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

[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."