faderift | OPEN: Cloudreach Event

OPEN: Cloudreach Event

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.

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"I'm finding it hard to picture than, if I am to be honest..." Michel looked at Zevran from where he sat, and as small and shapely as he was for a man...he was finding it very difficult for Zevran to pass as a woman. As a lover the Chevaier was very aware of his masculinity, though his companion seemed to carefully navigate it, it was a given that need not be spoken of. Zevran was beautiful, but it was a man's beauty.

"Hm...I prefer you just like this to be honest," his blond hair was beautiful, though Michel could not see him any other way than what he was, "but I suspect that those were intriguing times for you."

"It takes some work, of course. Painting and corseting and a rather ingenious contraption to create a false bosom, but it can be done. Perhaps when this is over and I am well again I might show you." He took pride in his skill after all, and there was something about being in a corset that made certain situations all the more sensual.

Little by little the thought ceased to warm him- or rather that was the wave of heat under his skin receding to leave him chilled. Not so much as to drag the blankets back up but more than enough to have him turning to tuck himself against Michel's chest. The man was warm, kind, and present. He would think about it later. "It certainly made the mission simpler. Get a man naked and distracted enough and he stops being quite so paranoid more often than not. Makes the kill afterward easier."

"Trying to focus on them, instead. I imagine it would be tiring, but concentrating on them makes hearing them all the more challenging." Calmly, as if she herself is not suffering the effects - she certainly doesn't look unwell, nothing aside from a little more pallor, slight shadows under her eyes, both of which she has covered very capably with make up.

Still, she quirks a brow. "I can escort you there, if you do not trust yourself to find the way."

Not trusting herself at all right now but not used to relying on others to find her way around, Korrin heaves a sigh and nods to both the advice and the offer. It's probably a better idea than insisting on finding her own way and inevitably losing it, collapsing somewhere and likely panicking Araceli in the process. If anything can get her to behave, it's that prospect.

"...not at all. Thank you, and sorry for the inconvenience. I didn't mean for this to happen, but I should've known I couldn't handle this."

The Black City? What on early had happened to Bethany to make her so convinced she could reach the Black City? "Bethany. You can't get to the Black City. This is Skyhold, not the Fade." If he was an anti-Fade shield in her eyes, maybe he could help. He held out his hand to her, something he'd never done before. "Take my hand, Bethany," he said, his voice gentler than she'd probably ever heard it. "Please."

"I will not rule it out," Leliana replies. She is tired, but even with Maria she cannot afford to let that slip through. Her make-up covers her scars, and it covers her exhaustion. Her back is straight, but her hands rest against the table, and she looks towards Maria with a concerned gaze.

"We would be naive to rule it out prematurely." A pause, measuring the state of her right hand. "How are you faring?"

"Councilor," Leliana replies, with an air of reproach that is not... unkind, even though Leliana herself is a stretched. "There is no need for such dramatic self-condemnation. We very few of us could be prepared for such events as these."

Which is why she holds some concern it was a deliberate, planned move against the Inquisition, but she will spare Korrin that for now.

"Come, this way." She is not one to take someone's arm without permission or prompting (or violence, in some cases) but she holds out her arm should Korrin be in need of some support.

He nodded his head at that, before he frowned as she asked to be somewhere out of sight. He nodded though, shifting so she could take his arm instead. He made sure she had a good grip, so she wouldn't fall over.

He nodded his head slightly, "Yes, but not in Skyhold - we've had a few too many demons popping inside the walls. At least if we attempt this outside the walls, the others will be safe, but on hand to come and get assistance as needed.

He started to lead the way across the rainy pathway to the quartermaster.

"Ha, that's what she said. And she really did! It's funny."

The laugh comes with a cough, not at all dignified or nice as Sera doesn't bother lifting her arm to cover her mouth. Just wanders up until she can sit on the edge of the great table.

"Want to know the plan. For all this sicky shit."

"Something tells me that's not what interests them," Simon said as he put the empty bowl down. It rattled slightly, Simon's own fatigue slipping through in a momentary tremor in his hands, his calm look fading with a heavy puff of breath. Zevran was far from the first patient he'd seen today and Simon wanted rest, but the Inquisition needed him awake and helping more.

"Which is fine with me," he pushed on, looking back over his shoulder to an unoccupied cot. From the corner of his eyes he saw the familiar purple skin--the desire demon probably would be interested, but Simon kept hoping that ignoring it hard enough would get it to leave. "I don't mind you watching with that in mind, you're not a spirit."

River wasn't the only one hearing voices lately. The spirits Simon picked up on only ever whispered to each other, probably about him from what he could tell, but never to him and never in a way that he could understand. They were harmless at least, the demons he thought he'd have to worry about apparently not bothering while he was awake and aware. He could pick out River's voice easily enough, clear where the spirits' were muddled, and Simon was quick to put aside the mortar and pestle. There's a good chance she wasn't talking to him at all...but it's best that he answers instead of any spirits roaming nearby.

"You haven't touched your water," Simon observed as he looked over. He'd already given her medicine a little while ago, it would work best if she could just sleep...but she was too sick and tired even for that. A familiar line of worry worked deeper into his brow as he stood, limbs aching, and crossed the distance to sit beside his sister.

Bethany jerked a little under Teren's hands, but relaxed the moment she heard that voice. "Oh, Teren, thank the Maker it's you."

She laughed weakly, letting the other woman guide her back to the tent without any fight. "Yes, all right .... a blanket sounds like a good idea, actually."

She flopped, looking up at Teren with fever-bright eyes, her forehead burning under the other woman's touch.

Korrin only reluctantly accepts it, but only because wobbling and then falling due to lightheadedness is even more undignified than what she's going through now. Even so, she makes certain to keep her hold light, determined to hold her own and not be more of a burden than she is already by virtue of her height.

A weak smile forms as she's guided away from the war room. "Please, just Korrin. It's not like the Council's in session right now." Formality isn't on her list of priorities pretty much ever, but especially like this. "Irritation tends to make me dramatic, as you saw before. I've seen a lot of weird shit all over Thedas, but nothing quite like this. I don't suppose anything you saw during your Blight travels has parallels to this at all?"

Healing Tents
Kirk is no healer. Far from it, in fact. But that is hardly enough to keep him away from the tents, from poking his head in to task if there is anything the healers need - an errand run, some cloth washed, a patient's brow pat with water. He could admit there was a little bit of selfishness in coming to ask, hating to be useless in what he thought could be considered a time of crisis. But more than that he just wanted to help. No task was beneath him, and he was more than willing to be taught how to do something as needed.

Of course, there might be an equal chance he gets chased off if he proves to be to under foot.

Around Skyhold
He would have thought rain would slow life down at Skyhold, but that just wasn't so. Work still needed to be done, and even when it wasn't raining it was gloomy which did nothing for the mood. He took his cue from the people and kept at his work and his own routines. When he wasn't at risk of getting soaked he would do his runs around Skyhold and go to the training grounds. He didn't precisely use a weapon, but he found ways to practice his hand-to-hand. He didn't want those skills going rusty any time soon, especially here. Hard rain always seemed a good time to go work around Sam's forge and clean as he had bargained with him. And of course the tavern - always the tavern.

Never mind that he didn't feel at one hundred percent, that there were times he thought he heard or saw things and just chalked it up to being in a strange place and the weather bringing down his mood. He told himself that was why he had the fits of being so sleepy, of the draining tiredness that made it so easy to lay down and rest where usually he struggled...

Dreams
When he sleeps, he dreams. They are different than usual, and even when he wakes he can only cling to fragments of them - even those he would simply rather let go.

There are moments of happiness - looking out across a silver room with flickering lights and people in various colors of shirt, a scenery of stars displayed on a screen. Laughter, the clink of glasses, a man with a rich southern drawl, another with pointed ears and short brows with an impassive face. Bodies - handsome men and beautiful ladies (or sometimes it was hard to tell), tangles of limbs and mouths and - tails? Tails.

And then there were the darker ones - the face of a man, cheekbones dangerously sharp and eyes hard and cruel, a killing intent rolling off him, a wicked smile across his lips. Another man, older, silver hair, blood on chest and lips, Kirk's hand grasping his shirt and the sound of sobbing. A sphere against a sea of stars, crumbling, disappearing into itself. A hand pressed to glass, another hand meeting it....

Needless to say, he tries to avoid sleep, because the bad comes more often than the good.

Maybe if he was around people he would feel less sleepy, would have more reason to force himself to stay awake and not drift off. He knew he probably should sleep, especially when he thought he was seeing things - figures, perhaps - but the dreams left him feeling worse. So he headed into the tavern, seeking warmth from the crap weather and something to warm his bones.

Looking across the crowd he picks out the familiar face of Sam, and... something else. He squints, not sure if his mind is playing tricks on him or something else. It looked like Sam was talking to someone - to the thing? He ran a hand through his hair and went to the bar to drab a mug and made his way over.

"Hey, fancy meeting you here," he tried for his usual charm though it came off a bit more hollow, purposefully ignore the presence.

Kirk approached the healing tents, feeling a little under the weather, but not nearly enough to complain of it. Others were much worse than him, and he was not about to waste a healer's time with mild aches and pains. Instead he approached Adelaide, who seemed to him to have an air of authority or at least purpose, and inclined his head in a greeting, forgoing his usual charm for seriousness.

"Is there anything you need, miss?" he asked her. "Low on any supplies?" He looked her over and his mouth twitched a little in a fraction of a smile. "Perhaps a cup of tea?"

“I don’t care which ones they are as long as they’re silent!” Kain pounds a first on the pillow angrily because she’s right, of course, he doesn’t dare to leave this place even if he were able to do so. It’s too dangerous. He’s terrified of these spirits, truthfully, and would much rather be having plain old hallucinations than this.

He sprawls out, moaning quietly, feeling like hell at the moment. “This is interrupting my training… I need to get back out there.” He’s got to practice if he wants to be prepared for fully becoming a Reaver, after all. Of course, he’s in no condition whatsoever for such grueling training. Even in top shape, he’s been coming back daily with plenty of bruises and so on.

"...to be honest I had not considered such a thing until this moment." It is terribly convenient, but it also only just occurred with the weather. It would be easy enough to write this off as that were it not for the hallucinations.

"That explains why my dreams took such a turn, I suppose." They often do if she takes more than an hour or two at a stretch- at least as of late. She's become grimly resigned to it; more than that leads only to deeper and darker places.

Lingering is tempting- but there is work. No matter how charming the kitten. Adelaide smooths her hand against Purrelden's fur one last time before taking Anders' to pull herself up.

"It is a hard life, being a kitten."

By all means he should be in his room attempting sleep, but as tired as he is he just cannot seem fall asleep. At least not right away, laying awake staring at the ceiling until exhausting himself only to wake up several hours later to do it all again. Tonight he's hoping that with a little bit to drink it will help with the whole process.

At hearing a voice off to his side, Sam is slow to look, but when he does and sees the familiar charming face of one particular captain, he sits up a bit straighter. Turning in his chair to look more straight forward to the other man he smiles tiredly then leans his head in his palm.

"Yeah, fancy me coming to the only place to get a drink," he says with tired amusement, oblivious to Fortitude's movements behind him.

Any other time and Korrin might have teased Kain for his dramatics, but all this has worn her patience down and she's in no mood to contradict him. There's a soft, annoyed huff of agreement. "I know, right? It's not like Corypheus is going to care and allow us the extra time, were he to find out. Andraste's tits, if he did, he could easily wipe us out now. He wouldn't even need that archdemon or dragon or whatever it is."

Rachette peers at the voice, at the qunari slid down on her tabletop, and after a moment decides to slip from her seat to the one across Korrin. "I don't think they're listening very well. And you look like you shouldn't be here." Hey, she calls 'em likes she sees 'em.

"If it was just a little rain, I might leave you to it." She shifts, lifting her feet from the puddles and collecting mud starting to wash up on what paths there are that aren't already mud pits. "This is more than a little rain. It's unreasonable." Although if you asked her, water falling so heavily from the sky is also, generally, an unreasonable thing. "And you're just going to exhaust yourself fighting...someones. Some nothings."

"I don't believe you're fine any more than you do." They are, after all, cut from some very similar cloth. He knows he isn't fine but will wave off anyone who suggests otherwise. Just because he isn't fine doesn't mean he can't still work. There are those worse off than he is. "And if you think others can't tell, then you're even more stubborn than you'd have everyone believe. I'm not saying hole up in the healer tents. They've enough on their plates as it is. Merely...pointing it out."

"Yes," She muses darkly, "You are both completely fine. That much is readily apparent."

She has to move them, that much is clear. But how, and where, are another matter entirely, especially if they are determined to do otherwise.

"Come on. You both need to be in bed, or you'll do yourself harm. Dorian's room is closest."

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OPEN: Cloudreach Event

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let's goooo wiiitthhh early

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Re: CSF

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Around Skyhold x Wildcard?

Healing Tents

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