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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[Bruce smiles a little when he has Harding's approval on the choice of place. In this place few people do come here, if ever. He's pretty sure they'll both have the quiet that they need.

He shifts over to her side (with some space between them) and settles down as well. After a pause he glances over to her and asks quietly,] How are you holding up?

[She doesn't answer at first, head rested against the stone wall, eyes closed. Blackness, nothing to see, because dwarves don't dream, but they do remember. The image of the Herald's body, quiet and holy, being devoured by fire, was an image that wasn't going to go away anytime soon. She would have to fight to remember her alive, rather than that final farewell.]

Honestly?

[It's not a question, not even rhetoric. Harding is always honest about how she feels, but this is different. This is personal, and much, much harder.

She opens her eyes, looking at nothing in particular.]

Even though we knew it was her? I feel like every day we were just waiting for her to walk through the gates. I hoped for that, maybe. Hoped that we'd find something anytime one of us went down the mountains... that we wouldn't find anything at all.

[What's worse? Body or no body?]

If we'd had more time... maybe she would be here with us right now. Maybe none of us would be here. But we are, and it's because of her. We're stumbling along, but is that all we can do? Keep stumbling?

[That one isn't rhetoric. She looks at Bruce, then away, then up to the heavens with a look of ire, that for whatever his plans, the Maker has been cruel. There are still rifts, there is still Corypheus, there are people pouring through from other lands, and their leader is dead and burned.

To actually answer his question, the outside is fine. The inner turmoil is not.]

[Bruce is quiet as he listens to her words, mulling over it himself. He doesn't hold onto the same hope as she had with the Herald being alive, but still the reality of her death was a hard pill to swallow, for so many reasons. She had been the reason why they were all even here, why this Inquisition existed. Her actions had started this movement, and without her, they were all lost and stumbling.

But still they couldn't stop now, even after she was gone. The Inquisition still had to continue no matter what, while Thedas was still in danger and Corypheus was still out there.

He gives Harding a sympathetic look, wishing once again that he could have done more back then when Haven was attacked. That question of what if hung in his mind again - of what could have happened if he tried to stand up instead of fleeing, to try and fight back. Perhaps there could have been a fighting chance somehow. Perhaps he would have died as well.

Death, for him, would be a blessing.]

I'm sure we'll figure something out. [He says instead, because she doesn't need to hear what he thinks. What she needs are words that she wants to hear.] Her spirit lives on inside us, especially with the people who knew her. [Like you, he implies, without saying it aloud.] As long as we remember what we're here for, things will eventually fall into place.

[All they can really do now is to try. Try, because if they don't then Thedas wouldn't have a chance at all.]

[They are the words she wants to hear, but it doesn't give her much comfort. She knows that as long as they keep going, holding her ideals aloft, that they'll do good on her memory, that things will fall into place...

And now? Now, they stumble.]

And what if we never get anywhere?

[She regrets saying it as soon as it's voiced. She doesn't really believe that, but there's a nagging feeling, a niggle that says if the Herald was here we'd be okay and-

Harding lets out a soft, pained chuckle, shaking her head.] I guess she made me believe that we could do anything. That I could do anything - that even a sheep herder could make a difference.

[Uncertainty is only natural. Bruce would be lying if he said that he didn't have any himself; without the Herald so much is left in the air, so many questions left unanswered. They would all need time to recover.]

You have made a difference. [He says, as earnestly as he can, wanting Harding to know because she deserves to know.] You may not see it, but I'm sure that people around, in here and outside - you made their lives better for doing what you do.

[Its probably familiar to Harding because she's said something similar to him once upon a time, when they were in the Hinterlands and Bruce had been uncertain himself. Just as she did it for him then, now he returns the gesture for her.]

[It does give her a little deja-vu, and she smiles absently at the memory. She'd been so driven then, so determined, still quite new to the cause but ready to serve and make a difference. So much time - and so little - had passed since then, and though she had tried, whether her efforts had lasting affect beyond 'Herald, this is what I've found out about this place you're going next, good luck' was something she hadn't stopped to assess - not properly.]

I do want to believe that. Just as Evelyn made us all believe in the first place - all of us, no matter who we were, where we came from.

[Really, who could have imagined such a force mere months ago? It was still fledgling, absolutely, still lacked backing and still had its inner turmoil, but it was something. They could thank the Herald for bringing it together, but it was in their hands to do something with the gift she had given them.

She exhales.] And I'm not going anywhere until this is over. [Not that she'd consider leaving, not even for a moment, not if this lasts long beyond the foe they face. The Inquisition is, and always will be, her priority.]

[So many of them here, all together, a force unlike what many had ever seen before. Bruce knows how special all of this is, which is why its all the more important that they had to keep on moving even after that - to make sure that they succeed in what they came here for. Otherwise, everything would have been for naught.

Bruce gives her a smile at her last words, clearly pleased with hearing that.] I'm sure your excellent scouting skills will be much needed now, more than ever. [Though there may be no more Herald Harding's own work still remains equally important, and people have always benefited from what she delivers. The future will be no different.]

I'm sure someone will have need for them before long. Kinda indispensable.

[Harding smiles. Kind of is an understatement. It's really only by virtue of the funeral being today that she's not joining the scouts down towards the mire, which, for today, she's glad for.

She looks to Bruce, smile replaced by curiosity.] And you, Bruce? How long are you going to stay?

Very indispensable.

[He smiles once again. Harding will always be an important part of this thing, Bruce knows. And in a way, he's glad for her about that. She performs very well in what she does, and no doubt things will improve from there.

At the question, Bruce simply sort of... shrugs.] As long as the Inquisition still has people that need be healed. [Which, he supposes, will be a thing for a while--but of course he knows he can't stay here forever. The most he guesses is once the threats of Corypheus and such is settled. Once the dust clears on that, then he'll see what to do next.]

And as we wind on down the road

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