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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Krem's hand comes up when Sam's head clonks into his, palm against the other's head as he leans back some, making a face that fades off after a moment. "Can't believe you're a klutz even when you're sitting down," he teases, then slides his hand up to ruffle through Sam's hair. He isn't rough about it his time, and his hand stills as Sam starts to lean in.

This is weird. It's a weird feeling and he's always been so...not good at things like romance and yet here he is, in a scene fit for one of the maudlin romance stories the ladies of the hold liked to read. His hand falls away from Sam's hair to settle at his shoulder, eyes darting from the other's face to just his lips.

Lips getting close enough for him to feel Sam's breath on his own.

Keeping tabs. All she needs to do is keep tabs on mages and with as tense as things have been? With the fights and arguments? Being short one rather tall and kindly mage is enough to set Adelaide into a small bout of anxiety. Not in the tavern, not in the hold, not in the garden- she winds her way around the battlements hoping to see him from above if not on the walls proper. The longer she goes without someone mentioning that the'd seen him the more tense the set of her shoulders becomes, the tighter the clench of her jaw.

It started like this. Mages missing. Mages dead. Then it all spread and splintered and shattered and that can't happen here- things are supposed to be better here. She's practically sprinting by the time she reaches the top of the stairs and turns the corner, robes swirling around her. Don't panic, he can protect himself, it'll be fine-

Two figures huddled close and- "Sam?"

She can't quite keep the tension from her voice. The worry. Please let that be him- Maker let him be alright.

The hand in his hair, the slight pressure on his shoulder, the way Krem's eyes dart ever so slightly- And then his name is being called out from somewhere behind them.

Sam doesn't stop moving, but rather than continuing forward, his head instead veers over Krem's shoulder. Once he's past it the mage proceeds to lean until he lays on the ground, hiding underneath the cloak. Maker preserve him. He was about to-

He is blushing up a storm as his mind tries to get itself under control. "Yeah?" he mutters from where he's laying.

Krem is left leaning awkwardly when Sam ducks away, and he has to get his mental bearings before realizing what had happened. He looks up at the lady mage, mouth hanging just slightly open, then clears his throat.

"Ah...this...um. Hello," he stammers, hoping that the darkness adequately hides the darkness of his blush at having been caught like this. But maybe she hasn't realized what was just happening here at all? His luck couldn't possibly be that good, could it? He reaches back behind him and punches Sam in the arm, muttering at him to sit back up. "You would be one of the Circle mages, right?"

"Sam?" He- was just here, wasn't he? She peers into the shadows to find him and sees only the lone Tevinter mercenary settled in a cloak with Sam's feet sticking out the bottom. What?

"Enchanter LeBlanc of the White Spire, yes." Relief has habit slipping over- it's been awhile since she's introduced herself like this but right now? She's too pleased that Sam isn't dead in a room, drained of blood somewhere. Even if he's hiding- why was he hiding? They'd been terribly close-

Oh.

Oh.

"I could not find Sam and became concerned with how tense everyone is tonight."

"Ow...!" He's gotten used to Krem's 'light' punches so it doesn't hurt all that much, but it does catch him by surprise. Even though he very much does not want to face any of this right now, Sam does follow Krem's request. Sitting up with a sigh, Sam pulls himself from under the cloak, letting it fall back around Krem alone.

The familiar pitch and accent of the woman's voice has Sam putting a hand over his eyes. It was Lady LeBlanc. As embarrassed as he was though he could hear that she sounded worried. Turning a bit to face her, he gives a small smile.

"I'm right here. I'm fine. Is everything alright?"

Edited 2015-10-31 04:52 (UTC)

"Good to meet you, Lady LeBlanc," Krem replies, keeping at least some semblance of respectability in the face of the Enchanter. He glances around at his pet project and starts to pick up the plushes that ad been scattered by Sam's suddenly diving for cover, wincing as one squeaked upon being squeezed. "Um. What can we do for you?"

Because obviously the way to prevent Sam's imminent death by embarrassment is to offer his Generally Being Helpful.

What in Andraste's name...nugs. Little stuffed nugs. "There have been a few...scuffles around the Tavern. I'm trying to ferry every sensible mage out of the area and somewhere less likely to land them into trouble."

The sensible ones tend to listen- the rest? Not quite so much. It's frustrating not being able to prevent fighting but here she has no true weight of authority. Putting out fires is all she's currently capable of. "But as Sam is here and obviously not missing or in trouble I think I shall be able to rest easy for the remainder of the night."

A beat passes.

"The nugs are quite well made."

Despite the entire situation, Sam cannot help but try and fight a smile starting to tug at his mouth. With having a nug suddenly squeak it is rather hard. He succeeds for the most part.

Hearing that there are issues popping up isn't a laughing matter though. "Guess I'm one of the sensible ones then? Or did you come looking for me because I'm not?" Maybe a bit of both. He was smart enough to get out before things got started, but he couldn't make any promises about not doing anything if he was around.

"Thank you," Krem replies with a bit of a startle, looking down at the haphazard pile of the toys in his lap. He makes a face at hearing that things are going badly down in the tavern; he'd had a bad feeling that it would be like that, which was why he was up here, not drinking, even though he really wanted to grab a pint or five.

Leaning his shoulder against Sam's arm, he sighs, then holds up one of the nugs for the mage to take. It was made out of fine, soft material, the button eyes glinting some in the torchlight. "A token for you, my lady. Sam is safe with me." For the most part, anyway.

"I came looking because I thought you missing. I am glad to be proven wrong." It all starts that way- mages missing. Mages dead. Whether it'll be the same here she can't quite say but he is safe and in good company. She can't begrudge him that. Won't, even, despite her worry.

The nug is taken with a faint curl of a smile. It's well made and quite adorable, the fabric choice almost whimsical. Not something she'd expect of a mercenary. "Please keep him that way. Sam, Marguerite is minding the room and the younger students while I mind Roul and the elder- if you wish to stay with them for the night when you grow weary the knock has not changed."

Twice, a beat, twice again. Without her outside the door it's something of a requirement.

"I'm sorry that I had worried you." It's been a while since he's had someone this worried about his welfare. It's a little strange since he had gotten used to watching out for himself, but it was also very comforting. As is the small exchange between Krem and LeBlanc.

There's a warm feeling in his chest at how Krem promises that he's safe with him, and how LeBlanc trusts Krem with that. Also with Krem leaning against him again so openly and his mentor reminding him about being free to join the others for bed. He's suddenly thankful for the low light because he can feel his face heating up more.

"I... will consider it. I'll see when I actually turn in for the night. I wouldn't want to disturb them if it gets too late. Will you be alright?"

Edited 2015-10-31 10:49 (UTC)

"Best not to go back to the Rest tonight anyway," Krem points out, even knowing that that was the most direct route to getting back to his quarters without scaling a wall. He sits back and nudges Sam with his arm.

"How about you go do that now. Sleep off the drink, or at least go find some water."

"My fears are my own and I think here, at least, unwarranted." She reaches out to squeeze Sam's shoulder, a little longer, a little harder than the usual birdlike darting of her hands. He is well. He will remain well. That is more than enough for her, especially while in such fine company.

"Now that everyone is accounted for? I will be fine." If only she knew. "Have a good night, Sam, Ser." She dips her head to both before turning to walk back down to the tavern- and further trouble.

He lets out a long sigh as he watches LeBlanc leave, not sure if he should be walking her back. He wasn't quite sure how to take that squeeze on his shoulder or that look she had given him, but it didn't seem like she was silently asking him to go help.

It's quiet again once she leaves, but before the full weight of the last few minutes could actually settle down on him he feels Krem nudging him in the arm. Along with it a clear dismissal. Oh.

At that Sam gives a shrug and leans away so that he can work on getting to his feet. "If all the same, think I'll just... go for a walk. I don't think I'll be able to sleep. I'm..." feeling a bit rejected? Depressed? Embarrassed? "not good with too much noise when trying to go to sleep. The tavern sounds like it's going to be up for a while."

Patting himself off, Sam clears his throat, looking anywhere but Krem, suddenly feeling self conscious. His eyes eventually land on the plaid nug and despite himself Sam gives a small smile and picks it up, then holds it up for Krem to see. "I'll take this one if it's all the same to you. Hope you get some sleep yourself, Leu- Krem." With that he too leaves down the stairs, taking a turn for the stables when he reaches the ground.

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And as we wind on down the road

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