And as we wind on down the road

[faderifting]

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.)

Comments

[kremdelacreme]

"Father taught me when I was little. I wanted to know how he made the ones that he gave to me." He isn't as good at it as his father was, but he is still proud of it nonetheless.

[gatheringstorm]

"Really? Okay, that's adorable. And I can see why you'd want to keep that up, especially now." A skill that's practical and also easily adapted to making cute things, what's not to like? "My folks mostly just passed on how to survive as a mercenary. I think most of my playthings were toy weapons, but sometimes they'd carve little nugs or dragons for me. I don't have that kind of skill, myself."

[kremdelacreme]

"I can carve, but not very well. I once attempted to make a halla for Dalish, but its horns came out funny. She still thought it was precious, but those twisty horns are hard." Maybe he could get one of the others that was better at it to help him figure that out some day. Maybe Grim. Grim was good with his hands.

One of Krem's arms wraps around Korrin's waist as hers had come around his shoulders, and he returns the hug. "Y'know, I think we're going to be ok here."

[gatheringstorm]

Aw, Krem. Perhaps Korrin shouldn't be surprised by that gesture, but she is nonetheless. Most don't think her quite that approachable, whether due to size or unintentional intimidation on her part. Having someone work around that is a welcome change, even as she can't bring herself to say it. "I think so, too. We're too resilient to let all this get to us. But you know if you need to rant again, I'll be ready to listen. Maybe next time with a pint or something we can go destroy together."

[kremdelacreme]

"Let's just save a cask for us," he suggests. "Anyone else comes near it, we can set them on fire."

Not really, but it would just be their booze, to be shared between the two of them.

[gatheringstorm]

Hey, it's still a nice mental image and makes Korrin laugh. She nods firmly, enjoying this idea already. The cask, not the flaming death.

"I'll do that, and I think I know just where to hide it so that no one else comes looking, either. Good view, too."

[kremdelacreme]

"Excellent, I'll let you know as soon as I've secured the booze."

Definitely feeling better now, Krem draws back finally and lays a hand on Korrin's arm, then shivers a little in the cold. He should go and find a cloak...

"Hey, I'll uh...I'll see you in the morning, alright? I need some quiet."

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin nods, understanding. She notes that shiver, but doesn't mention it. Krem doesn't need a babysitter, after all.

"A good idea, that. Go take the evening to yourself, I'll try and prevent people from being complete idiots. Wish me luck."

She smiles, then turns and heads for the tavern. It's going to be a long night, and the best way to cope with it is getting in an order before the rush.