faderift | And as we wind on down the road

And as we wind on down the road

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: The Herald of Andraste is laid to rest, and the remains of the Inquisition try to put on a good face for their visitors. Some of them try, anyway.
WHEN: Harvestmere 26
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: n/a

The day after the mysterious strangers from the rift arrive, the Herald's body is delivered back to Skyhold. At first, there is doubt-- the timing is convenient, finally found the very day the funeral is to take place, and many still cling to hope that the Herald has somehow survived. Most, but not all, are appeased by news that the Inquisition's chief advisers have all confirmed the identity of the deceased. Preparations are accelerated: what was once to be a symbolic memorial now requires actual rites, and while some prepare the body others break down whatever can be spared for the pyre, constructed in the center of the main courtyard by another crew.

The funeral itself is a somber affair, as funerals generally are. The Great Hall has been cleared and swept but little else-- all attendees stand, and they are lucky it is a clear day, since the late afternoon sun streams in through the gaping holes in the roof. The service proceeds along strictly traditional Andrastian lines, stately and stiff. Mother Giselle provides the service and the sermon, focusing on duty, sacrifice, and the Maker's plan and concluded with a recitation of Transfigurations 10:1 by the whole assemblage. It is all very predictable, but sincerely delivered. Cassandra and Cullen lead the honor guard. It is a mismatched collection of visiting dignitaries, suspicious observers, pilgrims, colleagues, and companions that slowly process up to pay their silent respects as Evelyn Trevelyan lies in state. Some may notice that the body has been carefully arranged to disguise the fact that her left hand is gone. As night falls they light candles and then the pyre, and as the flames catch and lick up toward the star-washed sky, Mother Giselle sings a haunting version of the Chantry hymn The Dawn Will Come.

The wake that follows is less staid. It seems as if every table and chair in the castle has been dragged into The Herald's Rest and the courtyards and every hidden store of fine wine and food has been dug out from Josephine's secret stores to impress the more exalted visitors. This isn't just a funeral, after all, but a political occasion, an opportunity to demonstrate that the Inquisition lives on beyond the loss of its first symbolic leader, and that it can still be a force for peace and unity.

That impression is dented as the night wears on, and opinions and stories get shared more and more loudly. Someone hops up on a table to give their own little eulogy and others follow suit. Of course eventually it turns sour-- a templar gets up and starts blaming the mages for killing the Herald just like they killed the Divine, and mages at the next table shout back. He's hauled down before things can escalate, but grumbling and dirty looks are unlikely to be the last of it.

The event carries on into the wee hours, and noise echoes around the stone walls loudly enough to make it difficult for any to sleep early. One team of Inquisition scouts and soldiers comes out of the barn to complain more than once, and eventually move their bedrolls down into a basement hall, growling about how they have to be up at the crack of dawn to head out on a mission to scout some Maker-forsaken bog of all the places. (Mire, one of them corrects.)

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[Bruce isn't really one to go near the tavern. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that he had been helping out near the entrance of the tavern, he wouldn't even be in the area.

Maybe it is for the better that he was around, because it seemed like things were going to get bad very, very fast.

He hears the accusations - monster, murderer, abomination - and they sting, and in the darkness he flinches, even though they're not directed at him. Still the emotions come, that all too familiar feeling of guiltpainhate that Bruce relates to himself far too much.

Before he can get too lost in his own head, however, the commotion only seems to increase, and Bruce looks up to see a familiar elf seemingly in a spot of trouble. Without thinking twice he gets up and goes to the scene, stopping behind the Templar who was blocking her.]

Ser, please--let's not make this situation any worse than it is.

[The templar turns to him with a black look.]

How dare you, [she growls.] We are the protectors. We restore order. How dare you lecture me.

[Pel had been thisclose to making her getaway, but with someone else in the equation now, she can't just magic her way out and abandon him. She switches tacks. Her voice drops, icy.]

You don't believe I killed the Divine. If you did, you wouldn't be standing in my way.

[Wrong thing to say. The templar has something to prove. She turns around. To say she pushes or shoves Pel gives the wrong impression. It's the heel of her hand cracking against the elf's sternum and knocking her back several steps till she falls hard on her hip with the breath knocked out of her.]

[Bruce doesn't say a word when the Templar turns back spits back at his face, knowing that responding wouldn't do him any good now. He's fully intent on just calling the elf over when instead she speaks up, and even before the Templar reacts Bruce already has had a bad feeling about it.]

Ser, don't-- [He starts, but the Templar shoves at the elf before he can finish and Bruce watches as she tumbles onto the ground none too gently. But even then the Templar doesn't stop, advancing forward with a fist drawn back, ready to strike.

A memory flashes in the back of his mind.

There's the loud echo of a fist connecting, but no elf takes the blow. Instead Bruce had all but thrown himself in the way, taking the hit meant for her. The force of the blow has him stumbling back, but he doesn't fall down. He stays where he is, his gaze boring straight into the Templar even as the side of his forehead throbbed from the punch he had taken, his usual awkwardness replaced with something unyielding.]

If 'restoring order' meant 'punching whoever you feel like', then by all means, I'll take the blows instead. [His voice is unnaturally steady as he speaks, the calm before the storm, the eye of a raging hurricane.] But don't confuse your anger with justice, and use 'justice' as an excuse to vent your frustrations.

[ That is more than enough to see.

He steps forward to grab the arm of the Templar who threw the punch. ] The healer is right. [ It may be the armor that still names him as Knight-Commander, but it is his rage that allows him to bring the woman's hand down on the table. ] You stuck one that we are supposed to be protecting. He is doing your job better than you are doing your own.

And he speaks better than what you could have said. [ Stannis all but talks over her as he lifts his head up to look toward the elfin mage that had been threatened, had been placed into his situation. The anger does not fade as he states calmly to her -- with his other hand to take a dagger that he keeps on his person free. The sword has been left behind in honor of the Herald but he would not give up all weapons. ]

A Templar that acts his way should not be allowed to carry their weapon. Your thumb and index shall suffice as I cannot take away your lyrium. But the wounded parties should speak first ... and speak quickly.

[Pel heard the blow connect, bracing for it, and gasped when she didn't feel it. She saw Bruce stagger, saw him stand his ground nonetheless, and watched with an open mouth as Stannis berated the templar woman. It's hard to think past the sweet innocent shy healer took a punch for me I can take care of myself why wtf I should have just left should have until Stannis mentions forefinger and thumb.]

No! [Holy shit, templars are crazy. One drunken brawl and he's talking about permanently removing an able soldier from the Inquisition? She can only think of pain, infection, a long recovery, breeding ground for further resentment toward the person who let it happen.]

Elgar'nan, [she growls, climbing to her feet with some difficulty, as if the momentum of being pushed is still working against her], and you lot call the Dalish barbarians. Go to bed, all of you. Sleep it off. Bruce, are you bleeding? Let me take a look at you.

[Bruce is in total agreement with Pel's comments on the matter. As unreasonable as the Templar had been, there was no reason to instantly jump to amputation.

She speaks before Bruce can interject, and at her question quickly shakes his head, doing his best not to wince too obviously.]

I'm fine. [And he made sure to angle himself to take the blow in the way where he wouldn't bleed - if he were things would have gone downhill very quickly earlier.

He won't stop her from giving him a look over if it would reassure her, though. But before that he glances towards the Knight-Commander, the steadiness in his voice now turning back into something softer as he speaks.] Let's just leave the matter here. We'll walk out of here and not trouble anyone any further.

[Violence only begets violence, and Bruce would rather not draw any further attention than they all already obviously have.]

Congratulations, you continued to serve the Inquisition. [ He releases the woman's hand to let her pull it back toward her body. As far as he is concerned, it doesn't matter what state a Templar should be in. They should remember who they are meant to protect -- and that includes the elves that are with them now. ]

I say that the Dalish have a better way to deal with those who would use their power granted to them to bring harm to others. [ And a pointed glare at the healer. ]

Already forgot what I told you even though you wrote it down? Perhaps you should look him over as he has memory loss. [ A beat. ] I will not keep you here but leave because you wish it rather than be frightened away by dogs such as these.

You're not going anywhere till I've had a look at you.

[Pel insistently sits Bruce down in a chair and examines where the blow struck. As she starts up a minor healing spell to reduce any pain and swelling, she talks to Stannis.]

What's your name, Knight-Templar?

[Unable to really argue Bruce sits down on the chair that Pel directs him to, wincing again as she starts to heal him up with magic. It doesn't do much as she thinks she is, what with the interference of lyrium in his blood, but Bruce will take care of the rest himself later. Far away from anyone actually noticing him using magic.

He stays silent as she heals him, having done what he felt was necessary and not wanting to trouble anybody else no further. Perhaps he shouldn't have done it, but he doesn't just step aside right now. Not when he remember what happened the last time he did that.]

Knight-Commander Stannis Baratheon.

[ He corrects her without missing a beat as he stares at their mutual acquaintance with something akin to annoyance. ]

Proud of yourself, healer? Next you may end up with a sword through your middle. Stay to tending to the wounded if all you can be is an easily broken shield that listens to no one.

[This kind, gentle soul took a blow for her and this is how this dipshit treats him? Pel removes her hands from Bruce and rises to her full five foot and one inch, all ninety pounds of her, and stands chest-to-middle with Stannis.]

He protected me. He took a blow for me. He's allowed to sit and rest without having to hear how bad he was at it. If you've finished threatening disproportionate retribution to your allies, back the fuck off.

[ Merrick hadn't attended the funeral, not exactly. It had just felt strange to him, standing among people who were mourning someone who was a stranger to him. So he'd lingered somewhere nearby, just watching from the periphery a surreal scene unfolding before him.

He hadn't intended on going to the wake, either. He'd just gone to his favorite smoking spot, well away from everyone else, reflecting on everything he'd seen-- until his throat began to burn, and he decided he needed a drink.

The raised voices reach him immediately on his way to the tavern, and his curiosity kicks in without fail. He gets a drink and listens carefully until he hears a voice he recognizes. That changes things.

He's very quiet, weaving through the crowd until he can hop up on a table behind the man antagonizing Pel. Before he hops back down, he lops his drink, tankard and all, at the man's head. ]

Edited 2015-10-28 00:57 (UTC)

[Bruce is already mildly alarmed when Pel starts to snap back at the Knight-Commander, and he makes a move, attempting to stand to try and stop her before she can continue on with her outburst.]

It's okay, he's-- [He starts to try and defuse the situation, but that's when he notices the other elf making his way from behind, and then his eyes widen when he flings the tankard towards the Templar. Quickly he gestures for the Knight-Commander to duck as he shouts through his pounding head--]

Look out!

[He pulls for Pel to duck with him as well, not wanting to risk any more collateral damage that what has already happened.]

[ Stannis takes a deep breath in as he starts to step forward, but is halted when Bruce starts to speak. He looks towards him then to turn the full fury of his words upon the man for starting to interrupt, to defend him, but he notices the widened eyes and gesture to duck.

It is then that he thinks that Bruce is thinking that Stannis is about to strike him. His head gives a violent shake like he may actually hit the man for having assumed that is what he plans to do at all. His head jerks forward as the full tankard strikes the back of his head. It is enough to bring him forward and remain standing even as the beer pours down the front of his armor.

His hand reaches back to touch his head like he checks to see if he is bleeding. He turns then, slower than he moved before, like he grants the person a chance to flee before he catches sight of who it was. ]

Edited 2015-10-28 02:14 (UTC)

[Merrick is fast. And accurate. Pel doesn't even duck, twisting away from Bruce when he starts to pull at her. Merrick doesn't hit anything by accident. She's splashed by some beer. That's fine. Good for the skin, is beer.

She turns to Bruce.]

Want to get out of here?

[ It's not a waste of ale if it humiliates someone. At least he didn't throw a knife, right? Pel ought to be proud of him.

He makes a beeline for the door as soon as he can, but it's difficult to be completely sneaky when everyone is looking around for who had the balls to throw ale all over the knight-commander. If Stannis is looking at the right time, the fleeing elf can be spotted.

Once outside, he finds a nearby tree to stand near so he can catch Pel on her way out. ]

[Bruce's eyes go wide in alarm when the tankard hits the Knight-Commander square at the back of his head. He has no love of Templars, yes, but that doesn't mean he approved of them being stuck like this because of him. He didn't want to be the cause of anything.

Before he can go forward to try and do something Pel speaks to him, and Bruce turns to her, his expression strained and hesitant.]

I... [The best thing would be to just leave, he knew, but he couldn't just ignore the Knight-Commander when he had been struck like that. He darts his gaze between her and him for a few moments before he forces himself to make a decision.

He wouldn't be able to forgive himself even more if he just left the Templar injured like that.]

You go first. [He says, gesturing for her to make a move.] I'll catch up with you later.

[ He looks to see who had thrown the tankard but all appear to have the same expression. Like they expect him to manifest some sword to cut down the lot of them until the person is found. But he does not do anything of the sort. Stannis reaches back to keep touching his head and glad to find that he's not bleeding, but there may be a bruise come morning. ]

A coward. [ Stannis announces as he leans down to pick up the dagger that he dropped when the tankard struck him. There is a glare that he gives to a few Templar that may feel like they should take this upon themselves to strike at the mages, at the people who hate them, because a Knight-Commander is hit by some childish antic. ]

Are you staying for my sake? You needn't. You took a strike for this elf and ignore her good nature. Twice. You do not read what I told you to write down. Help those that are in need and help yourself. This is why you are but a shield that is easily broken. [ The dagger is tucked away as he straightened his posture. ] It'll bruise. I suspect I shall suffer worse and in that case, you can sew up what pours out of me, then.

You are not my nursemaid, Bruce. Leave if that is what you want, but not because of the actions of the foolish and the drunk. [ A pause as he looks towards the elfin mage. ] That includes you, elf. To bluster so big then run away at the sign of a fight... what are you going to do on the battlefield beyond pick up the dead after you have ran?

You're not my enemy and this isn't a battle. Fuck off.

[If Bruce doesn't want to leave, she can't make him. She hesitates for a bit, deciding if she should leave him, but she should probably go after Merrick if he's angry enough to throw things.]

Be careful, [she tells Bruce before turning away and heading out to find Merrick.]

[Bruce winces - both at the Knight-Commander and at Pel's response - but he doesn't try to do anything to fuel the flames. He simply gives Pel a small nod to show that he's heard her before watching her leave. He'll catch up with her later and make sure that everything's okay.

When Pel is gone he turns back to the Templar again, stepping closer to him, trying to be reasonable in his own response.] It's not about what I am and who you think I should be. [A pause. There are many eyes on him now, he knows, and its really starting to make him uncomfortable. But still Bruce pushes on.] The fact is that you took a bad hit to your head and I just want to make sure its okay. I'd rather check now than later, when the damage is harder to control.

I think that elf will take no advice unless it is worded with sugar.

[ He looks toward the healer as he gives a sigh at the comment the man made. Stannis grabs a chair to take a seat -- perhaps that shall be enough to show that the nonsense of before is over. ]

Think I will die in my bed if you do not check it now? Then go ahead. [ There is a small wave of his hand for Bruce to check him over. ] If you are going to protect a person, learn to stop the strike from coming rather than take the violence upon yourself. You end up doing nothing to stop what you want to end. If you can't do that, let someond who can. Do you hear me or will this, too, go in one ear and out the other?

[With permission given to him, Bruce goes around to take the supplies he had left at the front of the tavern. As he does that the crowd that had gathered is already dispersing, now that the spectacle is over and the ones causing the disturbance are gone. Besides, there are other far more entertaining things happening in the other parts of the tavern.

He returns soon enough with his bag, and Bruce rummages through them to get out the things that he needs.]

Sometimes prevention is not better than the cure. Some people just don't see the folly of their ways until they actually do it. [With a rag in his hand Bruce dunks some ice onto it from the tankards nearby, pressing it onto the spot where the Knight-Commander had been struck.] Are you feeling any dizziness? Shortness of breath? If there's any discomfort at all, let me know.

And some people are fools who would not lean even afterward. These people have been given all the reason in the world to work together yet could not even do so on the funeral of the one who brought them together. If you think striking you would have awoken her senses, you're more of a fool than I thought you were.

[ There is a brief sigh. ] I feel a pain in my neck. [ Was that a joke? It is always difficult to tell with him. His voice quiets some. ] Some dizziness, however, but it would not do to show it. Give them more reason to rally and be inclined to riot. I do not think you are fast enough to stand in front of all mages, so try to keep your injuries to one foolish moment.

[Despite it all Bruce can't quite tone down the bemused sound that escapes him at the Knight-Commander's words. He knows that the Templar means well, but still--]

I'm sure they have better things to do besides burning me to a crisp. [He remarks back quietly in turn as he uses his free hand to take out a draft that he passes over to Stannis.] It's probably a minor concussion. Drink this and I'll apply some poultice to handle the swelling.

Like they have better things to do than make a mockery of a wake? Like they have better to do than threaten mages? Threaten Templar? Incite violence upon those simply affiliated with either side?

[ His words are overly articulated as he glares ahead of himself. No, he will grant no quarter. Here above everything is when they should have come together. As little as he cares for funerals, for the worthless words Mother Gisele spilled, he knows others find solace and peace in them. Yet they found anger and blame. ]

Fine. Then go ensure that elf mage has not gotten herself into trouble because she thinks herself above everything when she is wallowing as much as these people here. And keep yourself out of being struck and being her human shield. If you can do that much, I shall reassess how useless you are.

waaaaake

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oh my god merrick

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