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.)

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Pausing mid-stride, Korrin can't help but stare down and nod, her expression at once grieving and angry. "It's not right, to do everything for everyone and...and have that happen in the end. She deserved a lot better, and not just as a symbol of hope.

Do you think the rift-folk will have the same fate? They have her mark. I'm not sure I can watch that happen all over again."

Ellana sighs and shrugs helplessly.

"I can't say. I never saw the Herald close a rift, but a few of the other mages said the rifters' shards look smaller than hers did. I hope they are able to close rifts, but not if this Corypheus targets them now too. They didn't ask to be dragged into this, anymore than the Herald."

"No, they didn't...but we need something to go right, after losing both her and Haven. Finding a mysteriously abandoned fortress in the middle of nowhere is nice, but it's not enough." Korrin winces, not having thought about Corypheus targeting them yet...but he's bound to find out, sooner or later. Ellana's right, and she knows it.

"I suppose it will come down to what those in charge plan to do with them." She doubted they'd take a vote on whether the rifters should be sent out to close rifts or not. If they do, she's sure a detachment of soldiers would be sent out with them, and that's something she would volunteer for. She is pretty handy at barrier spells.

"I think once this place is cleaned up, things will start moving faster."

Korrin nods, trying to find something less awful to cling to, tonight. She continues along, this time not grabbing a book to bring to bed with her as normal. There's no point when the words are just going to slide off the page, anyway.

"I think so, too. I hope so. That darkspawn magister asshole isn't going to stay idle, so we can't. I'd rather be out there again, doing something rather than sit here and be blamed for existing."

"That makes two of us." And even though she's an optimist and doesn't want to believe that Corypheus will seize power and ruin the world, if he does then she wants the chance to go out and see more of the world first.

Her eyes linger on the books, but she won't borrow one tonight. It's late and her heart is heavy. She just wants to go to sleep.

"Soon. Surely we can go out there soon and start making a difference."

And as we wind on down the road

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