OPEN: Cloudreach Event

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone at Skyhold
WHAT: Cloudreach showers bring weird shit.
WHEN: Cloudreach 15 onward
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: For information about the illness, its effects, and its cure, please make sure to also read the OOC Post.

This high in the mountains, snowstorms are to be expected. But this one is large and lingering, hanging over the valley and the fortress for days. In Skyhold, with its eternal spring, the snow becomes rain before it hits the ground, leaving inhabitants and visitors to wade through puddles and mud in the courtyards. In the valley, snow and ice accumulate under cloud cover—and worse, when the clouds finally thin, a whole winter's accumulation of snow begins to melt in the sunlight.

Within a day, the ground is sodden and mucky enough to give the survivors of the Fallow Mire (or Ferelden in general) unpleasant flashbacks, and those who live in tents are issued additional hastily-constructed wooden pallets to raise their floors above the mud. It is worse outside the fortress: streams and rivers have overflowed their banks, rapids run twice as fast as normal, and flash flooding has made even road travel treacherous.

On Cloudreach 17 a mudslide buries the pass into Skyhold from the west, and on the 19th a sheet of snow loosened from a mountainside collapses into the shadowed passage from the east. An Inquisition supply caravan is caught in the latter, scattering wagons and goods across the hillside and leaving a dozen people and horses in need of rescue and medical care.

Healers may find themselves stretched thin, as in addition to the usual rash of blisters and sniffles that come from days of rain and flooding, an illness begins to sweep through Skyhold's ranks from around the 16th onward. It's marked first by climbing fever, then by flashes at the edges of vision—green light and jagged formations that aren't there, beings of light and shadow gathering around people or clustering in corners—and distant voices, coherent for brief moments if you're quiet and still and not trying too hard to listen.

Comments

[rebelenchanter]

"And he needs all of the additional weight on his shoulders as well?...He's already had to carry around the burden of being the son of Maric Theirin, king of Ferelden. I wanted a normal, human, life for him...not one that would always be attached to being the son of an Orlesian, a mage, and an elf," naturally it meant something to her and the weight of her own grief was something she had carried around for years, but she carried it, "I imagine Loghain would have redoubled his efforts to have Alistair killed if he knew as well."

[disgracedchampion]

Michel Shook the blankets out and folded them down toward the end of the bed before shifting beside Zevran to sit up. He did not have a bottle of wine, but he did have a pitcher of water, a basin of water, and a soothing ointment made of elfroot, mentholated oils, and other oils with soothing and health benefits. Michel levered himself up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, water would be better for him than the wine anyway.

"Perhaps we should visit the healing tents then," he offered pouring a glass for Zevran and handing him the offering. He was completely unaware that part of what ailed him was having Michel see him this way, as it was the Chevalier felt helpless seeing Zevran this way, he was glad to have found him...even though his dreams had stirred things inside of the Chevalier.

[ombranera]

"Seven." If they are going to start counting in truth- seven layers. Not that it matters. He needs to get down to check on the Wardens, on his Kestrels. He cannot be left to it like this. "If Alistair is ill he will be insufferable."

[ombranera]

"You might have left better instructions with Eamon, then, for there was little I might find about his life that could be called 'normal'." And that's if Eamon ever gave any sort of damn about the boy in the first place. Of those he'd met in Redcliffe the only person that seemed to care? Was Teagan. "As the only one here that was in the room when Loghain made the order, and it was but the one order, to have the remaining Grey Wardens killed- it came more from Howe's mouth than his. Loghain had many weights upon his shoulders and deferred to whatever Howe deemed necessary."

[ombranera]

"Where there are more sick people? How is that going to help?" It won't, he knows it won't. He's seen plague doctors and plague tents before- he knows that what goes in may be coughing and treatable and what comes out is a corpse for a single massive pyre at the end of the day.

No thank you.

He sits up, twisting his hair in a knot off the nape of his neck to help with the sweating and heat. It works to an extent. The water he sips little by little as he focuses on not falling back over onto the bed. He's fine. He'll be fine. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

[el_tybs]

Seven? You're not helping your case, Zevran. "And you were going to do what? Take care of him if he was? You're also ill. I don't think that is going to help either of you."

[tactical_alert]

His hot face pinches in concern at her expression, however quickly it vanishes. (Despair chuckles heartily. It's found a friend in this woman.) What did he do wrong this time? Or did she happen to see something...odd around him?

He's not sure which would be worse, initially: to have something horrible from the fade taking an interest in him, or to simply not be good enough.

"I was inappropriate, before." He sounds tired. They both do. "Demanding of you. Although sometimes I think you like to be challenged like that. Plus, you ought to keep up your strength."

[rebelenchanter]

"I gave him a better life than I had, if you choose to believe it. No I did not approve of much of what Eamon did and I had to watch him grow up in letters, but his situation...could have been much different. The alternative would be letting him smother under Cailan's shadow as a rival and usurper, slandered everywhere he went...I'm aware he dealt with it enough as the truth came out. As a child?," Fiona didn't want that for Alistair either, there was no situation that would have been perfect, but Alistair was whole and healthy now. A good man. A success as a person as far as she was concerned, and that was enough, "You speak of Loghain as if he were a puppet? The man I remember, if looks could kill I would not be here for your appraisal. Loghain had Maric on a leash and he had a loathing for the Grey Wardens simply because we were from Orlais. In his eyes we'd come to Ferelden to kills Maric and make the way for Orlais, if he could have had us killed then I sincerely think he might have. It was safer for Alistair not to have any ties to Orlais."

[disgracedchampion]

"You're already sick," Michel offered, if they all had the same illness could it truly get any better or any worse sitting here? Still, he could sense that this was something that truly bothered Zevran, "what if I brought one here? Or if they had something that they could, at least, give me for the fever?"

Michel was out of his mind with not being able to do anything at all, and this was so unlike him, it put him on edge. Those dreams as well kept coming back to him, revolving in his head and perhaps he was staring at Zevran in a way that would make someone curious. He tore his gaze away after a moment pondering his hands and whether he should admit to seeing something so personal, "you had dreams while you were delirious."

[ungovernable]

The script for this is generally a bit of terribly noble protestation and back and forth; Benevenuta, rolling a little to untangle her skirts and put her bosom back where it belongs, grumbles ruthlessly, "Sacrifices must be made. For my greater good."

They are going to die here in this library. At least they will die surrounded by the only things they truly love.

[demonicbeauty]

Unsurprisingly, Ariadne had a light touch. She didn't need much more and she wanted to be gentle. Humanoids--even peculiar ones like Cole--could be awfully funny when it came to physical contact.

It was a relief to find that he wasn't feverish, but there were no guarantees.

"You should rest," she told him, fully anticipating a fight. "You're no good to anyone if you're sick too."

Dreams

[unharrowed]

Vasran doesn't know whose dreams she's seeing. She's only fairly certain they aren't her own. Feverish sleep brings few comforts — the haze of being half-awake and plagued by visions brings even less.

Magic and steel and broken, bleeding bodies. Is this the Hinterlands? As soon as she asks the question, the dream wavers and fades, only to return when her mind begins to drift. For the moment, Vasran relents to allow the dream to play out before her. This too shall pass... she hopes.

[unharrowed]

Vasran is one of the many who have relented to being tended to. When she is awake enough to see who has come to care for her, she might notice that their own eyes seem glassy or their temples dotted with sweat, but she does no more than notice it. Everyone is struggling these days, to some degree. If they can bear the work...

Her eyes are half-closed when Kallian approaches, and Vasran hears Hope first, whispering that all this is temporary.

Vasran lets out a small scoff. "What good does that do us now?" she murmurs, opening her eyes further.

[doneisdone]

"...if you're certain," Teren says, an eyebrow skeptically arched, though she's not about to argue the point with a grown and capable woman. "I'll be nearby if you should need more blankets, or what have you."

[arsebiscuit]

"Hm. You're all sicky talky."

Fever brought hallucinations. Or honesty, of a kind. Wine didn't hurt, at that. So she leaves the skin with him as she settles back into the sickness cocoon fully.

"So what's...that you're doing. With the nice talk to me."

[colecomfort]

Now a smile really does appear — Cole offers it to Fortitude. "Yes. I'm Compassion."

He hops down off the windowsill before addressing Sam again. "People are getting sick. The same people are drifting closer to the Fade — but it isn't getting any closer to us."

[kallian_endris]

She looks up, confused, until she realizes what he means.

"Oh. Ah. Jamie, this is Hope. She already knows who you are," she explains, gesturing at the spirit. "She's, ah, very bright, yes."

Kallian notices the elfroot in his hands.
"Is that for me?" She reaches to take it, hesitating short of touching him in case it's meant to go elsewhere. "Thank you."

[kallian_endris]

"Be careful listening to her. She says what she thinks you want to hear, with no regard for what is and isn't truth," Kallian remarks.

"How are you feeling, though? Do you have any pain? Is there anything you would like me to get for you?" she offers, gently dabbing a cool rag over her fellow elf's brow.

[colecomfort]

"It's like they're more real than they were before." He's interested, more than anything else, in this moment. But not all moments have been the same.

"I'm not used to hearing dreams. They're like stories you can see — songs half-formed, reflections in a rippling pool." Then, with a touch of regret: "It's hard, hearing all of them at once. I can't stay among the sick for very long."

[colecomfort]

It was true. Cole knew what corruption sounded like — the sick and dark song of red lyrium, or the howl of a demon.

He stood, pushing off one knee with his hand. "Is that what dreams always look like, to dreamers? Reflected remnants, warped and worn, or illusions brighter than what was?"

[amygdalae]

Bruce can feel it pressing at the corners of his mind, the vision enough to rose its ire and his own emotions. His mind flashes by with a series of images; chains, templars, swords and weapons and--

Not real. Bruce does his best to dispel those images before they become too prominent. He hears Anders speaking to him, and honestly Bruce just wants to shove him away and ignore him but he can't do that right now - can't afford to, anyway. He's in enough of a delicate position as it is.

"I'm fine," he says through gritted teeth. It's not entirely a lie, he would be fine--eventually. Once he had some time to keep everything back under control. It wasn't a big issue, but with all that's been happening recently he is a bit more on edge than normal.

[amygdalae]

After going through the people who needed immediate help Bruce finally let himself take a moment's rest before continuing on his work. Despite the mess at least it didn't seem that the damage was too great, although he wasn't going to be certain until all the rescued could be brought back to Skyhold proper. How long that would take, he couldn't tell.

He's taking a drink of water when he notices Seeker Pentaghast looking over in his direction, and he's confused for a moment until she approaches closer and he can see the young child held against her chest. Bruce is instantly switching gears then, putting down his water and gathering his equipment, ready to help once she came over to him.

"Of course," he returns, not missing a single beat, and gestures to the space near him where all the injured were being treated. "Lay her down here."

[colecomfort]

He's unmoored, he realizes. For a second he can feel the undertow pulling at his feet, tugging him toward them...

This isn't helping.

The dagger is sheathed, and Cole drops to his knees next to her, one hand covering hers over her hair.

"You won't. We both know it. That's what matters." It's as much to remind himself as to soothe her. His thumb runs over her knuckles. Bones and skin. Remember what's real.

[colecomfort]

His response could only be called a 'fight' in the mildest sense. He turned away, intent on moving toward the next patient, his voice all quiet assurance.

"But I'm not real. I can't be wracked like them."

[failedfirst]

"I was First in my clan and spent most of my childhood studying how to properly use plants in healing. The amount of elfroot is adequate." She looks a little offended at the insinuation she doesn't know what she's doing.

"And alcohol is the last thing you need. It dehydrates and you already look like you're going to fall over if a light breeze blows through camp." Sure she looks the same, but she's not admitting that.