faderift | 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.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The Knight-Commander waves him off once Bruce is done bandaging him up, and as much as Bruce feels like he should stick around a bit more to ensure that the Templar is truly fine, he also knows when somebody's patience is wearing thin.

He uses the rag he used on the Templar earlier to wipe off his hands once he gets rid of the half-melted ice, holding it still after that so that he can wash it later. He packs up the rest of his items back into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and glances at the Knight-Commander. The side of his head throbs again, reminding him what he still needs to do.]

I'll try to check up on you tomorrow. Don't try to do anything that will aggravate the injury more.

[And with that said Bruce makes a haste retreat out of the tavern, more than ready to hide away from all the eyes and murmurs surrounding the entire incident.

--that is, after he goes to check up on Pel and that other elf.]

[ Merrick is out there waiting for Pel. Immediately upon seeing her, he grabs her by the arm and pulls her close so he can look her over. His jaw is tight, biting back hard on his anger. ]

Did he hurt you?

Edited 2015-11-01 09:44 (UTC)

No.

[But she is starting to feel that hit to the chest, especially when trying to breathe. She resists touching her hand to where it hurts, but her breathing comes shallow and her movements are stiff.]

He was insulting Bruce, though. Bruce took a punch for me.

[SPEAKING OF BRUCE here he is, coming out of the tavern, looking a little more haggard than five minutes earlier but generally alright.

He quickly spots Pel and another elf she is with and heads towards them, glancing at the both of them with a fair amount of concern.]

Are you alright? [He asks Pel,] Nobody else gave you trouble, I hope?

[ Merrick notices Pel's labored breathing, her rigid shoulders. He doesn't let her go, still gripping her arm to keep her close, ready to step in front of her at any second. He believes Pel, but that doesn't make him any less angry. He glares at Bruce. ]

You almost gave me away, you blighted fool. I ought to punch you too.

Edited 2015-11-02 02:03 (UTC)

[Pel holds tightly to Merrick.]

No. He put himself in front of me when a templar was attacking me. A templar. He's a clumsy shem, but he protected me without even thinking. He's good.

[Bruce takes one step back when the other elf rounds on him, mostly because he's trying to avoid any kind of confrontation rather than being scared.

Fortunately, Pel speaks up before the situation can start to escalate any further.

(He's not sure about being called a 'clumsy shem', though. More about the 'clumsy' part than being a 'shem'.)]

I'm sorry. [He's quick to apologize, not wanting to further rile up the other elf.] I didn't mean to give you away - I just didn't want more people getting hurt.

I would never hurt Pel. And that bastard deserved it.

[ Had the Knight-Commander been the one who tried to hit Pel? If it was, then he deserved far worse than a hit to the back of the head with a mug of ale. ]

Who are you anyway?

A healer, lethallin. A gentle soul. We can trust him.

[She still clings to him, although her voice has gone gentle. Soothing.]

[Well, that's not entirely what he meant, but--the Knight-Commander isn't exactly the most pleasant individual either. Not that he supposes this is a good time to really argue about this.

He inclines his head, trying to be as polite and as respectful as he can manage. Last thing he wants now is to further offend the other elf.]

You can call me Bruce. I work as a surgeon within the Inquisition.

[ Merrick completely ignores Bruce and his introduction for the moment and turns to Pel. ]

How did all of this start? Tell me everything.

That idiot templar who was blaming mages for the Divine's death. I tried to leave, and another templar assumed I was a mage. No, I won't say who. She stopped me at the door. I told her if she thought I killed the Divine, she wouldn't stand in my way. She hit me in the chest and when she swung again, Bruce was in front of me.

[She doesn't mention Bruce came in a little earlier than that. Merrick might decide Bruce exacerbated things by interfering.]

That's the extent of it. The other fellow just butted in and threatened to take off the templar's fingers as punishment. And flung insults at Bruce for not defending me properly, in spite of being a surgeon and not a soldier.

Edited 2015-11-02 14:05 (UTC)

[Oh, well. At least being ignored is better than... anything else the elf might have done, he thinks. Bruce isn't too sure about that.

He just keeps quiet as Pel explains the situation, nodding at her words. Honestly Bruce didn't meant to make the situation bigger, but the Herald's death was still so fresh in his mind and... and enough people had already suffered. Bruce would rather try to prevent more if he could help it.

Knowing better than to interrupt, Bruce continues to keep his silence, letting the two elves discuss among themselves.]

[ Merrick finally looks over at Bruce. He slides his arm around Pel's shoulders, supporting and reassuring her at the same time. ]

So you're a healer, then? A mage? [ His eyes are sharp, demanding. He tilts his head toward her. ] Heal her.

I'm not hurt, and he's not a mage.

I-- [Well, at least Pel says it before he can. Bruce does his best to look apologetic, inclining his head a little.] I'm no mage, but I do have my supplies with me.

[He glances over to Pel at that.] If you need it I can give you some things to help with the pain, if you'd rather preserve your magic.

And as we wind on down the road

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