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

Clan Ashara's Black Halla

[dalishious]

The discomfort surrounding Merrick the minute he enters the camp is palpable. The other elves skirt around him, acknowledging him with an awkward nod or wave if they acknowledge him at all. While it's nothing he isn't used to--people give him a wide berth at Skyhold too--this is a different kind of rejection, a stark reminder of what he'd dealt with all through his childhood and adolescence since it happened.

He's been spending most of his time with Metaari, who is at the very least as uncomfortable as he is, but there are moments when he needs to back away and find a quiet spot to breathe. His anxiety is bone-deep, his mind buzzing, and he just wants to leave. He just keeps reminding himself he's here for Beleth, and that he just needs to collect his thoughts before he returns to everyone.

He perches on the bank of a nearby stream, watching the water move, occasionally running his fingers through its cool surface and obscuring his already rippled reflection. 'Just breathe, Merrick. In and out.'

[believeinthisone]

There is one elf who doesn't skirt around him, who doesn't avoid him or act as if he's some sort of wild animal.

She isn't there when the Inquisition arrives because she's with the group of Hunters guarding the Rift and fighting the demons when they manage to break through. She arrives much later when she's done with her shift and goes to find her.

She looks tired, but well. The stress of the situation is heavy on her but not breaking her. She'll catch up with Cyril later, for now she seeks out and finds Merrick. "Aneth ara, banal'ras isenatha."

[dalishious]

Merrick doesn't greet her with Elvhen pleasantries, but does invite her to sit by patting the spot next to him. He doesn't speak, but Kali knows his distaste for words.

He removes his boots and rolls up the legs of his leather pants so he can sink his feet into the river. The rush of cold water against his skin invigorates him, waking him up from where he'd been sinking into his own thoughts.

[arlathvhen]

Deheune doesn't come to him right away. But then, she's the Keeper, she's surely too busy to sit down and talk to everyone immediately. When she does approach Merrick, there is none of the awkwardness, or even fear, that others in her clan express when they're around him. She is as she always is, an implacable, unmovable, force of composed calm. She wears a polite smile on her face as she stops next to him, as though there were nothing out of the ordinary, as if there were nothing amiss to be found.

"Da'len," She greets him, hands clasped firmly behind her back. "You seem uneasy. Are you unwell?" The smile is as firm as the rest of her, as she gently probes him, as though it seemed beyond her why Merrick might be uncomfortable in his current surroundings.

[dalishious]

Though Merrick feels a poignant stab of irritation at her demeanor, there's still a level of security and stability the Keeper radiates that he can't help but respond to. She binds her clan together effortlessly, her presence upright and commanding, though there is one lost halla she has never been able to keep within her fold.

"No," he answers gruffly. He wishes she would go away. He doesn't need her condescension, the constant air of faint disapproval he always sensed from her. He wants to go back to Skyhold.

[arlathvhen]

She watches him quietly, her expression unchanging for a few moments, before she sits down next to him. Back ramrod straight even when she sits on the ground, she watches the water splash by silently for several carefully measured seconds. When she does break the silence, she doesn't turn to him, but continues to gaze at the stream.

"You are one of the last orphans from that harsh period of our clan," She tells him quietly. Which isn't entirely true, but--she's being nice here, give her a break. "And now you're an adult, making your way in the world. But even so, it is in a Keeper's nature to worry, particularly over...those who have no one else to do so. If there is a problem, Merrick, I would desire you to tell me."

[dalishious]

Merrick lets out a derisive laugh, unable to curb his emotions-- just like the child who had screamed and hit and bitten, his tiny body overwhelmed with grief and confusion, only to be treated like an unruly animal no one cared to tame.

"Bullshit, you're worried," he grits out. "Like you've ever worried about me. Like you didn't breathe a sigh of relief once I left for Skyhold and you thought you didn't have to deal with me anymore."

[arlathvhen]

"I forget, age and maturity do not always come in equal portions." Deheune mused, more to herself than to Merrick. "I had hoped, seeing how Cyril had grown, that you would follow after your friend. But then, you are still quite young. Perhaps, one day, you will grow into it." She examines her hand as she speaks, voice calm.

"I've spent a great deal of time worrying about you, Merrick. About you, and what you would become. What effect you might have on the people around you." She lets him dwell on what exactly that might mean for a few moments, before continuing. "But I must wonder, Merrick. If you are so unhappy with me, why did you return when I called for aid?"

[dalishious]

"He's not my friend," Merrick snaps at her. He's on his feet now, absently moving around, agitated. "He's my brother, and he raised me better than you or the rest ever could, had you cared enough to try."

Of course she doesn't care about him, but only his affect on people. It was always about keeping peace within the clan, of pleasing everyone else. That's the only thing he dwells on at the moment; he knows how much of a burden he is on people, how he leaves a trail of death and hurt behind him wherever he goes. She isn't implying anything new.

"I'm here because Beleth asked me to," he adds. "And for Kali."

[arlathvhen]

Deheune waits a moment, then follows Merrick in standing. As he yells, she turns to face him, hands clasped together. The serene look of calm has managed to be dislodged, to be replaced with a look of irritation. It's not a look of someone watching an adult voice his valid concerns, it's a look that was given to a child, only a dozen or so years ago, that kicked and screamed with an incoherent rage. An annoyance, a burden that must be shouldered in the name of responsibility.

"My dear," She says, her voice reproachful, "I have born and raised siblings. I know how they interact." She glances back towards the camp thoughtfully, raising her eyebrows. "I suppose it is...rather ironic, that Beleth brought you here, since she went to Skyhold for you." Now she glances at Merrick, expression grim. "And now you have a qunari, and she has far more scars than she left with. I hope that following her turns out better for you."

[dalishious]

"Don't talk to me about what's good for Beleth," Merrick snarls at her. All the anger and frustration he'd stored away seems to return full force, pulverizing him. His fists are clenched so tightly he feels his nails bite into his skin, and he's trembling, dizzy. He needs Cyril or Pel, needs someone to hold him back, but he's alone and reeling.

"She's a mess because of you," he fires at Deheune, at the maddeningly placid figure standing across from him. "She never thinks she's good enough, she's constantly nervous-- All you've ever done is judge her, and me."

[arlathvhen]

There's a flicker across her face, a momentary loss of that unshakable calm. She looks, instead, scandalized--that he would dare say something like that to her, and about her own daughter. Her fists clench, and she has to walk, take steps away from Merrick, face turned towards where the camp lay. She takes time to collect herself, before she continues speaking, but it's obvious that she's irritated--her voice drips with bitter poison.

"And you know better? You know what's good for Beleth? You let her follow you into the world of the shemlen, let her be separated from her family, from the people who love her--because, Merrick--" She turns around, now facing Merrick, slowly approaching him.

"--I love my daughter, and I am proud of her. To make iron stronger, it must be laid in the fire, and I did that for her. And she is stronger because of it. But you let her follow you to Skyhold, and then--what? Traded her for that Metaari?" She stops, a fair distance away from Merrick, eyes flashing. "Though...I suppose I should be glad. I feared the day I would wake up, and you would be my son-in-law."

She takes a breath, glancing to the side. "Yes, I think that it's for the best, really."

[dalishious]

Merrick doesn't stop to collect himself, can't. He feels the years reel back and he's a child again, desperately grasping for attention and love, and it's humiliating in the way that only she can inspire. It's always been her, he realizes. The wicked words and taunts and scathing looks from the other elves could have bounced off him, had she built a protective barrier against them-- instead, there had been nothing but cold silence.

"So it's all coming out now," he replies, his voice low and shaking. "Keep going. Tell me how you really feel. I want to hear it from your lips."

His nails bite into the skin of his palms. "Tell me how you felt about my father, too. You didn't want to handle him, either. 'Salhasine Élan', everyone called him. You thought he was a disgrace, an embarrassment to your perfect, orderly clan, didn't you? And then he killed himself, and you were left with me."

For Merrick to defend his father is shocking, unheard of. His voice cracks as he continues his tirade. "You didn't stop the adults who whispered about me, and their children when they painted gourds to look like heads they could roll at my feet-- trying to see if they can make me cry and piss myself, trying to see how far they could push before I snap--"

The corners of his eyes start to prickle with the first drops of tears he'd shed since he was eight years old. "I was alone. I was mad with grief and confusion and fear--maybe I still am--and I just needed someone to understand, to hold my hand, to tell me it was going to be all right. But you didn't want me there-- Cyril was the one who convinced you to let me stay. And it's still that way. Just tell me. Be honest for once in your life-- When I left for Skyhold, all you wanted was for me to never return."

[arlathvhen]

There's another flash across her face, ugly and angry. She turns her head away from Merrick while he rants, giving herself time to compose herself. This wasn't how Keepers were supposed to act, and if Deheune could be given credit for anything, it would be for being an exemplary Keeper--no matter the cost. Even when the cost is standing in front of her, crying and angry. And Keepers do not lash out. So she waits.

She speaks before she turns to him, voice starting low and dangerous. "I will assume that changing the subject means that you accept my assertion regarding my daughter." And, naturally, feeling that she won that particular argument bolsters her for the next argument Merrick has. She straightens herself, expression more composed. She's still not back to that implacable calm, it's still clear to see that she is displeased with this tantrum that this ungrateful child is daring to throw.

"I think, Merrick, that you give me too much credit. I am the Keeper, but I do not hold the clan in total control. They do not bend blindly my every word. What was I supposed to do? Start hitting everyone who argues with me? Not all of us find that an appropriate reaction." She turns to face him now, shaking her head. "If you want to know why they kept their distance, why they whispered, you merely need to turn and look at the reflection in the river. Look at yourself, right now. Look at how you behave. You act like a child, throwing a tantrum and refusing to be responsible for your own actions."

She raises a hand to her forehead, giving a long, slow sigh. "I have one more lesson for you, Merrick. May it aid you in whatever path you walk. Always. Always be in control of yourself. That is a problem you've always had. The way that people treat you, the way that the world reacts to you--if you want to have any control over that, you must control yourself. And until you have that control, you will always be...a risk. To yourself, and to others. And the people that know this will treat you accordingly."

Her expression is...almost benevolent. Almost. But there's an underlying scorn, that even she can't quite hide. "What I want, Merrick, is what I have always wanted, what I have wanted and worked for, long before you were ever born. The safety and security of my clan. I want you, Merrick, to not be a threat to that. Whether through growing into a more mature elf, or..." She trails off, hesitating for a moment. "...if you can't do that much, then whatever else achieves that goal."

[arlathvhen]

It might appear that Beleth didn't need him at all, that she's doing just fine being back in the clan. Her reception from her clanmates couldn't be more different from Merrick's if she had tried, and she's greeted warmly by many of them, all of whom get warm smiles in return. But when she does drift to Merrick's side, there's a tension in her body, a puppet whose strings are being pulled too tight. The smile that's stubbornly glued to her face is strained, even as she nods to another elf passing by.

"Do you think the rifts are a two-way kind of deal?" She asks Merrick, her voice low. "I wonder if I could climb into the one that's causing such a fuss and be done with the whole thing. Surely I could pop out of another one, right?" Then her smile finally fades away, to be replaced by a somber expression, as she turns to face Merrick.

"Thank you for coming. I really do appreciate it, you know."

[dalishious]

Merrick had been a bit uneasy at first, uncertain of Beleth's feelings toward him, but a promise is a promise. Now that they're both here, any tension they may have felt toward one another seems insignificant in comparison.

He shrugs at her thanks. "I promised I'd come," he mutters, then lies on his back, arms pillowed behind his head. "And I'll climb in that rift with you."

[arlathvhen]

She settles down next to him, and begins removing her boots and stockings. The silence stretches, and while it's tinged with a little awkwardness, it's not nearly as oppressive as the silences her mother casts. This is far more comfortable, when words simply didn't need to be said.

When she does speak, Beleth starts out with a sigh. "She hasn't changed. Still makes me feel like a child when I'm around her." She rolls up her pants legs, sticking her feet into the stream. While she speaks comfortably enough, there are little signs of distance--she doesn't sit as close to Merrick as she would have, once, and she doesn't look at him as she speaks.

"But...I think she's pleased with what I've been doing. Or...she doesn't disapprove, at least."