[closed] had a falling out with a window

[seesobserves]

WHO: Sherlock, the Valo-Kas, Kirk
WHAT: The Fade sure was a thing, and now everyone needs a drink. Even those who are only hearing about it after the fact.
WHEN: Early Justinian
WHERE: On the road back from the Approach to Skyhold? (as long as that works for everyone)
NOTES: Pseudo-party-post. No real tagging order, feel free to make new threads for side conversations.

Perched on the half-crumbled wall of a ruin, Sherlock had stood and watched the larger part of the Western Approach expedition get sucked into a rift. He'd been at a distance from them, part of a small band of scouts tasked with keeping watch, with picking off any stray threats that managed to get past the initial assault. In the end, watching was all he'd been able to do.

The fact that any of them made it out, much less the entire group, is astonishing. The Fade has always been something foreign to Sherlock, something relegated to the world of dreams and of mages, neither of which he concerns himself with too heavily. If the possibility exists, no matter how anomalous, that he might get pulled into it one day? He'd better start getting acquainted.

As much as he wants the details to remain coherent, he's willing to concede that alcohol may be necessary to the facilitation of his questioning. As much as he wants to keep his head, he may require a bit of liquid courage to keep his nerves from shaking.

They're sitting around the campfire, and Sherlock is nursing his cup slowly. For now. All the better to get used to the burn of maraas-lok.

"What did you see?" he asks, "When you were first pulled into the Fade?" He knows what he saw, for a half an instant, while the rift had opened wide — what he thought he saw. He wonders if their stories will be consistent, even with one another.

Comments

[fightingdirty]

Lena drinks her cup down fast and then reaches to refill it. What happened in the Fade is something she isn't willing to discuss, but as long as there is alcohol, she'll stick around. Sherlock's question doesn't get a response out of her. Korrin's always been better at recounting things anyway. And as much as she wants a dreamless sleep, she's apprehensive about drinking too much, because then she might say some things that are better left locked away, like how she bawled like a damn baby when faced with the details of her brother's last moments.

For now, she drinks and listens.