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

Closed - Multiple

[colecomfort]

It was different than it had been before: it came on slowly, distant through a fog, a song that would hum in his ear every so often like a passing insect. It was as if spirits were gathering, pressing close to a Veil that had worn thin...

Only it wasn't. The song drifted by, then departed, shifting in and out like a tide. Meanwhile, people kept getting sick. Cole did what he could, drifting through the healing tents and offering a cold cloth here, a sip of water there, filling in the gaps of care to make sure the ill were as comfortable as they could be.

Until there were too many of them. Until he couldn't set foot near the tents without feeling the fever flare across his skin, or a sympathetic lurch in his stomach. Even if he could allow himself to be pulled forward despite that (it was only their pain he was feeling; he couldn't fall ill himself... at least, he didn't think so), the experience became particularly disturbing when he moved too close to someone whose eyes were closed, skittering behind the lids.

That was when he could hear their dreams.

[Ariadne]

Ariadne would come across him in one of the tents, kneeling at the side of one of the sleeping ill, holding a cold cloth to their forehead. He was rocking slightly, gently, back and forth, a tree swaying in the breeze, and muttering urgently under his breath:

"Climb the cliff, carry the water, don't spill a drop. Must be careful, must keep moving. See the sun breaking over the edge, oh — not much further, now..."

[River]

The swirl of spirits around River was louder than the rest. It always had been: only now, they were more like a chattering whirlwind, spinning around her and cooing and trying to press against her mind. They were so loud, Cole didn't see how she could keep from getting lost in the Fade — even if it was mostly his own fear that made him raise his voice when he approached.

"Leave her alone!" he tried to command them, even drawing his dagger — but they paid him no mind.

[Solas]

There was only so long he could stand it before he had to peel himself away from all of them: still in a trance, his feet carrying him (it seemed) separate from any conscious thought. Nothing but the instinct to move away, to be somewhere else.

The fog and the fever draw back, leaving a cold realization: he couldn't do anything more for them.

He couldn't simply go off and be by himself. He needed someone to help him make sense of this. So he followed the sense of still, quiet waters, until he found Solas, appearing crouched at his side.

"Drifting through dreams, asleep and awake. Glittering glimmer in the silence, in the heat, hush, listen but don't try to touch. They won't hear you... I heard the spirits speaking, like they do. I couldn't make it stop."

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne knew precious little about medicine. But she had strong arms and an almost-strong back and she knew how to fetch and carry just as well as anyone else. Outbreaks weren't uncommon in the refugee camps back home, so she knew what to do. Even if this wasn't exactly like other outbreaks she'd seen before.

Throughout the days, she darted back and forth from the medical tents, doing whatever she could.

She had to admit though, it didn't feel like she was doing nearly enough. Or much of anything at all.

Cole was a surprising sight. And then not at all surprising. She was on her way with an armload of fresh linens when she saw him. And heard him too. Uncertainly, she took a few steps in his direction. She didn't want to disturb him, if he was reciting some kind of healing spell. But she listened carefully.

[colecomfort]

"Up and over. Safe in the sunlight. Walk on, to where? It doesn't matter, but we have to keep moving..."

His free hand was curled around the hand of the dreamer. It shifted, grip adjusting, but still holding tight. Cole sensed someone next to him, in the real, physical space — Breathe. Feel the earth. Remember what is real.

His voice steadied. He knew he was talking to someone other than himself, now.

"Dreams that drift them away when they're not trying. Seeing through spaces, but I can't sense them." Frustration there, even as he gingerly moved a bit of hair away from the person's forehead.

[demonicbeauty]

Not a spell, then. Not an incantation.

Carefully, Ariadne made her way over, putting her fingertips lightly on Cole's elbow. She could almost see the frustration rising off of him, like heat off of the stones. Not that she entirely understood it. But sometimes, you didn't have to understand. Sometimes, you just had to be there for a friend.

And she was reasonably sure that he was a friend now.

"Are they hallucinating?" she asked quietly.

[colecomfort]

The cloth was starting to get warm. Cole lifted it, giving the patient's forehead another dab, giving his own head a slight shake.

"They're dreaming." Another loose thread of the dream caught at him, and quickly, quietly, he added: "Scrubby plants, no water for days, we might have to drink..."

[demonicbeauty]

"A desert?" Ariadne offered.

She immediately regretted it. It seemed like a silly thing to say, only...well. The patient didn't look like the only one who needed help right now.

Gently, she reached out to touch the patient's forehead. Warmer than a desert. She leaned over and gently blew between her lips, across the surface of his skin. Just the way her father used to, when he was trying to soothe her to sleep in the humidity of the rainforest.

"Do you know what's causing all of this?" she asked Cole.

[colecomfort]

He shook his head again.

"They're just drifting, feverish, toward the Fade." His head turned a little, his ear turning toward another of the sick that were being held in the tent. "I reached for her hand, though I would have touched her lips — wouldn't you want to do so much more?"

[demonicbeauty]

Pursing her lips, Ariadne turned fully to Cole. "Cole," she said, very, very gently, in a certain way she had, "will you let me feel your forehead?"

She reached out slowly, holding out her fingertips toward him, uncertain how he would react.

[colecomfort]

He paused, turned his face toward her — confused, but complying all the same.

His forehead would be warm. Perhaps a little warmer than might be expected, but not to the level of those that were bedridden.

[singularwill]

"Hello, Cole." Cole's speech patterns don't bother him - they never have. Instead they are just a mark of his pure form - thought and speech mingled as one.

"It is not yours to make them stop," He said, turning to look at him as he stood up from his patient. "This is not a simple problem, offering a simple solution. No trick of the Veil - it is as strong here as it ever was."

[colecomfort]

Cole canted his head so that he was looking down at the patient.

"Yes." He'd known something was different about all this. The visions of the Fade had all been filtered through the fog and the fever — no less troubling once there were suddenly so many of them.

"The Fade isn't any closer to us. They're getting closer to it." His hands worried with one another, fingers pulling at stray threads on his gloves. "Slipping into spaces where they shouldn't be."

[singularwill]

"Yes," Solas agrees, his brows furrowing, reaching out to touch the forehead of the patient - clammy and far too warm. "I admit I have never seen anything like it."

It was not something that could have happened, in his youth.

"But the spirits don't seem as if they are... any closer to touching them, as it were. Perhaps they merely gather because they find it so interesting to be able to hear what they otherwise would not." He turned his head to Cole, looking at him. "How do you feel, Cole?"

[colecomfort]

His hands continued their fiddling, occasionally pulling on a finger.

"It's — hard," he admitted with some hesitance, "being too close to too many at once. They start to blur together. I could see the spaces — I didn't try to follow, but I was afraid I might fall through."

[singularwill]

Solas reached out, placing a hand on Cole's shoulder, as if to ground him, and offered him a small, sympathetic smile.

"You are here." It was both a reminder, and happy truth. "You will remain here as long as you wish to. You cannot fall through - you cannot return, unless you decide to do so."

[colecomfort]

The ways in which Cole relaxed in response to the encouragement might have been imperceptible to someone who didn't know how to look for them. Some of the tension left his shoulders under Solas' hand, and the motions of his fingers became less frantic, more idle. He looked from Solas to the prone figure in front of them.

"I watched them as they were dreaming." That part of things seemed interesting now that he thought back on it, despite the distress. "The spirits were showing them parts of memories, or things that almost might have been."

[singularwill]

"Interesting." It wasn't a dismissive word - it really was interesting, but it was something that Solas was going to have to think on, more in depth.

"I wonder... It doesn't seem a natural state, that much I think is clear. Is there anything else that you feel, here? Something - different, not necessarily with the Veil? Something different with the sick, perhaps?"

[colecomfort]

"With them, yes." He continued to stare at the sleeping patient, through them. "They're different. Drifting. Not the sickness, but something inside."

That was as clear as he could make it. He kept on staring, hoping something else might illuminate itself.

[girlinthebox]

They've always been there, though her sense for them has grown over the years. Some are harmless, simply there to observe, and some to try and reach out and touch. Grasping, greedy, gluttonous things seeking power and skin to walk in. But Cole's dagger will do little good here, no matter how big he makes himself to try and scare them away.

River takes as deep a breath as she can before stirring, damp hair still hanging into her eyes. Slowly she reaches up from the cool stone she's found to press herself to, fingers curling at Cole's sleeve. "Come back," she croaks, her voice dry and her face flush with fever. "I won't speak to them, not right now. I've already got you for company...it'd be rude."

One way of keeping the spirits at bay.

[colecomfort]

He can't touch them, the Veil still divides them, but they're here, and they want to hurt her. He can't do nothing, but he doesn't know what. His grip tightens on the hilt of the knife —

Then her hand tugs on his sleeve. Then he realizes he would have to drop the dagger in order to hold her hand.

He can't touch them. Can't save her with a blade... And it's still frustrating, looking up and knowing he can't banish them for good.

"They don't understand that you won't help them hurt people." He's talking himself down, but it's still a shame. "We can't tell them, so they won't go away."

[girlinthebox]

"They're always there. Even with the curtains drawn. And I won't..."

Her hand falls away, presses to the side of her head not currently lying against the stone floor, tugging briefly at her hair.

"I won't help. I won't do what they want. Wanting. Smiling wide. Petting my hair like a dog. Good girl, pretty girl, wouldn't you like it to stop?"

Her stomach gives an unpleasant little lurch, and she goes quiet again.

[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.

[girlinthebox]

There's a hum, like she's agreeing with him, then another, strung together in a broken little melody that she can't remember words to, but it's something else to focus on. They're noisy, noisesome, bothersome, they should go away but they won't.

She curls under Cole's hand, taking a sibilant breath.

"Slipping, sliding, slithering loose where it stayed strung, but you won't drown. The lake's frozen over. We're on this side now."

[colecomfort]

It helps, hearing it from someone else. He's had to keep reminding himself. He's not the one being pulled, loosened, unraveled.

He's used to it being easier than this. But then, he still has echoes of the last time he was forced into the Fade rattling around inside.

"I got pulled under, once before." His eyes slip from her to the stones, remembering. "Shoved back into smaller spaces, trapped in the tangle." What comes next is a firm, deliberate assertion, one more reminder: "This... isn't like that."

[girlinthebox]

"It's not. It's not...knots. Knotting. Not binding but an anchor."

Her dark eyes shift upwards, staring into his pale ones like she can see past them, to all the things lurking around them and lying in wait, eager to touch and pull. But they can't. They're awake and aware, more aware even if it means feeling slightly floppy and gross.

There's a deeper breath, her cheek pressing to the stone, trying to soak in the cold. "Not their toys," she mumbles, a little slurred.

[colecomfort]

He touches her other cheek with the back of his fingers. Cool, dry skin, compared to hers.

"No," he agrees. "Not their flesh to twist, or minds to bend."

His hand can only do so much to cool her — when it starts feeling too warm, he moves it again, brushing sticky strands of hair away from her forehead. That song she was humming... it was pulled from a time before all the pain. Before Tevinter.

"The market square in Cumberland," he murmured, following the memory. "The minstrel had a dancing dog."