faderift | [ open ] we are a starry sky

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[ open ] we are a starry sky

WHO: Shino Inuzuka & open!
WHAT: Later catch-all for the latter half of August.
WHEN: August 15th-31stish!
WHERE: Skyhold & surroundings.
NOTES: Will update as anything comes up! Shino's an emotional idiot, I apologise ahead of time.

Formal training had always sounded like a bore when he'd had the luxury to not need it, relying on his makeshift training and Murasame's strength. Being effectively immortal had made for a certain knowing recklessness that Sosuke had taken him to task for most recently, the last time he'd died then been resurrected. It wasn't so long ago now.

He can almost hear Keno laughing from across the universe, asking what about when you said no, you didn't require any of my training? The effort he'd wanted to avoid before is an effort he makes now in joining in with drills. He did what he could to deal with the frustration and intense urges to sulk off that hit at first, but the importance in focusing on learning the means to defend himself and survive without Murasame meant he kept at it, no matter how often he ended up on the ground, or sending others down in turn. His fighting style relied far more on speed and decisiveness in his strikes than the heavier heft and hack of the broadsword, so adapting to the practice swords on Thedas was a trial.

He was going to have to find some means of getting a wooden sword more to his specifications crafted, leading to his spending time talking with the merchants coming through Skyhold investigating possible avenues forward. Discussing the specifics of a wooden kendo sword was leading to poor sketches on his part, and discussions on the worth behind a weapon that didn't fit the standard for 'proper' warfare against heavier armours.

He retreated to the library to study what he could on creatures and demons and spirits, finding it easier to choose them as a focus when what little he understands about Corypheus indicates he's some sort of tie toward both those and the Blight. Reading by natural light and candle light was enough of a strain when he'd grown used to being spoiled by electricity that toward the late afternoons and early evenings, he could be found trying to work on (hard to recognise) sketches of a wooden kendo sword or inadvertently sleeping off the headache he'd given himself.

In his opinion, one of the few comforts of civilization (albeit a civilized castle and little else outside of its immediate economy) was found down in the lower levels with the hot-spring fed baths and a chance to soak out the aches and pains around whatever company inevitably seemed to be around. "Not quite like home... but better than nothing, I guess." He was too tired and turning into a boneless human being to be able to summon up the energy for the proper sulk that might have felt nice, given the situation.

Evenings were a toss-up of talking with the people who were part of the inquisition, letting his unfeigned ignorance lead him into conversations within the attached encampment around communal firepits, or in the more enclosed environment of the tavern. He was a good listener, and avidly curious; how much was genuine interest or him embracing his fervent need to know was a matter left up to debate. He certainly stayed ready enough with a smile and laugh, or the open eyed, total focal interest that made it seem like he cared very much to hear whatever he was being told.

Understanding what it meant to deal with the shard in his palm was more difficult for not knowing precisely who to ask, or what he should be asking. Murasame had been another presence to fight against and work with; he was capable of speaking, and the pains and thirsts and appetites they each had were a dialog. Uncurling his fingers to examine his open palm, Shino breathed out in an annoyed sigh. "This can start making more sense any time now."

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Most evenings upon Korrin's return from Honey Badger Hold again see her at the tavern. She's a bit more subdued than before, not quite as interested in joining every tavern song or roping people into card games. At least, not for now. But the general positive atmosphere of the tavern seems to be rubbing off on her, bit by bit.

Relaxing at a table near Maryden in order to hear the bard's music, the tall horned woman glances over upon hearing that sigh. Lowering her tankard after a swig, she darts a sympathetic look at the unfamiliar face. "You're in for a long wait, I'm afraid. If granted wishes were a thing, we'd have a lot more answers by now."

He shoots her a forelorn glance before shaking his head, followed not long after by a lopsided, rueful grin. "Or more problems. No one ever promised a wish would be granted in the way we hoped for it to be." It was perhaps for the better that his ability to grant wishes, such as they were, had been left with Murasame in the impossibility of their separation. Impossible that I'm still alive and not sick, but still true.

He leans back, running one hand through his hair. Gathered as it was in a ponytail that hangs down from the back of his head, it doesn't achieve much other than giving him a place to rest his unmarked hand. "When you say long, you don't mean years, do you?"

"There's that. Ask anyone who's dealt with a desire demon." Or don't because they're dead or possessed or submitted to any number of awful fates. As to the question, she shrugs. "It could, yes. The asshole responsible for all this shit hasn't exactly made himself easy to find. Ever since he destroyed Haven, everything's been done through his forces. The Inquisition's best scouts haven't been able to find him, so I'm not going to hold my breath on that one being resolved any time soon.

...sorry. I know that can't be what you want to hear, but sugarcoating it won't help any."

Despite wrinkling his nose at the mention of desire demons, he refrains from commenting. People are moved by their desires. There's a power and a lure there regardless of better intents. As for the rest? He groans, torn between the urge to give in and pout, and the reality that it's going to change nothing about his situation. "It might make it easier to swallow," he manages at last, lips curling up into a sheepish sort of expression. "Though I think most medicine goes down bitter and you're told it's all the better for you that way."

Finding the asshole responsible and figuring out the means of crossing back to the right world circa the time of his defeat was the ideal scenario: or close. The most ideal wouldn't require getting that close to Corypheus the Disappearing Act at all.

"My name's Shino Inuzuka. Who should I be thanking for being blunt enough to be honest with me?"

If Korrin's offended by his lack of stoicism, she doesn't show it. Some rifters have adapted surprisingly quick, but she doesn't have anything but sympathy for those who take a bit longer, due to whatever reason. If their positions were reversed, the Vashoth woman couldn't honestly say she'd be coping any better. She takes a swig, then leans over to offer a hand. Her grip is firm but not crushing, using to dealing with the more delicate races.

"I'm Korrin Ataash, Vashoth mage of the Valo-Kas company and member of the mage council. If you want to know all about Thedosian nobles and their games, I'm...not your person. Arcane and travel info? I can do that."

He could hold all he cared for nobles and their games in the thimble he didn't have. The politics back home were bothersome enough, and those had more to do with him directly than he liked acknowledging. (The religious politics, anyway.)

He smiles, his own grip firm in return, but with nowhere near her potential strength. In spite of hands with just the beginnings of new callouses, he was used to working with his hands. "Arcane and travel info sounds way more interesting. Politics get so convoluted." He made a small noise of discontent, more childish than anything else. "Though what do you mean when you say arcane?"

There were a slew of terms he didn't recognise (mage, at least, he knows means works with magic), but he could get around to that in time.

... Like five seconds later. "What's a Vashoth mage?"

"Arcane as in magic and mages or anything to do with them. The Fade, too, though I don't claim to be an expert on that. If I don't know the answer, I probably know someone who does, though." Questions are absolutely fine, and Korrin uses the time to take another sip while waiting for him to finish. "Well, by now I'm sure you've heard anyone with horns referred to as 'qunari'. That's not strictly true, but some of us use it anyway since it gets tiring to correct people constantly. Qunari are those who follow the Qun, this extremely oppressive and fanatical way of life that mostly stems from Par Vollen up north. Tal-Vashoth are those who rebel against it, leaving the Qun. Vashoth, which is what I am, are those born outside it and never had anything to do with it in the first place. Don't worry, there isn't an exam on this later.

As for 'Vashoth mage' maybe I shouldn't have said it that way, since that makes us sound like we have one uniform way of doing things and we...really don't. The only thing most of us have in common is that we aren't part the Circle of Magi, the organization that humans and elves are forced into joining. We're on the fringes, just like we are with the rest of society, so we do our own thing."

Religious politics... he taps his fingers against the table top, piecing it together best as he can. "So Qunari is name for the people of a faith, not necessarily from one country. It's not a race." He thinks that's the word he hears bandied about to describe people of different sorts of species, though he's not certain. He's also openly trying to figure this out, falling on the ignorant side of the line pretty heavily.

He looks up at Korrin, figuring there's really only one important thing in all this. (He is not right.) "SO can you ever just refer to people as being the big, horny ones?"

He means the literal horns... he's an idiot... and he sounds entirely sincere because he's trying in the worst way possible to figure out how to talk about people when there's no one word.

That gets an amused snort from Korrin. "'Horny ones'? I mean, you can, but I wouldn't recommend it. Most of us have had our fill of 'horny' jokes, so it's not going to win you any favors. And don't call us oxes or ox-men. That's even worse. 'Horned ones' isn't bad, but it's a bit awkward. Honestly, it's easier to just use 'qunari' and then specify as need be.

As for why there isn't one general term for what we are, I've no fucking clue. Maybe there was one, but the Qunari stopped using it. They don't seem to like names, even for their own people. Your job is your name, more or less."

"Oxes?" He drew his head back, examining her horns. He apparently didn't agree with the allusion, but he had his own biased reasoning. "I don't see it. It's more like oni to me," he says, opting not to further state that oni were technically a kind of demon where he was from. With the friends who took on forms with somewhat similar horns, he didn't want to give the wrong kind of impression over what was, to him, simply humanity wearing a different face.

Humanity was going to be a word causing him trouble here enough as it was. "If you suggest qunari, I'll stick with that for now." He's probably going to yell out horned ones at some point. Pray he doesn't end up meeting trolls anytime soon.

"They're really not big fans of having a sense of self, are they?" Much more consuming than the Church he knew, but it sounded as if they operated under very different parameters. Satomi would likely find it far more fascinating than Shino did. He mostly was deciding "not to go visiting with the Qunari" anytime soon.

"I...don't know what oni are." Korrin's brow furrows, but...nope, so far she hasn't heard that term from a rifter before.

"But no, they aren't. It's really weird to me, too, but my parents grew up in that shit. Then they decided they'd had enough when their friend became a mage. They treat mages even worse than the rest of Thedas, you see, like attack dogs to be chained or something such. So, they took him and left. Best thing they ever did, honestly."

He was in the library fairly often. There's so much to learn, and he's grateful for the variety of books even if he sometimes winds up overwhelmed by them. With a pair of history books under his arms, one Fereldan, one Orlesian, both covering the same time, Anders takes a seat next to the stranger and gives him a nod, glancing at the titles of his books. ...And then glancing again, and looking more closely at the other man.

"You're researching spirits and demons?"

Shino places his hand down on the page he'd been reading, having unintentionally ignored the nod from Anders. He was trying to make sense of the loosely described relationship between spirits, demons, and the Fade described in this book, but most of it seemed like theory based on someone's drunken ravings over actual observations or anecdotes. Not helpful.

"Hm?" He glances over to Anders, nodding once he takes the other man in with a brief glance. Shino doesn't see any reason to not own his own interest or curiosity. After all, he now has a vested interest in all of this. "Yes, as far as what either mean here. It's not quite like anything I knew before."

For one, too often things here are thematic and repetitive. For another, there are fewer individual personalities and stories coming through, and he almost wants to ask why it is that the stories he expects to find simply don't seem to exist. So and so was possessed and became an abomination and killed and then was killed doesn't grant the possessor or the possessed much understanding of who or what they were.

"Do you know of any animal-related spirits on this world? Almost everything I've read talks about them as if they're only like people, or based on human —" he breaks off with a noise, irritated that the word he uses normally doesn't encompass enough of the people on this world, "Or based on people's emotions."

"Animal-related?" He glances back at the shelves before shaking his head, looking solemn. "I'd suggest talking to the Dalish about that. They've a Dread Wolf that does footsteps, hears them, something, there's things about ravens, and so on. But you'll not find books on that. A lot of people in power don't like it when the Dalish have records. Or anything, for that matter."

Their world is not a kind one. "I can answer questions on the sorts of spirits and demons you're reading about, I'm... something of an expert. But anything animalistic, I'd recommend speaking with Pel about. She has very pale hair, a lot of freckles, and is often found in the gardens or here. Or sometimes with the halla."

Pel. The woman with the note about the Halla? Yes, he'd really need to track her down at some point, if for little other reason than his own curiosity and restlessness being forcibly stranded on a world that wasn't his own. He gives Anders a distracted nod and hum in the back of his throat. Right, he'll get on that.

The professed expertise, on the other hand, has Shino looking directly at Anders. "Why is that?" Frustrated by his own in-exactitude, he waves a hand in front of him, tapping down on the book pages with one finger. "You know more than the nonsense stuff they're writing down here?"

"For one, I'm a mage. We often have demons in our dreams. For two, I'm a spirit healer, which means I've consulted and spoken with spirits, and worked with two of them." There's a pause, a hesitation, before he considers. "For three, I was possessed for a time. I'm not any longer, but I'm one of very few who has been there and come out of it."

There's one other, helped by the Hero of Ferelden, and then if Asher was to be believed it's a usual Avar thing. Anders doesn't quite know if he believes Asher.

"I've first-hand knowledge, while a lot of the books you'll see aren't written by mages. We weren't exactly given much leave to publish while held as captives, and we've not been free for long."

Most of it meant little aside from Anders owning his affiliations and abilities. Shino's most interested in what he says at the end — possessed for a time, but not any longer. That's a reality for Shino right now, but one he doesn't know will ever be realised back home. The balance between himself and Murasame...

He smiles, a brief, unfettered show of emotion. "Great! Then you're just who I want to talk to." Not great about being held captive, that sounds shitty, but it's part of the past (apparently) and what he's more concerned now is the present. Not to mention the future... and Anders has his attention over what he's presently focused on. "Outside of fighting once once after that rift-thing up in the mountains, I have no idea what your demons are, or how they different from spirits. Are they not supposed to manifest on this side of the..."

What was the word, what was it... "... Fade?" Yeah! Probably?

Generally easy questions are ones he likes the most, and the man's lack of pressing about being an abomination is comforting as well.

"Demons and spirits aren't supposed to be on this side of the veil, no. They stay in the Fade, a realm that dreams touch sometimes, unless you're a mage. Mage dreams touch it at all times. And the difference... Virtues are spirits. Corrupted virtues are demons. So you'll find Hope as a spirit, and Despair as a demon. Justice the spirit, Vengeance the demon, and so on."

Shino has been pretty impressively abdominal when Murasame's been in control... but there was little point in saying so or considering that so much as being more considerate to the difficulties and the choices made by individuals on this world.

He listens, chin propped up on his hand. "That's a very human way of looking at things. Or... people way." His nose wrinkles. He's not adapting fast enough to the multi-race situation he's found himself in. "Virtues and their corruptions are all invented and agreed on by people, not some outside force, aren't they? Not that anyone's going to say murder's great, but one person's justice is another person's injustice. Are spirits as aligned to points of view as all of that?"

Shino hits a little closer to home than Anders was prepared for, and he gives the other guy a sidelong look.

"They are absolutes. They don't really understand shades of grey or complications. Justice sees Justice as he chooses to see it, and sees no other way. Compassion can also become Despair when one realizes how complex a situation can be, and how the world lacks it. It's theorized that our thoughts and emotions have some sway over how spirits present themselves, but as we can't observe a spirit without being involved, I don't know how to say for sure. It's... complicated."

"No wonder they can't handle it." He sounds sympathetic; and he is. There's a difference in his eyes between the monstrous and the human; spirits who find themselves confused by the complicated nature of people were, in essence, being corrupted by them. People making their own monsters, in one sense.

Or as Murasame had said, humans made demons. Not the other way around. (Not that the demon-spirit had bothered explaining what he said.)

"People don't work in absolutes. Sounds like a basic conflict of understanding from the start." Or, where life was concerned, the retention and prolonging well past when it was natural, or when the spirit had already been severed from the living world.

"It's a great conflict. And it's why spirits can't last long here. If they're pulled over and exposed to all of the shades of grey, they're likely to lose their focus and purpose. They prefer to stay in the Fade. Demons, on the other hand, feed off of the chaos and conflict, so they want to come over. That's why demons spilled from the rift."

They found a door and poured in.

"What else?"

There was no particular reason he was in the library today except to see if the space had changed at all since the arrival of a particular Orlesian - perhaps the organization of the books or a complete remodel. So it isn't so strange that Sam passes by the table where the youth is hunched over with his paper and books. Normally it wouldn't even catch his eye since so many were like that in the library, but it was the certain nagging from Fortitude that has the mage turning around.

He's there long enough to notice the scar on the palm and an exasperated muttering. A new Rifter then considering he hasn't seen this one before. "If it starts to maybe you can inform the rest of us. We're still working that out."

He glanced up at the stranger with an exaggerated sigh. "It's not like it's talking back when we ask questions. I hope." Though it'd be much easier if whatever was responsible for merging this weird form of magic with people did have a conscious will. Sure, they might have to fight for their own sense of selves if it tried taking over, but at least they might have a conversation.

(He didn't really mean any of that.)

Shino straightened up where he sat, closing the most recent book with an air of disgust. "If it's an outside perspective that's supposed to help, none of this works like any of the spiritual stuff that I know about from my world. Even the possessions here are different. I think." He frowned. "It's hard to tell with the way things are written about. Anyway, there's nothing like this Fade or tears in reality. Usually there's just the divide between spiritual and human, with those who can and can't see across it, stuff like that."

More of a shared world, less of the divide of the veil. "This?" He held up his hand. "This is a pain in the a... arm."

"Well if it could talk... there would be a lot more to be concerned about." People already though the Rifters might be possessed, so that wouldn't help anyone. Maybe. Well not the Rifter in that case, but that isn't quite the subject he really wants to get into. Especially not with a... kid? He certainly looked young - about Kas' age actually.

The talk of possession does have Sam raising a brow, but he doesn't seem like he's on edge, just curious at the mention. "So you come from a world of magic?" Just to clarify. "Exactly what isn't working like you know?" So far he's met someone who used wands and a bag that held almost anything that practically didn't work.

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[ open ] we are a starry sky

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