faderift | this world of ours is not as it seems

WHO: River and OPEN
WHAT: Spooky little girl wandering around Skyhold.
WHEN: Late Wintermarch.
WHERE: Various locations around Skyhold.
NOTES: n/a

River has good days, and she has bad days. At times it feels like the swing of a pendulum, whose motions she can never truly calculate.

The good days have gotten progressively better. There are points of focus, people to talk to, to connect with. The Fade remains a presence, near-engulfing even when she's awake, but there's an opportunity to see past it, or perhaps more accurately to watch it layer against the people on this side of the Veil. Cole's compassion. Nerva's protectiveness. Zevran's cleverness. She thrives in their contact, stretching out without fear of it harming either Simon or herself, and simply allowed to be. It's a novel concept. She flits about the keep, often barefoot and the edges of her dress a little dirtier than they ought to be, her dark hair streaming behind her.

It's odd to think she has friends, yet it seems so. She feels their overlap and it feels like comfort, like warmth, and she doesn't want to untangle herself just yet.

But there are bad days.

She's more like a feral cat on those days, slinking just out of sight, out of reach. Either the noise has grown too loud inside her own head, or Simon's attempts to negate the worst of it leave her sluggish and more than a little bitter. Stumbling around like a child, slowed and lethargic. Those days she's not much good for anyone, though she tries to find those warm touchstones again. She lingers in the kitchens, in the hall, in the library or tavern, trying in vain to feel the vividness of those familiar voices again, blossoming bright like colors in her mind's eye.

She's little more than a shadow then. Huddled, hair in her face, staring outward blankly and through most passersby.

There are more good days than bad, thankfully. But every time she sinks brings doubt, creeping and gnawing. If she can't prevent herself from slipping, what happens if she falls?

Or is simply it a matter of when?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cade was patrolling when he saw a small form sneak out of sight, and knew it well by the fact that it was barefoot. He furrowed his brow and went forward to peer into the alcove where she'd disappeared.

He saw her there, huddled and silent, with an expression he knew all too well, even if he didn't understand its exact cause. His heart pulled oddly, and before he knew what he was doing, he sank into a crouch, the way one would to talk to a frightened animal: making himself smaller and less of a threat. "What can I do?" he asked, so quietly that only River would hear.

River stared out at him, mouth moving silently for a moment as though mimicking his words. Then one hand lifted, pressing to the side of her head. "Too loud. The edge is too sharp. Scraping on the inside, like fingers..felt like their fingers, in my head. Touching. Too close. Couldn't get them out."

Even in the midst of her obvious discomfort, there's something slightly sheepish that creeps across her face. "...I threw up," she confesses, in an even quieter tone.

Cade listened intently, and actually smiled a little at her confession. There were far worse ways to react to losing one's mine than losing one's lunch, and he wasn't about to judge her for that.

"I can..." he mused, paused apologetically, then forced himself to continue. "...I can try to quiet it. Like I did before." But he wouldn't do it at her, this time. He would do it for her, if she thought it would help.

He's sorry he did that, he's sorry, he wants to help. He knows what it's like to feel too much.

River drew in a breath. It might help. It might hurt. She didn't know, but anything was better than the dizzying swirl of too much, too fast, unable to get the crawling out from under her skin. Finally she gave a brief, shaky nod.

Cade's brow knit sympathetically at the time she took to answer him. When she nodded, he nodded too.
Though he was in his lighter clothing, he still had his sword on him. He stood to unsheath it, then crouched again, holding it in both hands, point on the ground, where she could see it. Then he closed his eyes, concentrated, and called forth the power to silence. The spell wasn't the mess it had been last time, directed now so that it would affect only River and not any other mage in the vicinity. It wasn't the blast it had been, although the sensation would still be unpleasant, like the air being quickly sucked out of one's lungs.

It only took a few seconds, and then it was done. Cade lowered his sword and looked at River to gauge her reaction.

Her eyes went wide as the sensation burst under her skin, sucking inward and leaving her reeling in its wake. For a brief second the color seemed to blur out of their surroundings, something dry in her veins, and with a small pained sound she tipped into the curve of the alcove, shivering.

But the voices had stopped, albeit temporarily. She was alone in her own head. The only thing it couldn't stop was the emotional backlash from suddenly having everything pulled out from under her. Something Cade wouldn't have predicted in trying to help.

"No. No no no no no," she muttered, curling up tighter, her cheek pressing against the stone.

At first Cade was pleased by what he saw. She had reacted as he had imagined, docile and no longer seeming so frayed at the edges. But then, she curled tighter, and began to protest.

"Oh-- oh no," he said, and sat back on his heels, looking around nervously. "...no, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His apologies were quiet but frantic. Could he do anything right, could he attend to any of his old duties without ruining them?

Deciding he had done enough, he got to his feet and put his face in one hand. "I'll just go," he decided, and turned to take his hasty leave rather than risk hurting her further.

Her hand flew out almost immediately, grabbing hold of the toe of his boot before he could pull away any further. He still could, of course.

But the pleading look she set on him begged him not to. Everything was cold and gray and slipping around, untethered and frighteningly silent. She didn't want to be alone for that.

Cade flinched when he was nearly tripped, and he looked down on the girl in surprise. Then, taking the hint, he returned to his crouch and then sat down facing her, pulling one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it.

"I can't..."

She swallows, trying to explain, to sort things out in a way that he might understand. Cade in particular has difficult deciphering what she says, but she's compelled to try regardless. Her hands gesture wildly in her frustration.

"Bridge with all the bricks falling away. You can cross but you can't step too far, too fast, can't lean. It's so close to falling into nothing. There's just...nothing."

Cade just watches her, and even if he can't understand, he's listening. He purses his lips in a thoughtful frown at what River says, and after a moment, asks, "...what's on the other side? Where are you trying to cross to?"

She goes silent and still. What is she reaching for? She doesn't know, the concept has no words that fit her tongue at the moment, and she winces. Reaches a hand against her temple and grinds the heel of her palm against it, as though trying to dig the knowledge out again.

"Can't see it..."

"Wait. Maybe just..." Cade doesn't know who he's kidding with this advice-- it sounds easy in theory, when he's telling it to her, but he knows he could never follow it himself. "...stay here for a while. On this side of the bridge. Until you feel better."

"Stay?"

The digging turns to kneading, her brow furrowed in confusion. She can't reach out the way she normally would. All she can do is stare up at him, like he's the only answer there is. Everything else is barren, gray, silent.

No. This isn't worth it. Never again, never this again.

Cade nods, and settles back a little, fully seating himself on the ground in front of River. "Just stay here," he says again, noticing that the intensity of her hands on her head has diminished somewhat, even if she's still clearly in distress. "It'll come back."

Logically, he was right. It was temporary, and would fade as it had before. The last time she had stayed to make sure he didn't hurt, that he wouldn't be hurt, until someone could come and see to him.

Now here they were, places reversed. She draws in a shaky breath and nods, closing her eyes. Just be still. Don't move. Stay in place, until it all came back again. She swallows thickly, and her fingers drag back and forth across the stone under her. The rough texture was real, grounding, something.

this world of ours is not as it seems

Bad Day

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject