faderift | For my bones have found a place to lie down and sleep

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For my bones have found a place to lie down and sleep

WHO: Araceli Bonaventura; open
WHAT: Wow was closing those rifts a bad time and double wow guess who is a terrible patient
WHEN: post plot/early Octoberish; we can handwave time a bit
WHERE: Healing tents; her + Korrin's room later
NOTES: Okay there will be discussions of injuries here as well as what went on in that plot, I'll try to put warnings in headers if specifics come up but if there are things you aren't comfortable with discussing, let me know (Araceli's ic/ooc inbox, plurk or discord all work!)
Also let me know when you're catching her since that'll change how injured she is/if she's still lyrium'd to the gills!

There isn't much of a choice in where she goes when she comes back to Skyhold. Araceli is sent to the healing tents, too hurt, too tired, too out of her head to even attempt to argue. Half her arguments aren't even in a language the healers about her understand until one of the Rivaini mages agrees to step in, knowing decent enough Antivan but she drifts. Tries to sort through memories with her right hand curled against Lux who visibly bristles even at friends throughout the first awful days. Her left arm is useless, bandaged tightly to keep her from hurting it more, right leg not much better. Healing potions and spells are turned away. Sleep, she just wants to sleep.

(There are too many nightmares but she presses her face to Lux, and at least she can open the flap of the tent to breathe fresh air when she struggles for air when she fights herself awake.)

Later, when she's able to argue a little better, she attempts to sneak out. Attempts. Being that her right leg is weak and aching and useless. The bandages are off to reveal stitches closing up the wound in her calf, maybe with another poultice slapped on if someone argues her into it. But she's been stuck somewhere against her will already for so long that she can't explain the itch under her skin or that she can't breathe when she's trapped in the tent, that no she never just lies down to sleep all at once, and the longer she's cooped up, the worse her temper gets. Her head feels more like hers; she's Araceli, she's been here nearly a year now, she's Korrin's kadan, she knows all of that. But she looks up at the walls with longing, testing her thumb, attempting to put more weight on her leg--

(I've been shot, I've been stabbed, I've broken bones worse, I can climb again, I can, I can--)

Eventually she gets to go back to her and Korrin's rooms, either for a few hours or because she's well enough that they don't have reasons to keep her. Still, she's always running around doing something. And she's bored. Tremendously bored. Stuck in a chair or more likely the bed because she doesn't like admitting how sore and how tired she is, not really, and there's an open door policy if you know to look for the one with the blue seashell. There are books scattered about, and all of Araceli's cards and dice but playing games with herself is no fun when she wants a distraction.

(You should probably give Korrin a break, having to deal with this pain in the ass all the time.)

[[ooc: any mix is good - like bringing cards etc to the healing tents - or wildcard it up, just check in if it's when she's still full of lyrium for memory flash stuff!]]

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When they first enter Skyhold, Korrin follows her right along to the healing tents and doesn't budge except for moments of bodily necessity. That her staff arm also needs attention thanks to Ruby's bite is enough to ensure that anyway, but one wound compared to what Araceli's suffered is nothing. She knows enough Antivan to translate whenever the Rivaini mages aren't around and even polishes her language skills to speak to her in kind for privacy's sake. She's a constant presence, reminding Araceli through touch and voice that she's safe and loved. Potions and spells aren't something she will force, much as she worries, but she will encourage a strong tea blend that will aid in dreamless sleep. No one deserves that amount of nightmares, Araceli least of all.

That regaining of strength isn't nearly fast enough for her liking, but Korrin takes comfort in the fact that it's steadily happening nonetheless. One a return trip from the kitchens to pick up a few treats made especially by Burly, the Vashoth mage encounters her wobbly kadan attempting her escape. She raises an eyebrow, sympathetic but her lips curving in gentle humor. Genuinely scolding Araceli when she gave her just as hard of a time while ill would be the height of hypocrisy.

"You know, I could have sworn we've been through this scenario already. If you want out, kadan, I won't stop you but let me help. Burly made you some treats, let me take you to the garden to enjoy them."

Knowing that she did not like healing magic, Bruce of course was the one who took up the task of nursing her back to health with everything he could that didn't involve healing. Poultices, potions (when allowed), and a lot of disinfection to make sure all her wounds would heal without any other complications happening. As if the lyrium wasn't already bad enough.

Today, just like every other day since she came back to Skyhold, Bruce is here to check on her again. Tray of necessary supplies in hand he goes over to her bed, quietly placing the tray down and then turns to Araceli. "Hey there," he says, voice soft enough to get her attention if she's awake, but will simply pass by her if she's not conscious. If she's still resting, then he'll come back later when she is actually awake.

Christine tends to bow out when magical healing is refused, but this is Araceli and so she attends to her daily with the argued over poultices. Her bedside manner is better than most, but even Christine gets a little fire under her when certain patients are stubborn. Araceli is sadly one of those, so most days Christine's raised voice can be heard coming from the tent. Today, however, she's in a gentler mood. She's learned the valuable leson of making things count while people are around, because some day they will be gone and you don't want to have regrets.

She opens the tent flap and enters with a crutch. But if Araceli thinks this is her ticket to freedom, Christine will have to disappoint her.

"Come on. We are going to walk outside and you can sit in the fresh air. But no further. This is just a test to see if you can walk, and you will be allowed back to your quarters if your leg holds your weight."

Damn right nobody's going to keep him from visiting Araceli. It's almost like half the people he knows ended up on this trip of torture and/or rescue and it's not okay. There are strings of guilt plucking in his brain that he knows he has to ignore, that it's all just stupid stuff leftover from his time in Blood Gulch (or, maybe, even before that)--thinking maybe if he'd gone along then at least he might've been able to do something. Or if he'd gone, then he'd be the one in the tent instead of literally anyone else.

He knows better than to feel these things, and he knows better than to get in the way of any of the healers, or of Korrin, or of Lux. He lingers outside the tents the first day, when everyone had filtered in and he'd seen the terrible state the teams were in, but doesn't enter. And then when he peeks in later, she's sleeping, and again later, still sleeping. He's not about to disturb her rest.

Eventually after a couple of days, with permission, he sits by her cot on an upturned box. Lux isn't the happiest fox, but he's going to have to just deal with it, because Church is going to sit here until she wakes up, not bothering her. Spending his time chewing on the end of a quill, wishing pens had been invented, scribbling on sheets in his lap awkwardly.

The second he notices she's gone he's headed to the walls. Her voice had held such passion when she talked about climbing and he gets it, the need for freedom, the need to be out, but he truly doesn't think she's ready yet.

Sure enough, Araceli's looking up. Anders gives her a few moments before he sees her weight shift.

"Araceli." His voice is gentle and quiet, pitched to not carry past the two of them. "I'd like to help you back to the tents, please."

She had been to the tents earlier, but once. Outside the tents to check upon her students progress, but not eager to stress her with the looming thought of work and what might await after. It had been a brief, simple exchange with a healer, and the order that utmost care be taken, and then the Nightingale had disappeared back to her tower.

Some time has passed since then, and Aracei is more active, though whether that is for better or worse... well.

"Araceli."

It might be a surprise to have Leliana standing atop the wall that Araceli was attempting to parkour her way up, and rather less ably than usual. She certainly wasn't up there when Araceli started climbing, now last she glanced up, but now there the Nightingale stands, perfectly balanced, hands folded behind her back as always.

"I suspect this is a little premature. What say you?"

Edited 2016-09-25 11:29 (UTC)

Why did she not bribe someone? Araceli isn't ever hurting for coin, someone could have gone to fetch it for her, she could've paid someone to just watch out for people who might come since Lux is exhausted from watching over her, curled up asleep in her bed in the tent.

Her eyes flick in his direction. "You aren't my mother." Araceli wouldn't be out of bed if it was her mother because she would be too afraid of her mother's temper to disobey. Neria Castell is not a woman to be trifled with but she has to swing her weight onto her left leg with a curse. "I need to sit."

Somehow it's as if the very idea of that is an insult to her entire way of being, her pride, her reputation, and her honour all in one.

Araceli has been Lux's whole world since he was a baby thing that wandered onto a ship that happened to be captained by a certain Felix Bonaventura, who delivered him into Araceli's hands. Ever since he's gone where she's gone. Sometimes here he gets left behind but Araceli has never smelled like this, sick and sad and strange, never dampened his fur with so many tears; there's more bark than bite, and more whining than bark. An anxious fox.

The nightmares are worse now she's in Skyhold. Maybe it's the shock wearing off, or whatever they give her to make her sleep that has her trying to frantically claw herself awake when they come but they're so real, they're so real she can't breath, that she wakes up gasping. Usually she thrashes about like a wild thing too, knocks her leg, her arm, her slashed ribs.

Waking suddenly from teeth and wretch you are nothing, heart pounding, she squints through bleary eyes still red and a touch swollen. Expecting a healer. Another round of 'no I do not want healing spells, go away' only that isn't a healer, that's-- "Church?" That's his name isn't it? Names slipped out of her head for a while but that sounds about right.

Going from being the girl who never got caught to the girl that gets caught every time she leaves the sight of a single healer - is there some sort of spell, or ward, or glyph, or rune that they use that Araceli is unaware of, one unrecorded and passed down from healer to healer, to be kept from all patients lest they rumble it - has a way of simultaneously making one think they can perhaps sink no lower, but also making them even more stubborn.

Exhibit A: this nonsense.

She's almost shaking like a leaf through gritted teeth, swearing at herself when she snaps her head up because no. No she is imagining it. She is not so careless. Only she isn't exactly careless lately so much as generally muddled, trying to get everything back in order. This is almost as bad as being caught by her mother from the way her eyes go very wide.

"Nightingale," her voice cracks on the greeting, embarrassment more than anything else. "I...you are correct. I will get down."

(If her shame could swallow her, she wishes it would hurry up and do so.)

If Neria Castell were here, the stories she could tell. On the other hand, if Neria Castell were here then Araceli might not be so upset; no matter how much you know your mother cannot magically make it all go away, there's no denying wanting your mother when something awful has happened. But Araceli's mother is at home, and Araceli is here, and so Araceli keeps that tucked away and sticks to every poultice that makes her gag from the smell.

At least her stitches have held. One-handed, full of lyrium, still shaken from a fight but with only a little tidying up here and there they've held just the way they would at home. Not everyone is impressed but she didn't set out to impress them, only to stop herself from bleeding all over the floor after Ruby shook her like a stuffed doll.

It's a little sad that the word walk makes her eyes light up but she's not used to being cooped up or having to have someone (Korrin) carry her if she really wants to go somewhere (visiting with Martel or Ruby mainly). The crutch is viewed with confusion, because she knows what it is, what it's for, but she has no idea why Christine has brought it here.

"Is that to hit people with?" Do you think she's joking Christine? Because she's smiling, but she's not joking. There are quite a few people she would like to hit with that, and it looks good and sturdy.

Edited 2016-09-25 21:57 (UTC)

Sleep is cruel thing. Her body needs it but she fights it. When she does sleep she has nightmares she can barely claw herself back from. So she sleeps in bursts and she's up, stroking Lux and not really reading the book someone brought for her that's open in her lap, open only because it landed that way and it makes her look like she's doing something. Visitors are a better distraction, and Bruce doesn't push her.

"Hola," she greets with a smile, shoving the book away as Lux yawns and makes room with a nudge. "No one ever told me that lyrium was so terrible."

The headaches? The headaches almost hurt as much as her pulsing arm although nothing hurts as much as the leg.

Miserable. After the journey back she is miserable, when the lyrium withdrawal starts to sink in just as the shock wears off, trying to curl in on herself even when it makes the slashes above her ribs burn. Clarity comes and goes in waves, faces and names get jumbled up much to her frustration. There's a nightmare bad enough a few of the stitches tear but Josué said in his kindest, gentlest tones that there's always going to be a scar there, so it isn't as if it's going to make much of a difference anyway. Eventually the worst part - or what has to be the worst part, she can't imagine a worse part, she thought the dungeons would be the worst of it but maybe this is just a different sort of worse - is over.

An apprentice mage - not one of the Rivaini mages, she wouldn't pull this with them, honestly wouldn't get away with it - is meant to be watching her when Lux distracts them, not knowing Lux or Araceli well enough to know that it's exactly what he's doing. Her teeth are gritted, tears are starting to blur her vision, and her head is swimming like it did before but this is pain and she knows pain, she can--

Korrin's voice startles her enough that she wobbles, clutching the wall with her good hand to keep herself upright. "I'm not seeing things," she's huffing like she's just run round the rooftops of Skyhold three times over, it shames her. "And in the tavern. In the rain. I am...I'm--" I am not going to snap at Korrin, I'm not, I can't, count to ten, count to ten and breathe, don't get angry she came for you, she came and fought monsters and Venatori, she came, don't snap, she tells herself when she she drops her head to take a breath so she can slowly inch herself into turning round.

Any faster and she'll fall. If she falls it'll hurt. "I don't want to go to the garden." Yes Araceli that's very helpful.

"Then we won't go to the garden." Korrin isn't typically long on patience, it's true. This is why she would make a terrible healer and has never bothered to learn, putting her talents to where her temperament is best suited. Araceli is an exception, though, always is. For her, the Vashoth woman will do everything and anything to make her happy, or in this case, a little less miserable.

Not about to let Araceli fall, Korrin reaches her in a couple of long strides, covering the side that might need more support. "We can go somewhere else, give you something to breathe in that isn't the same healing tent herbs and medicines over and over again. I know how dull that place gets, even though they mean well." And yes, Korrin will want her back there, that goes without saying. No one will convince her that some fresh air and different sights is a bad thing, though, at least in decent doses. "If you need a view, I can get you up the stairs."

No, she's not climbing, she doesn't have the gift for it and absolutely doesn't trust herself to carry another person. If Araceli fell...nope, just not going there. Please don't ask.

Her unfortunate sleep is distressing, but at the same time, it's not the most unfamiliar feeling. It's interesting to sometimes realize that everyone he knows is fucked up. Occasionally unable to sleep for fucked up reasons. It's not like he hasn't hella realized that shit is fucked up, that people are going to die here. That people will get hurt and tortured and just get increasingly fucked. Just like in any war.

It's her fits and starts that don't bother him too much. He's concerned, obviously, but it's all right. It's when she starts the claw and thrash and hurt herself, when she's wound herself up into a nightmare-induced frenzy, that he sets his pages aside, fetches some water, strokes her hair.

She's so distant. But she recognizes him anyway. There's that much. "Yeah. Hey. You were dreaming." He offers up some water. "But you're here, so...you're okay."

Bruce knows full well the trouble of sleep and the nightmares that come with it - its half the reason why his own sleep has always been irregular to those who take notice well enough. So he doesn't say what should be the obvious, knowing that its of no use to either of them. Perhaps once she's in a better state, then he might actually try it.

But for now-- "Yeah, its pretty bad for people who aren't prepared." He rubs his own wrists as he says that, a wry smile crossing his face. "Still, the worst of it should pass by eventually. It seems like whatever the rifts did to bring you over here, it helped with that issue as well." Or at least, that was the best assumption he could come up with after having had some time to process everything that had happened. The rifters and almost everything about them were still one great mystery.

He sighs and looks around, raiding a stool from one of the little stalls that will be open again come morning and bringing it over.

"You need to do more than sit, but I'll let you have a few minutes out here. Despite the mother comment." Anders leans against the wall, himself. He's not about to go anywhere. Sure, she can't really make a break for it, but she's in the tents because she needs help and he'll not be neglecting what he can do. "We're not trying to hold you captive, just trying to help you heal."

Around the end of Araceli's convalescence in the healing tents, Pel arrives with a long stick wrapped up in a scrap of the fabric Araceli gave her. She smiles and approaches her, moving in for a one-armed hug first of all.

"Sweet Araceli."

"A most wise decision, I think."

Leliana's tone is all lightness, all serenity. One would think she had corrected Araceli on an easily made spelling mistake, rather than found her attempting acrobatics while still more than slightly injured. Severely seemed rather apt, and though she does not question Araceli's apparent preference for anything other than healing magic, she cannot but feel faintly bemused that the stubbornness to move so soon comes with a stubbornness to refuse that which could better heal her.

Rifters will do as matches their customs, she supposes.

"I must admit, if I had attempted such feats so soon after my recent illness, I would have been met with rather sterner reprimands." It's... almost conspiratorial. Almost.

Sina doesn't take many shifts in the healing tents, but as soon as she finds Araceli there, she's on her like glue. Being that Sina tends to busy herself with more pain relief and herbal remedies than healing magic, she shouldn't be too disruptive to her friend's peace of mind-- that, and at least at first, Araceli is always sleeping when Sina sees to her.
At least once a day she sits by Araceli's bed, combing her thin fingers through the woman's thick black hair and singing softly: Dalish lullabies, quiet poems of birdsong and dappled sunlight through the trees. Her singing voice isn't strong or trained, but she carries a tune well, and her tone is pleasant and soothing.

(and I'll probably throw her at you again for a timejump, but let's do this one first :3)

Because it just makes her think about the places she would go if she could, the places that would make her feel better that aren't near here because they're up a mountain, she changes the subject away from the gardens for a moment. "Can you lift one of the floorboards a bit back in our room? Lux needs to get something, he knows what it is." It's a coin purse, and she would ask Korrin, but Korrin might ask why, and Araceli is probably going to bribe people because the healers don't get paid. Araceli knows how the world works. Slip a few coins in the right palms and away she goes with a handy lookout or someone to swear they're with her. Not Raffa though because Aintza would punish them both as soon as Araceli's well enough to be punished.

"I have a room. I don't know why I can't go back to it yet," she mutters when she's got a hand on Korrin's arm to steady herself better. It's not fair is what it sounds like. "Why am I stuck in a tent. On the ground. With no door." There's a flap but no door, and everyone just coming in and out without her being able to tell them off because they have too many arguments when her head hurts, or another part of her hurts.

"Stairs." No she's not whining but she's just. Hiding her face. Against Korrin. That means lift her up by the way. "The indignity. If you tell anyone that you carried me up the stairs there will of course be consequences when I am well again," she continues as if she is in any sort of position to be making threats, weak as they are, but it makes her feel something like herself again.

Another face swims up - dark curls, tighter than hers, neat moustache and a trimmed beard, a scar, darker skin - and she blinks in confusion when the gasp lodges painfully under her ribs. He isn't here, something says in her head, he is at sea, look at your hand.

Only she closes her eyes, leans into Church's hand as much as she can just to pretend. Just for a moment.

Dreaming is a kind way to put it when it's disjointed, sharp as the needles and the teeth but she takes the water with a murmur of thanks, sipping so she won't choke. "I forget sometimes. I think I'm there." Usually at night when it's pitch black outside because that just confuses her. "Siento." Her friends? They shouldn't have to see all this, and at some point she'll probably be embarrassed about it since she sometimes says things since the healers try to get her talking and nope, no sale.

"What're you doing?" Rescue your papers, Lux is stalking them now he's done nodding his approval at the petting Araceli just had.

That's probably supposed to be a comfort but she looks at her hand with alarm, wanting to curl it into a fist but her wrist and thumb would protest that too much still. "And people take this, willingly." Korrin takes this. Not so much, but she still does. And Templars. "I know why the mages in Dairsmuid were so anxious about if they had lyrium or not now. They were awful enough with it."

Maybe because Bruce knows why Araceli doesn't want magical healing is what allows her to ask the next question, after that. Voice smaller than it's been since Korrin found her in the dungeons. "It changed me?" Because that's...that's a lot. I'm what the sea made me and What if I'm gone so long that it forgets me and I'm not--

"My leg is itching. Not bad itching," she hastens to add because she knows all about infections, anxious as she is to get out. "I fell asleep with a poultice on."

Look as soon as Lux gets her money she is bribing someone so she can make a great escape. Don't doubt the lengths she'll go to. Raffa, alas, will not because Aintza will punish them both once Araceli is well enough to be punished, she already sounded her out there.

"I have a room. And a bed. But most importantly it has a door." Oh door, she misses you and your little blue seashell but she does sit, lifting her right leg up just enough to take the weight off with a hiss. Lux where are you, you little shit, come be her footrest. "And you should be honoured, my mother is a beautiful woman, she would scare all your patients with one look; one time when I was shot, I tried to get out the window again, and the look she gave me. I would rather be stung by a hundred box jellyfish all at once then rolled in salt."

But back to more important matters. "When can I escape?" Seriously. You are holding her captive. Where is her justice?

Now that her ribs are free of wounds save a few lines that might scar or might not, she can't really tell just yet, hugs are easier. And if Araceli moves her left arm she can just about wrap that around a person too. Just. Well it's more like hovering because if she doesn't damage it more then she'll be picking locks with it soon to get it more mobile.

"Pel! Here to brighten my day?"

"My mother would be less kind."

But then mothers have their own sort of kindness which is likely their right after nine months of discomfort and many hours of bringing forth a screaming thing into the world, don't they? Or Neria Castell would say as much the few times her daughter bothered trying to argue the toss with her. There's an itch under her skin that no amount of elfroot, iced bandages, poultices, whatever else they've given her that hasn't set off some internal alarm will soothe.

"You worried so many," she replies easily enough - caught somewhere between too tired and still too not-quite-her to try for what a bard student is perhaps meant to be in such a situation that there is no hint that she's playing along, she could be discussing the weather really. Still, she won't say the word 'poison' publicly, she's got enough wits for that. "A voice going like that and getting into the chest in the cold mountain air? Salt air is for healing. Wolves bite all the time here I am told, and I cannot keep track of how many times I have broken my wrists and my thumbs."

A rifter is just a rifter, at the end of the day. Maybe one such as Araceli is fortunate to have many friends who love her dearly but she is not someone like Sister Nightingale.

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For my bones have found a place to lie down and sleep

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heaaaaling tents

healing tents, probably a day before she's released

sometime in those first couple awful days

Wall/tents

walls, a little before FREEDOM

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Healing tents!

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