faderift | [ Open ] Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

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[ Open ] Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

WHO: Jim Kirk & You
WHAT: Jim left a written request, and now awaits replies
WHEN: From Kingway 9 and on for a couple days, can be morning or evening (or another time if pre-arranged)
WHERE: The Skyhold Gardens
NOTES: Possible cursing, possibly discussion of death

His stomach twisted as he paced the pathways of the gardens, turning the silver band on his wrist over and over. A nervous habit, the need to fidget, but he couldn't stop it. He kept looking down, expecting to see something else there - the sleeve of a uniform, or the brush of a soft leather jacket. He could still feel those things on him, the sleekness of the cloth, their familiar weight. He wanted to reach up and strip them off, but they weren't there and they had never been. Had they?

He bit his lip sharply, nearly drawing blood as the gravel crunched beneath his boots. He shouldn't think on it to much, he told himself. Not until he had spoken with someone else, someone who might no more. Perhaps it was just something brought on by recent events, by the stress of a child's torture and death, by the stress of being an outsider and not belonging. Maybe his mind had simply supplied him with wishful imaginings when he was most vulnerable. And yet... and yet...

No. Stop. Wait until you could speak to someone and sort it out then. Drawing conclusions before you had all the data was one of the worst mistakes he could make, and he wasn't about to start now.

He just had to hope someone had answers.

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"James...?"

The name is said slowly, softly as he approaches, trying not to startle the man as he approached. That and his ribs still hurt some if he talked too loud or too big of breathes - healing magic did wonders, but they still took time when things broke. He had noticed that things were not right since he had returned home, especially when neither of them could sleep. Even if they had talked, there was obviously more to it.

Noting the way Kirk is biting his lip and his fingers messing with the bracelet on his wrist, Sam raises a brow. "Everything alright?" He had seen the message on the board, which is how he knew to look for him here.

Kirk started when Sam called his name, whirling to face the mage. His heart hammered in his chest, though he couldn't say why. No, that wasn't true. He knew why it hammered, why he had this nervous twist in his gut. He shook his head, pushing it aside and instead marking towards the mage with a soft twist to his mouth, a crinkle of concern in his brow.

"You should be resting," he said sternly to him, taking his arm and moving to take Sam to the nearest bench to sit him down.

If he had turned around any faster, Sam was sure Kirk would have given himself a dizzy spell. He had not seen the space captain to irritated in a long while, and even then it didn't seem anywhere close to whatever this was right now. It's concerning, so of course when Kirk starts fussing about him, Sam gives a huff.

"Says the man who was up shortly after his own injuries not being fully healed." Sam doesn't quite fight in being directed around, but he does move slowly as he's being led.

"I had minor scrapes and burns, not bruised ribs." He couldn't recall if that was his exact diagnosis from the healer, but it fit for the moment and his mind was so rattled he wouldn't be able to rightly recall anyways.

He keeps a gentle pace as he leads him, wishing he could lean on him some, but that wasn't an option at the moment. He felt calmer once he had Sam sitting, taking a spot beside him on the bench. Sam finding him here meant he had probably seen the note he had put up on the board, and after all this time, wasn't Sam the one person he could tell his troubles to and be believed?

"I had a weird dream last night," he admitted to him, playing with his bracelet again.

Sam was tempted to argue back that it was still similar enough, but he didn't exactly have the energy to have a friendly argument. Besides he was here to see what was wrong.

"Was that why you kept waking up last night?" He hadn't exactly been able to sleep himself, but he was still out of it from exhaustion and potions that he hadn't been awake enough to console Kirk at the time.

No energy for argument. No energy for little more than curling against his companion in the night, comforted by his warmth and the smell of him. He only wish that his sleep had been as soothing as Sam's presence felt, though he could not honestly remember repeatedly waking up. He would not put it past himself, though.

"I think so," he nodded, leaning forward on his elbows and letting out a heavy sigh. "I have new memories, Sam. At least three years worth. I slept a single night, and yet I know - I know I'm thirty now. My birthday came and went and I'm thirty."

Of all the things he had considered Kirk would say, that had not been one of them. He was thirty now? Ribs momentarily forgotten, Sam cannot help but just blink at Jim. "You're... thirty... now?" The confusion was obvious in his voice, a brow raising at the curious conversation.

"How-?" He didn't know exactly how old Kirk had been, Sam assumed around his age, but now Kirk was older then him?

"I don't know," he said tightly, the anger of frustration making his voice sting.

He shook his head and pushed to his feet, pacing with that same frustration, trying to force out the energy that seemed to make him buzz and vibrate. If he kept it up, he thought he might vibrate fast enough to simply phase out of existence, or perhaps even transport himself.

"I feel like I have three years of memories shoved into my head," he said, pressing his knuckles to his temples. "I think I did. In a single night I gained thee years of memories, and they have to be memories because the things I remember - I wouldn't fantasize about that. I wouldn't have a nightmare about that!"

It has been a long while since he's seen Jim like this, and even then it hadn't been this bad. So for a time Sam just watches as Kirk paces, staying silent as he rants, letting the man get it out without interruption.

He can feel Fortitude buzzing in the back of his mind, seemingly interested by this strange turn of events, and Kirk's mood change.

Carefully Sam puts a hand up as Kirk paces by, just letting his fingers grace an arm to grab Kirk's attention, but not to stop him if he didn't want. "Did you come into contact with anything while you were gone?"

"Dude." That's a 'dude' of concern, by the way. Church hops over a couple pots casually just to make his path as straight as possible to get to Kirk. "The fuck is going on, man? You look like you've seen a ghost. Oh god, is it ghosts again? Are we having another ghostly spirit infestation? Cuz that wasn't fun the first time around. Did you summon ghosts with your shard?"

Cosima's dressed for traveling, borrowed native clothes except for the boots and the glasses. She's busy, she knows the group leaving from Skyhold are leaving early, but something about the tone of the note caught her attention all the same.

It's almost like deja vu of their first meeting, except with the agitation levels reversed.

"Hey," she says quietly when she approaches. "Everything okay?"

Okay here meaning under the weird, weird circumstances.

That single word is enough to let him know who it is coming up into the gardens, turning in time to see him doing a good impression of a steeplechaser. He cannot help but smile a little despite his concerns. He does stop so the other does not have to make to far a journey - or make his way over more pots.

"No, no ghosts," he waved away the concern. "More like - memory issues." His fingers strayed to his wrist, playing with his bracelet as the moment of joviality passed.

"You haven't - that is - " He grunted, trying to find the way to form his question. "Since you've been here, have you 'remembered' anything from your own world, like you gained more time, somehow?"

He sees Cosima and there is a touch of relief there. He likes her, and she was a smart woman. If there was anyone to talk to about this, it was her. She would have some good theories, surely.

"Yes, and no," he shook his head. "Physically, I'm fine. It's more... a mental thing." He hated saying it, especially here, but it was the only way he could explain it. "A memory thing, I suppose."

The touch makes him pause, makes him turn back to Sam and the comfort the other can offer him. He came closer, choosing to still stand rather than sit.

"No. I mean - we were up against a place they experimented with red lyrium, but I didn't touch any," he assured him. "And I don't recall eating or drinking anything strange in the towns."

Kirk looked like he needed space to move considering the pacing so Sam continues to just keep his hand where it is, offering a bit of comfort, something to steady the other man.

"Hm..." There had been red lyrium? "There's a lot of stuff we still don't know about red lyrium... and the shards," he says slowly, "maybe just being in proximity of it triggered something with your shard? It brought you here through a rift and you've mentioned there are people from your world but different times. Think it's possible it grabbed some aspect of you from a future time...?" Sam doesn't sound sure, but he's trying to think of something that might explain this.

He made a sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between sigh and grunt, but it wasn't dismissive of Sam's theory. It could be possible, he thought, and it was true they didn't know near enough about these Shards or what the red lyrium could do besides drive a man insane.

"It's possible," he stripped the bandage from his hand, looking down at his shard, running his thumb over the space where skin met green crystal. "I mean - the things I dreamed, they felt real. They feel real. They aren't fading like a dream does, and if I think of certain ones I remember smells or tastes or sounds. You don't get that in a normal dream."

"I suppose you wouldn't unless you're turning into a mage." There was a lot of things a mage remembered from the Fade even after waking. "That still doesn't explain suddenly having three years of experience.

"Is there anything else? Besides the memories?" Aches or pains? Things he didn't notice before that were there?

"Not that I know of. I'm not suddenly conjuring fire, lightning, or healing things, so I think it's safe to say I'm still non-magical."

Though, all right, it would have been cool to have been able to use lightning or fire. Yes, it was still illogical, but the fantasy of it was entertaining enough.

"No, there's not. This body is the same as the one I went to sleep in, even though I know that I should have more scars, a bruise too. I spend a very upsetting amount of time running away from things on new planets." He shook his head at himself and glanced back at Sam.

"You can always check for yourself. I mean, if anyone would know if there's something new on me..."

Casting fire and lightning is fun. Would be better that the rest of the baggage didn't come with it, but still fun.

Sam raises a brow at the suggestion. "I'm not exactly in the best shape for anything rigorous..." A momentary tease that he offers with a small smile, but quickly dies off with the seriousness of the subject.

"The memories only came when you returned to Skyhold?"

Any opportunity to discuss the magic of the shards was not one to be passed up. Jefferson had devoted himself to seeking more knowledge with an almost obsessive fervor, and the note did not go...well. Without note.

So he arrived in the gardens, early one sleepy morning, though Jefferson showed no signs of drowsiness. Instead there's a nervous, anxious energy barely being kept in check, rocking back on his heels or a hand twitching upwards to adjust the scarf at his throat.

Patience. Just...wait.

It's okay, so long as he doesn't have to do a 100m dash or something. Or climb onto any cliffs. Man, this body's really getting into shape, though.

"Uhhhhhhhh." Hm. Hmmm. Church and memories, a complicated topic on the best of days. "I mean, I don't think so? Nothing more than what was, y'know, already shoved into my head before I fell into a fucking swamp full of zombies. Did you like...dream up some added time?"

"A memory-thing you think has something to do with the shards," she clarifies. It's not that much of a leap, based on the original message. She comes to sit on a nearby bench, stillness to contrast with his recklessness. "What happened?"

"I think it's related," he admitted. "I don't have much more than a feeling right now, but I thought it prudent to check with others."

He touched where his shard was embedded beneath his bandages on his hand.

"I seem to have gained memories."

It is a nice side effect. He's worked off the pudge that Leonard was so worried about six months ago.

He gave a soft nod. "It had to have been a dreaming, because I went to bed last night and woke up this morning, and it's not - it's not three years later." The last came out in a rush, like he couldn't quite believe it himself - and he couldn't, could he? He wouldn't be having a crisis over it if he did. "But I don't feel like those three years were a dream. I remember it like I lived it - I know in my soul I lived it, but the time doesn't add up."

Kirk would be the first to admit that he knew squat about magic. Absolutely squat and he never pretended to. Even less about the shards - which was why he had made the call. But maybe talking it out would help. Anything would help right now with his head all a jumble like it was.

Rubbing his hand as he walked, Kirk made his way into the gardens, pausing when he sensed he was not alone. He refocused on the space before him and looked, finding Jefferson in the gray light.

"Jefferson, wasn't it?" he asked him, remembering the man from the library several weeks prior.

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[ Open ] Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

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Oh no that face

Sad face is sad, like a confused puppy

:(

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