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

At the end of the Illness, after Maxwell's Fever breaks

[slipshot]

It had been several days, but people were finally starting to recover. Maxwell had been sleeping the last several hours, and Gavin had fallen asleep next to him - head resting on his arm against the bed, sitting on a stool he had managed to scrounge from somewhere. He woke first, feeling Maxwell stirring, and sat up, blinking.

"Maxwell? Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

[dreadinquisitor]

Days of fever and sweats that left him weak and shuttering. Days of sights and sounds only he could hear, leaving him wondering after his sanity... Maxwell wasn't sad to it see go. However dry and cracked his mouth felt, how his Adam's apple seemed to grind in the dust of his throat. At least all he could see were the familiar walls of his room, and Gavin, tired, but wonderfully real beside him.

He blinked blearily and tried to work himself up onto his elbows.

"...Water?" he croaked.

[slipshot]

"Of course," He murmured, quickly stepping over to where a jug of water lay, filling a glass and returning.

"You should sit up," He added, frowning, holding the glass in one hand as he grabbed a pillow in the other. "Here - I'll put this behind your back--"

[dreadinquisitor]

It took some effort, but he managed to - for the first time in days - get himself upright, bending forward until Gavin slipped the pillow behind him and he could lean back with a sigh.

"Thank you--" he rasped, holding out his then free hands to take the glass.

The water was cold, so cold against his so dry throat - it almost hurt. But the edge was quickly followed by relief, and he swallowed deeply. Again and again, until he'd reached the bottom and he had to gasp for a breathe.

[slipshot]

"Easy - Easy, Maxwell, you'll hurt yourself," Gavin said, worry creasing his brow, his hand resting on Maxwell's shoulder to steady him.

"There's plenty more, but - please take it slowly."

[dreadinquisitor]

Already worn out from just holding the water filled cup aloft, his arm dropped heavily, empty glass at his side as he breathed. Deep, full breaths. Through his mouth first, then through his nose, as his heart steadied and he relaxed.

His immediate, desperate concern seen too.

Then he was free to turn his eyes to the elf beside him, gaze still tired, but clearer than it had been. Actually, truly, seeing Gavin for the first time.

After a moment, he smiled, his head turning to rest his cheek against the pillow.

"You're actually here."

[slipshot]

"I've been here a couple of days," Gavin replied, offering Maxwell a tired smile in return as he gently retrieved the glass and put it safely aside.

"But you ... haven't really been fully aware of much."

[dreadinquisitor]

His mouth pursed gently, eyes closing slightly.

"I saw you..." he murmured, gaze slowly following every movement Gavin made. "I just didn't know if that was only because I wanted to."

Among all the things he didn't, and wished he hadn't.

His hand turned, palm up, offering.

"...Are you alright?"

[slipshot]

He shuffled closer, taking the hand and raising it to his face, letting it cup his jaw gently as he closed his eyes and leaned into it. The touch was warm, but not nearly as warm as Maxwell's hands had been, the last few days. It was a relief.

"I'm fine." It wasn't true, exactly, but it was true enough. "I'm just glad that you're doing better. I was worried."

[dreadinquisitor]

"Me too." His thumb moved in a gentle stroke over Gavin's cheek. "...I wanted to be there when you got out. I'm sorry I wasn't."