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

[laurenande]

"I had never noticed before...that stone holds a chill so easily," Galadriel admitted distractedly and cast a glance at the hall around them. Her arm settled over Ellana's shoulder and, thoughtlessly, Galadriel drew the elf against her side. "Why men are so enamored of dead stone, I suspect I will never know."

She glanced down, then, at Ellana who had helped to steady her, and her brow furrowed just slightly. She had asked her a question--was she in pain?

"Do not worry. I am not in pain," Galadriel assured her but, distracted as she was, she would not resist Ellana's urging one direction or another. "I am merely cold and weary and given to wandering--"

The word drew her up short and, for a second Galadriel was struck silent. The moment passed and, as it did, Galadriel's easy smile was replaced by something more somber.

"They watch me too closely, mellon nin, and I am not myself. I doubt I would be able to slip from sight as I am, and I would likely be...unkind if forced to remain. I will find no rest with the clanking of plate and mail alongside me."

[serannas]

"It has its uses. It can construct a place of safety, for one." She placed a hand on Galadriel's wrist and the other arm stretched around her back to help her friend walk.

Ellana couldn't help but match Galadriel's somber expression. Something about her regal bearing seemed dimmed now, and it was hard to take in. Maybe it was better for Ellana to experience it; to get this notion out of her head that Galadriel was some sort of goddess walking among them, but it was also a cruel thought. Seeing Galadriel like this meant seeing her ill, and in a manner she probably didn't want. Ellana shook herself from the thought and kept leading her towards the healers'.

"That sounds awful. But once we get you to the healers' tent, they'll have to remain outside. I'm sure of it."

[laurenande]

"Ah I hope you are right," Galadriel lamented but was in no state to resist Ellana's guiding hands. She had no qualms about holding the shorter elf close to her side, though, not as they walked through the Keep, toward the kitchens and, subsequently the courtyard where the healers' tents resided. Ellana was, at once, the warmest thing near to her and a comfort and, for all her distance and aloof nature, she had already begun to miss the sensation of touch.

It was ridiculous, of course, she was tens of thousands of years old. A few months in Thedas was hardly measurable against the whole of her life, but she had rarely gone so long without an embrace. She sighed, with the swell of melancholy, and lacked the restraint to catch the sound before it left her, wistful and sad as it was.

"It is hard to find rest in these lands, Ellana," Galadriel explained, still drowsy and half herself. "Stay with me, if you would? There are so few here that I truly trust, and fewer still who hold so much of my regard as you.

"I am running out of friends, it seems, and I have yet to make many more in Thedas."

[serannas]

Ellana smiled faintly, but Galadriel's words -- while full of praise -- also saddened her. The imprisonment had kept Galadriel from making friends, and some she would have made were probably too afraid to run afoul of the Seeker by doing so.

"I'll stay and watch over you. I promise." She would need to sit anyway, unused to helping so tall a person walk.

[laurenande]

Galadriel was mollified, for the moment, but in her melancholy she still held Ellana a bit closer than was strictly necessary--or, for that matter, advisable given that her own coordination was shot and Ellana was considerably shorter than she. They made it outside, into the muddied landscape of the fortress and, with only a few stops to prevent Galadriel collapsing into the mud and taking Ellana with her, arrived in the healing tents.

Galadriel gave the location an assessing look, one that could only be deemed 'pained' but made no objection as Ellana led her to an empty cot out of sight of the entry. Mercifully, her guard had not seen them traverse the courtyard and, as such, had not attempted to follow them into the tents.

"How do mortals tolerate this?" Galadriel asked as she took a seat on the cot and a great shiver suddenly wracked her. She was so tall and willowy that, for a moment, she resembled a tree caught in a gale.

[serannas]

"I suppose because we must," Ellana reasoned, sitting on the edge of the cot. "Why don't you lie down and I'll find you a blanket?" Her hands caught up Galadriel's and she tried to warm them as best she could by rubbing her skin against her friend's. This illness was worrisome for several reasons, but one was definitely the fact that it could take a turn for the worse quickly and there wouldn't be enough healers to deal with it all. Many times throughout the last several days, Ellana had been reminded of the plague that swept through Clan Ashara long ago and took so many before their time, her parents included.

"I'll be right back. I promise. I won't go far."

[laurenande]

Galadriel did as Ellana bade but, as she reclined on the cold cot, a strange surge of emotion welled in her. Within moments, surrounded by other beds and quiet patients, she found herself feeling miserable and alone. Misery and loneliness were hardly new sensations, but she was exhausted, and they stung more sharply than they otherwise might have. Fortunately, Galadriel had learned, long ago, how to avoid sinking into such thoughts. She cast them aside on reflex but, as she ignored her heard and passed into sleep, she reached for a hand that wasn't there.

It was a silly thing, seeking out her husband's hand when she knew full-well that he was not present in these lands, but she was feverish and apart from herself. Her hand found nothing as she reached out, but the lack of a grip to steady hers was not as jarring as it might've been. She was so weary that, as the pang of longing entered her mind, the whole of her tumbled into dreams.

When Ellana returned, her seat on the edge of the cot was occupied. In her stead there sat a tall elf with broad shoulders and straight silver hair. His clothing was alike to Galadriel's but it was hazy along the edges, ill-defined where it fell into shadow. His expression was soft but unreadable; his features were clear but, in the end, he was little more than a phantom.

At the very least, he was holding her hand.

[serannas]

It was only once Ellana got up and left the tent that she began to feel a little off herself. Perhaps it was the exertion of helping Galadriel through the rain down to the healers? She pressed a hand to her forehead, but wasn't sure if she was just overheated, or running a fever. She couldn't worry about it now. Instead, she moved to find a healer who could provide an extra blanket. It took longer than she wanted, since everyone was so busy, but once the blanket was obtained, she rushed back to Galadriel, stopping short when she saw someone already there. That... couldn't have been one of the healers, could it?

No, his garb was too alike to Galadriel's and Thranduil's, and his ears matched theirs too. And yet... he looked blurry to her. She blinked a few times, but the blurriness remained. Oh, no, she really was running a fever too, wasn't she? Shifting from one foot to the other, Ellana was unsure if approaching would cause his image to dissipate. She wanted to cover Galadriel with the blanket, but this felt too much like intruding.

[laurenande]

Celeborn, or the sense of him, lasted for some time before he faded. Even when she was well, Galadriel's dreams were inconsistent and fickle; with her fever, all that was required to dispell the phantom and the thought of her husband was a trickle of shivering cold. It came over her soon enough and, as she withdrew her hand toward her chest, the elf at her bedside faded away, like clearing mist.

Ellana was not nearly as ill as the others who had come across a feverish Galadriel, but her dreams were persistent and the spirits that gathered on the edge of them lent them some strength. In other places, the walls of the keep and shadows had bent around them, the Ancient world had manifested itself in the haze of dreaming, but in the tents the effect was far more subtle.

Only the distant hints of a forest, the pervasive feel of ancient trees and songbirds, crept into the waking world. Out of the corner of an eye, dappled light danced over old stone, but both were forgotten under the full weight of waking scrutiny. There was a chill to it, to the facets of her dream and whether it was real or imagined, even in sleep, Galadriel found it disconcerting.

[serannas]

Once the image of the elf faded away, Ellana came forward to cover Galadriel with the blanket. Then she took her place where Celeborn had sat, feeling a heaviness come over her limbs. Her head bowed forward slightly and she drew in a slow breath. She needed to keep a clear mind for as long as she could, in order to look after others. Whispers carried through the air, but she ignored them in favor of tucking the blanket under Galadriel's chin.

She got the sense that something was different -- not wrong -- but merely out of place. There was a sense that she was outside instead of in the tent, and that gave her a little chill. She wanted to be warm with walls around her. Yet at the same time, there was the brief feeling on familiarity, like she was back at camp with the clan. But when she turned her head, the feelings associated with the forest melted away. So she sat vigil over her friend, hoping the blanket helped her.

[laurenande]

The blanket took the edge off of Galadriel's chill, but the process was slow. Ellana's vigil was a quiet one but, as it stretched on, the sense of old stone and spring frost crept back into the tents. The bite of the cold was gone, imagined though it was, and eventually the indistinct aura of forests and stone walls gave way to sound. The rush of leaves, far more than could be found in Skyhold, whispered outside the tents, the patter of light rain masked the incongruous sound of far off songbirds, and eventually Galadriel's own voice cut in.

Galadriel, however, was still very much asleep.

The phantom voice was hushed but not distant. She spoke softly but with some enthusiasm and the very moment she stopped speaking another voice joined hers. The second was masculine and calm, but otherwise very difficult to describe. Dreaming distorted both of them, wrapped them in warm nostalgia as they spoke, but they were beautiful. Their language was lilting, if indecipherable, and there was a certain humor to their exchange. There was an inflection, there, an ease to the conversation that spoke of youth and intimacy.

For a time there was only sound and the pressing sense of Doraith but, drifting in the edges of perception, it was easy to slip closer to dreams. It was easy to see the pair conversing just on the other side of the cot, to catch Galadriel's face alight with laughter or Celeborn's gentle smile, to see just how terribly close they stood, fingers interlaced loosely between them.

[serannas]

Ellana was drawn in to the conversation, head feeling heavy and body swaying slightly along with the words she couldn't comprehend. Galadriel sounded so relaxed, so happy, and it reminded Ellana of the way her own voice sounded when she was with Felix. Her eyes drifted shut as the conversation continued, until Galadriel laughed and it jolted Ellana out of her near-sleeping state. She looked around, and spotted the pair of elves as if they were really there beside the cot, though there was a fuzziness to their edges.

Youthful, happy, carefree. With all that Galadriel had told her, Ellana knew that Arda had its share of wars and danger, but these two had stolen a happy moment for themselves, and a smile touched her lips. She swayed again, but otherwise didn't move as she watched the happy couple. She wanted to remember how they looked.