being shuffled around. The group is free to sit, relax, and even have supper by the fire.

Still close to Church, Christine tilts her face up towards him. "Will you come with me too?"

[motherfucking_ghost]

Good, because if this guy didn't let them fucking rest their asses, they might've used whatever was left of their strength to start a riot. "To visit your mom? Yeah. Anything you need me to do, I'm here for you." Weird to say something like that out loud, even if it's usually implied. He brushes some hair away from her face. "I got your back."