faderift | open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

WHO: Inquisition Forces
WHAT: Inquisition forces cross the mountains into Orlais to deal with Emprise du Lion
WHEN: Wintermarch 25 onward
WHERE: EMPRISE DU LION
NOTES: This is a mingle-style log for the Inquisition camps, local tavern, and general/open Inquisition work, etc.

This time they hike down to the west, but the trip through the mountains is no easier. The snow is heaped up about the road where wagons have pushed it aside, stomped into slippery pack beneath the feet and hooves that have gone before. Of the main track it is ankle deep at best and in places it drifts, waist-deep on a tall man and enough to bury a dwarf who hasn't come prepared with snowshoes. Everywhere the wind howls, biting cold, and the sky hangs low, a pale flat grey that makes it difficult to judge distances. Those who know winter weather call it a snow sky, and near-daily squalls prove them right.

They set up camp in Sahrnia, across the broad expanse of frozen river that has trapped the villagers here upstream. Tents pop up in rows and in the shells of tumbled-down buildings, fires blazing and thawing the ground to mud. When the supply wagons roll in they re-open the local tavern, brightly lit with flaking paint on the walls that might once have been colorful and patterned tiles on the floor that seems to swim like an optical illusion after too many glasses of the cheap red wine that fills the cellars.

Even deadlier reds hold the hills: Red Templar sightings have been frequent and it is said they are operating in several locations in the region in significant force. Some of these men and women have become hulking, crystalline beasts. Many others are in the earlier stages of corruption: red-veined and -eyed, aggressive and superhumanly strong, but still visibly human and coherent if spoken to. Red lyrium is even easier to find, jutting out of the ground or cliffsides, filling caves-- the Tower of Bone, a fortress that has stood for centuries, now threatens to split from the inside out. The area's wildlife was none too friendly before, but now the wolves and bears have begun to be corrupted by the lyrium and many will attack on sight, without provocation. (The snofleurs that bumble harmlessly around the river seem unaffected.)

Everywhere there are ruins: broken bridges, crumbling colosseums, and the great hulking mass of Suledin's Keep tucked between the distant hills. Scouts reported that Red Templars hold it as well.

RIFTER ARRIVAL - SAHRNIA - THE HILLS - TOWER CAMP - A HANDY MAP

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Pel taps at Merrill's tent flap. They've met, though they haven't spoken at great length. They have similar enough fields that Pel considers her a colleague, but they've never had the chance to get to know one another beyond Pel reading Varric's book. And Varric's book is just Varric's viewpoint.]

Merrill? It's Pel, from Ashara. Could I speak with you?

[ The reply is immediate, accompanied by rustling from inside the tent -- Merrill, trying to extract herself from her blankets to get the tent flap open. ]

Of course!

[ It only halfway works; she's got her legs still wrapped in blankets, the stick she'd been whittling into some sort of woodland creature and her knife abandoned on her pillow. ]

[Pel doesn't bat an eyelash at the sight of Merrill half-blanketed. Stranger things are seen at camp. She gives a faint smile.]

Aneth ara. It's about my research into Veilfire runes. I'd like your help, if you don't mind. A...lot of your help, actually. Should I come in, or are you coming out?

Oh, come in, please!

[ That will, for starters, give her a chance to get out from the blanket monster that is attacking her legs. Besides that, it's cold outside. ]

I don't mind at all.

[ In fact, she's just going to sort of- gracefully fall back down to where she was previously sitting. ]

[Pel ducks in, mindful to keep from knocking over anything in the tent. She finds a seat where she can.]

First off, I suppose we're both researchers. I mean, I've read Tale of the Champion. It's only Varric's side of the story, but I know that's why you left the Dal--left your clan, [she corrects herself, reminding herself of what Sina said. She ducks her head, brow furrowing.] I...believe the reason I can be a researcher is...you. Reading about you made me realize there's no reason we can't dedicate our lives to reclaiming our history instead of simply repeating stories and nursing old wounds. I used to think you didn't really count as Dalish, but recently I decided not to go back to my clan so I could be a scholar, and a dear friend told me...she said she spoke with you, and you made her realize that we're still Keepers, but with all the People of the World as our clan. I'm not as good with words as she is, but I wanted to tell you that. You inspired other Dalish. I'm sorry you had to go through what you did, but...like Sina said, you're not alone. We're all your clan.

Edited 2016-04-09 00:27 (UTC)

[ Of all the things that she had thought Pel might have wanted to talk about, Merrill- really hadn't expected this.

She remembers her conversation with Sina, of course, but that had started out cold, the other elf angry about her perceived betrayal. But Sina had not, perhaps, heard Varric's version and, until that conversation, certainly hadn't heard Merrill's. What Pel knows is, perhaps, a mix of them. What Pel says, though -- that means far more. ]

I-

[ You inspired other Dalish, she says. You're not alone. We're all your clan. Merrill wants to respond like a First, or a Keeper, should -- but instead she finds herself crying, large tears rolling down her cheeks. ]

You- don't know how much this means, [ she manages, voice barely above a whisper. ]

I never told anyone who it would matter to, though maybe Varric said it in the book, just- did you know that I met Asha'bellanar before I left? That she told me I do the People proud? That- that was all I've had to hold onto for the past ten years.

[ If they ever find out she's Mythal, Merrill is probably going to have an actual heart attack. ]

[Pel isn't much for personal boundaries, so she reaches out to pull Merrill into a tight hug. Her social skills on this side of the world haven't developed far enough for her to have a good reason to deny a virtual stranger a hug if they need one.]

What an honor, [she says softly.] You should hold onto that. Tight as you can. You've founded something special.

[ The hug is a surprise, of course, but Merrill melts into it. Her arms wrap back around Pel, face burrowing in the crook of her neck. ]

I hold onto all of it. The good and the bad. I- know I don't always show it, I just...

open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

camp

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I KEPT READING THAT AS MERRILL HALF-BAKED CRY

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