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

[serannas]

"That's what the Keeper always told me. That or they'd just kill me instead." She blows out a breath. It kept her close to the clan for so long, when all she wanted was to see what else was out there; see how other people lived. Then she would return and tell everyone what she'd learned. Maybe they could improve their lives that way. But it had always only been a dream. She knew then, as she knows now, that the clan doesn't want to grow or change. They want to continue roaming and stick to the old ways, instead of looking ahead towards a brighter future.

"I think that has to come from the top down. Those in charge seem nice enough, and willing to treat us fairly. That sentiment just has to reach the people below, like the soldiers, the cooks, and everyone else who could make the Inquisition great if they just try."

[ancarrow]

"That'll be a lot harder without an Inquisitor to set an example." She was sure they'd follow the rules set by Cullen and the others when needed, but that was entirely different from having a figurehead to inspire them to better behaviour. Ellana was right, they needed the sentiment to trickle down to them.

"Can you imagine if the Inquisitor had been an elf? Then we wouldn't have any problems at all!"

If they'd even agree to follow an elf to begin with.

[serannas]

Ellana's eyes widen and she lets out a short laugh.

"That would anger plenty, especially having to take orders from an elf. But who knows? Maybe things would have been better then."

If nothing else, she likes the idea of an elf standing for Thedas, vowing to bring down Corypheus and restore order.

[ancarrow]

"That or the mages and templars would overcome their differences and band together to take her down." The thought occurs to her very suddenly, and she regrets having had the idea of an elf Inquisitor at all.

[serannas]

"That wouldn't be how I would want peace and understanding to come about between them. But I think the difference is that some mages are elves, while no Templars are. At least, not that I've seen. They probably aren't allowed." It wouldn't surprise Ellana in the slightest. It seems city elves have had plenty of restrictions placed on them.

"Anyway, I think I've had enough of Templars and mages arguing for one night. I should turn in."

[ancarrow]

"That's the first sensible idea I've heard all evening." One she'd likely take up, too. If she went now, she'd be able to claim her spot on the kitchen floor before everyone else turned out from the inn. "If you're quite sure you're all right."

[serannas]

"Yes, I am now. Thank you again." She smiles as she dips her head a little at Eirlys. "Ma serannas. That means thank you in elven. And dareth shiral is how we say goodbye."

[ancarrow]

"Dareth shiral," she repeats shakily, trying not to wince at her own terrible pronunciation.

[serannas]

It's not that bad, and Ellana smiles widely on hearing the goodbye returned to her by one of the People who has never said it before.

"That was great. I would be happy to teach you more another day." But with that said, she'll take her leave. It's been a long day for everyone.