Player Plot: I will call you home

[arlathvhen]

WHO: Beleth, Cyril, Merrick, and Ellana Ashara, Thranduil, Sina Dahlasanor, Metaari, Sam Gareth, Kallian Endris, Alistair and Ruby i think??? whoever wants to go
WHAT: Keeping Up With The Asharas, the reality tv show
WHEN: Backdatedish, around mid-kingsway
WHERE: The Heartlands of Orlais
NOTES: OOC post

Tel'enfenim, da'len Irassal ma ghilas Ma garas mir renan Ara ma'athlan vhenas Ara ma'athlan vhenas	Never fear, little one, Wherever you shall go. Follow my voice-- I will call you home. I will call you home.

Clan Ashara currently resides in a small valley nestled into the mountains, that seems idyllic for a Dalish clan. A stream runs through the valley, descending into a waterfall with the steep cliffs on one side, and sheer mountain walls going straight up on two other sides. The only way in and out is through a gap big enough to lead several aravels through. It's a defensible position, safe from any threats. Except the fade rift that has opened up just a little ways from the gap. The hunters can handle the demons spewing from it well enough, and there are always a couple stationed there to pick off whatever appears. But it's too dangerous to lead the aravels and noncombatants through, and thus, they are forced to wait. To compound the issue, there's a village close to where they're currently staying, and while both sides have kept to themselves, neither are pleased with the current situation. They've helped get a message to the Inquisition in hopes that someone will come take care of the problem, and now both are tensely waiting for something to happen to change the situation, for better or worse. And so the members of Clan Ashara, with their friends in tow, return back to their clan.

Comments

Traveling to the Heartland

[arlathvhen]

[[ A catchall for the journey to the Heartland! Fight bandits or bears, chat with your neighbor, deal with the crushing existential dread of facing your family, or whatever you want! ]]

[samahl]

It's one of the nights that they've camped and Cyril is sitting by the fire. To someone who doesn't know him, they'd see him casually lying back and enjoying the warmth of the fire, but those who are closer to him in this journey will see the angle of his limbs, the tightness in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

He has a lot of mixed feelings about going back home.

[rowancrowned]

"You look troubled, Cyril." Thranduil folds himself into sitting beside the younger elf, hands wrapped around a tin cup filled with hot tea. It's getting chilly, these nights, and soon there will be snow. For now, it's simply comfortable, though perhaps they might need to share tents on the return trip.

He offers the cup- which has totally been fortified with some dubious clear alcohol, and uses his now free hand to sweep his hair over one shoulder. "Unburden yourself. You seem as though you need someone to listen."

[samahl]

It's probably for the best the idea of sharing a tent with Thranduil wasn't spoken aloud, as it would likely distract Cyril for the remainder of the trip.

Cyril takes the offered cup but when he smells the alcohol he doesn't drink. He hopes that won't be considered offensive for now. He hates the idea of disappointing the elves from their world. "Oh me? I'm about to return to my family. I'm happier than a nug in a sweater."

There's something to his tone that shows that it's fake, perhaps the way he forces it to sound off handed and casual.

[rowancrowned]

He smiles, reaches for the cup and settles it back between his hands, letting it warm his palms and leave his fingers near tingling from the warmth.

"The Orlesians dress their nugs in clothing. I have not yet met a nug who was happier once freed." Gently chiding, because that tone is impossible to miss and he does care, truly. He raises his eyes from the cup to meet Cyril's gaze and hold it, lips softly turned in a smile.

[samahl]

For a moment, Cyril allows himself feel distracted by that smile and the way it plays on Thranduil's face. He's so beautiful that he makes Cyril's chest ache in a way that is both familiar and so strange.

"You're right, I'll have to think of a different analogy," he says. He offers Thranduil a small smile. "Why wouldn't I be fine? I'm about to see my elders again. I was raised by the Clan, you know. Many of us were because our parents died from illness. This is like seeing my parents once more."

[rowancrowned]

He isn't particularly fond of using little stories or parables to make his point, but it seems to be happening more and more often. He's better off embracing it. Thranduil's hands tighten around the cup as he shifts over, makes room for Cyril to come closer. The affection Cyril so obviously feels is sweet, not unwelcome. It's different from mortal lust, which he's used to his advantage. It hasn't been difficult to watch him a little closer, remember what he said on the crystal after what had amounted to a love story, and decide how to handle it.

Gently, and with grace, done so slowly over months that Cyril won't realize until the end that Thranduil's painted himself as utterly lacking all sensuality and suitability as someone to be desired. If only there were more Quendi here, he mourns, both for comfort and for the hope that some of them might find spouses among the elvhen. It would be a neater and tighter bind than his own plans.

Come closer, the newly emptied space and Thranduil's carefully angled body says.

"My son often was late for supper when he thought he might have done something to anger me."

[el_tybs]

He's worn out from the trip and about to turn in for the night when he notices Cyril by the fire, noting the stiffness in his body. For a time Sam just watches before he slowly walks over and settles himself down in the dirt next to the elf.

"A copper for your thoughts?"

[samahl]

Cyril moves closer to Sam and then leans against him. "With you around, my thoughts are all naughty."

[el_tybs]

"Oh? How do you get anything done then?" Once Cyril has settled against him, Sam stretches out his legs as he wraps an arm around Cyril's shoulders. "I was coming along to see your clan and offer support, but it sounds like I'm being a distraction instead."

[samahl]

"A good kind of distraction though, my favorite kind," he teases a bit. Honestly, he wouldn't be as nervous if Sam was with him all of the time.

[arlathvhen]

As they get closer and closer to their destination, Beleth grows clearly more anxious. She doesn't say anything about it, never offers complaints or voices reservations, but she's twitchy and nervous. Often, she'll reach to fix her hair, go over her outfit, straighten any wrinkles. Her hart gets brushed whenever they have time to stop, bordering compulsive in her need to make sure everything about her looks impeccable.

She spends a lot of time pacing, muttering to herself, running her hands through her hair. This is great. She's so happy to be going home.

[samahl]

"If you aren't careful," Cyril says as he brings over a pair of apples and comes across her pacing again. "You'll wear holes into the bottom of your feet."

[arlathvhen]

Beleth jolts with a start, too busy in her own world to even see Cyril approaching. She gives a sheepish laugh, looking down at her feet, and stopping, for the moment. She puts her hands on her waist, and sighs.

"I know. I just--I want to be prepared. She's going to have questions. I want to give her good answers."

[samahl]

Cyril offers up one of the apple to her then, planning to toss it towards her once she gives the okay. "You can practice off me if that will help."

[arlathvhen]

Beleth holds out her hand, catching the apple with a grateful nod. She's not quite sure how much she can practice with Cyril, when he's one of the subjects she fears might come up. But at least talking to someone else will be less odd than talking circles around herself silently.

"Pel and Gavin are both currently indisposed with important missions assigned to them before this request came," Beleth begins, even if it might not be entirely true--particularly for Gavin. But Creators help her, that's not an argument she wants to get into. "It's a mark of how much faith the Inquisition puts in our clan, that they've been given tasks that are so critical that they can't be spared."

[kallian_endris]

The Dalish members of the group aren't the only elves showing nerves on the way. Kallian is also clearly anxious, distracting herself by being at the ready to offer what kindnesses she can to the others, whether with a cup of her own blends of herbal teas, or a story or a song.

When only paying attention to herself, though, she can sometimes be heard softly practicing her elvhen skills, the songs, the language lessons she's been taught. She often absently touches her face, all too aware of its unmarked nature. She's the only city elf in the group, and she wonders how the clan will receive her.

[samahl]

It's one of the times that she's practicing her language that he comes upon her. "Your pronunciation is wonderful," he comments, lightly, trying not to surprise her too much by sneaking up on her.

[kallian_endris]

"You don't think it sounds too Orlesian?" she asks, biting nervously at her thumb. "My mother taught me my first Dalish words, the things she had learned from my father, and I worry I use too much of her accent..."

[samahl]

"There is an accent but it doesn't take too much away from it." He thinks for a moment. "If our goal is to bring the language back to every elf, that means we have to get used to hearing the words spoken with accents."

[kallian_endris]

"Thank you. I'm probably overthinking all of this. I just... I don't want to be that elf, you know? I'm the only cityborn along, and... I don't want to be an embarrassment to anyone..."

[el_tybs]

He is all too aware of everyone's nervousness, especially Kallian's considering how much she seems to be practicing. For a time he watches, giving her her space, but when she touches her face again he moves closer. "You should make some tea for yourself," he says as he walks over, drinking his own cup that she had brewed before. "Doing alright over here?

[kallian_endris]

"I will before bed," she promises.

But at his question, she hesitates. "Um..."

Guile is not something that comes very naturally to her, and it's hard to lie to Sam as it is--he's a healer, just as she is. He knows how to look for something wrong.

"Honestly?" Her voice is soft. "I'm terrified. I don't want to mess this up. I mean, yes, I've not had any trouble with the Dalish at Skyhold, but this... this is different. I've learned so much, but I'm still an outsider, and a child by elf standards. I just want to be someone my father could be proud of."

[el_tybs]

"Hm." Hearing Kalli's worries he moves a bit closer and takes a seat, cradling his tea more firmly as he does so. "Well... you're not the only one worried about coming along." Sam lets out a slow sigh then takes a drink before raising his brows. "I wish I could tell you everything is going to be alright - I think you're wonderful, but I'm not Dalish."

[kallian_endris]

"No... you're not..." she agrees thoughtfully, "Fortunately, I don't think the Asharas are the sort that kill humans on sight. I could put some protection spells on you, just in case, if you want..."

She's only half-joking.

"If they give you trouble, both Cyril and I will vouch for you. Promise."