faderift | (no subject)

Galadriel is so focused on her task that the sudden approach of Barkley catches her off guard. For a moment she's left scowling in confusion at the excitable dog--fortunately, that moment passes and, with Merrill's approach, a smile spreads across her face. She crouches to pet the dog, as it clearly wishes her to, and offer's Merrill a nod of greeting.

"Truly, of all things that have ever become tangled in my hair, Barkley remains one of my favorites," Galadriel says and regards the other elf. "Greetings, mellon nin, I did not expect to cross paths with you this day."

Flipping back over, Barkley licks at Galadriel's hands before flopping on the ground beside them, tail still wagging. He's perfectly content to watch the pair for a while, and Merrill is perfectly content to reach for one of Galadriel's hands, dog slobber or not.

"There's not a lot of room for an aravel up in Skyhold, so I tend to stay down here," Merrill explains, gesturing toward it -- it's set a bit away and the sails are down, but it's definitely not the tents or Kestrel House of the rest of the camp. "You should come and see it!"

Just don't mind the painting of David Bowie inside. That is not, in fact, a cornerstone of Dalish culture.

Her task is not urgent, not terribly at least, so she does not resist as Merrill takes her hand and leads her toward her aravel. The structure is small but unique and, inside, it is surprisingly comfortable. Galadriel is, at first, uncertain how to comment on it--her own feelings about ships are complex and not easily translated to the aravels of the Dalish, and she is not terribly fond of small spaces--but her smile persists.

"This is a remarkable home," Galadriel says. "Did you build it, or travel to Skyhold with it?"

"Built it!" She's terribly proud, as a matter of fact. "I mean, I had help, but-" Her own smile flickers for a moment and she glances down, watching as Barkley settles himself on some furs.

Her free hand brushes her bangs out of her eyes and she shakes her head, then perks up again. "I thought it would be good to have a mobile place for everything. The Dalish are used to having to pick up and go at a moment's notice, and- well. Did anyone tell you what happened to Haven, where the Inquisition used to be based?"

She's not waiting for an answer. "Corypheus attacked with his army and his dragon. The Herald had to set off an avalanche for people to escape alive. She didn't. I never met her, but- I mean, it's not as though we're in a space less prone to natural disasters."

"I was told, though not in so precise a manner," Galadriel says. "I arrived in Haven; while the threat of such devastation persists, it is wise to have a home that can be moved."

Galadriel's gaze drifts from Merrill to the various things kept in her aravel, to her painting and her furs and, as she looks, she pauses to pet Barkley once more.

"You are a skilled craftsman, Merrill. Do you intend to build more of these aravels for the other Dalish that reside here, or have they chosen another path?"

"If they ask, I suppose." Barkley leans into the touch, snuffling a little in the furs. Merrill shrugs slightly, purposefully not looking at Galadriel or even her own dog.

"I don't- know. I don't know if all of them will go back to their clans, or if they want aravels, or..." She presses her lips together, tight. "My clan is dead. All of them. I wasn't welcome among them or other Dalish even before that, but after... I'm only welcome to the ones that know the full story, and not even to all of them. I grasp for the remnants of my culture and I'm abandoned by the living pieces of it as a result."

There is a little sniffle. Sorry, Galadriel; you likely had no idea this was such a loaded question. Merrill didn't realize it, but as soon as she started speaking, she couldn't stop. Galadriel reminds her of a Keeper, a mother, someone who cares. Someone she hasn't had in some time.

"I've lived among elves in the city for the past ten years. I'm not- it's my path that's different."

Merrill's answer is unexpected, insofar as any answer could be, and Galadriel pauses her wandering to return her attention to the young Dalish elf. Her clan was dead? She was unwelcome among her kin? It is a terrible fate and one that has heaped sorrow onto Merrill's shoulders. Already she's bowed, just slightly, beneath the weight of it.

Galadriel turns back to her and pauses a moment before reaching out to settle a hand on her shoulder. It seems she must do this often, so many of her kin here suffer unduly, but she finds she doesn't mind it in the slightest.

"Do not despair walking a different path, mellon nin," Galadriel says quietly. "It is hard, but all paths diverge eventually.

"Will you tell me of your troubles, or is the hardship too near?"

The hand settles on her shoulder and Merrill leans in immediately, seeking out more touch, more comfort. She tries so hard to not be seen like this, to be the one who is upbeat, who offers smiles and brings them. But here she is.

"Does it ever seem farther away?" There's a faint, sad laugh, but Merrill lifts her head. "My clan found an eluvian in ancient ruins. It had the Darkspawn taint, somehow; we don't know how that was even possible. It killed two of them, but it was a powerful artifact, something amazing left from days so far past. When we fled from the Blight to Kirkwall, I took it with us."

She takes a breath. "Sundermount is a mountain with a lot of history, where the Veil is thin. Our clan camped beneath it. There was a spirit -- and I say spirit because they are considered the same, to the Dalish, not mortal and therefore always with the potential to be dangerous, just as fire can help or hurt. He taught me ways to work on the eluvian, including blood magic. But my clan was scared by the taint and by my work. When Hawke met the clan, Keeper Marethari asked her to take me with her. So. I went."

She takes a breath, rubs a hand over her face. "A few years later, I went back. Keeper Marethari still considered me Dalish and let me invoke the right of vir sulevanan -- the right of any Dalish to claim the property of our people in exchange for an errand. We killed a varterral, ancient guardians created before Arlathan, that had killed three hunters. But- one member ran from me on sight, right into it. All because the Keeper had told them I might bring the taint back with me. And then she tried to get me to return, to abandon my work, to abandon something of our people and I just- I couldn't. And I couldn't leave the friends I had made, either."

Now she shuts her eyes, trying to will the tears back. It doesn't work, but she manages to keep her voice steady, even as they fall down her cheeks.

"I still wasn't able to fix it. I wanted to ask Audacity, who said he had seen the eluvian made. But I couldn't reach him. So we went to the top of Sundermount, where he was contained, and found... we found..."

Now she sobs, all but crumpling into Galadriel.

"Marethari released him and let him possess her, fearing that he would use the eluvian to possess me. The things that had been my teachers attacked us and we- we had to defend ourselves. She was killed. And then the clan came, and they wouldn't listen when we tried to tell them what had happen, and then they attacked, and I-"

It was her. It was her fault. It was always her fault and they hate her and they are right to hate her, and Merrill sobs as she drops to the floor, face in her hands.

"I killed them. I killed all of them, somehow, and I never, never wanted it, I just wanted- I wanted to reclaim what we had lost. And I lost it all."

Galadriel listens as Merrill explains, as she speaks of her clan and the events that caused their deaths. To be parted from her people is a steep price for any cause, to fight them to the death because of fear, of distrust, that is beyond imagining. Galadriel cannot help but feel for her, for the sorrow that poured off of her as she wept in her new home.

There is much of the story that Galadriel does not understand, details that have caught her curiosity, but she refrains from asking. It is not the time, nor the place to question the contents of Merrill's admission.

"I fear this is a pain that does not grow distant with time," Galadriel says gently and kneels alongside Merrill. "It is a pain that all of my people share, in one fashion or another, and I am sorry that you know it, even despite your short years.

"I could offer you council, if you wish it, but I would rather offer something dearer if I may," she continues and reaches to take one of Merrill's hands in her own. It is damp with the elf's tears and Galadriel's heart breaks for her--it is, perhaps, too easy to see a shade of herself in Merrill.

"I cannot abide an elf left so alone; if you wish it I would welcome you as kin of mine and name you one of my people. Already our tales are too similar for comfort or reason; if you would take me as your cousin perhaps some of our misfortunes could be explained away.

"At the very least, neither of us would be quite so alone any longer."

The grief feels almost new every time she feels it, the tears as hot and sharp as they were that first time. Galadriel is a new presence in her sorrow, and she offers a new balm: one Merrill does not think she has heard correctly, at first. As a result, Galadriel gets a rather bewildered, tear-ridden stare as she tries to work out what else the other elf could have possibly meant.

Finding nothing, Merrill immediately begins sobbing again, throwing her free arm around Galadriel's neck to embrace her.

"You would call me a member of your family? Even after what I've done?" It wasn't her choice, to kill them all, but she still did it. She can't ever forget that. "I can't say no to such a- such a kind offer, and I wouldn't want you to be alone." Galadriel has Thranduil as her cousin, but they are two in a sea of strangers. Merrill may be just as strange and new, but at least she would be Galadriel's piece of strange and new.

Funny, how much easier it is to allow ones self something when you can say it's for the benefit of another.

Edited 2016-12-03 21:53 (UTC)

It has been many centuries since an elf last threw themselves at her as Merrill does now and yet, despite all that time, Galadriel's reaction is reflexive. She wraps an arm around the young woman and settles a hand against the back of her head, drawing it against her shoulder as she sobs. She whispers words of comfort, assurances that her offer is genuine, and it takes several long moments before she realizes she's lapsed into Sindarin.

"Mine is a house weighed down by many tragedies and mistakes; we have turned out our kin and been turned out in kind many times over. You are in like company among us, mell neth," Galadriel says in the common speak and idly strokes her fingers through Merrill's short hair.

"But now we are one soul stronger, and I am glad of it." She draws back, just slightly, but doesn't release the younger elf.

"Had I told you that my mother's family built ships? They were not unlike your aravel, save that they traveled by water and were far less charming. I have neither seen nor spoken to those relatives in many thousands of years; coming to your home is rather like coming home to my own. Is that not fortunate?"

Whether they are words she knows or not, the tone and the touch are enough to convey the meaning. She clings to it, to the fact that she is not alone, that she is not the only one who has done horrible things against clan and kin. She never wanted to, and she does not know if that is true of whatever happened to Galadriel and those like her -- but tragedies, mistakes, they happen. Who would know better than her? When there are none alive who can offer forgiveness, where do you find it?

"Despite all the horrible things happening -- if you had to be dragged into this world, I am glad I was able to meet you as a result." The Inquisition has helped her find family where her clan is dead and her Kirkwall family has scattered. It has done good even in that seemingly small way, and Merrill will always remember it.

Still, she isn't unhappy about the change of topic, either. There's a little shake of her head, something both embarrassed and pleased in the color of her cheeks (beyond the red from her tears). "You hadn't. You're welcome to visit it whenever you'd like, though!" That's always been true, but Merrill tends to forget that other people don't realize that without express invitation. "Though no offense to your mother's family, but I prefer not being inside ships that go on water. Maybe up on the deck, but otherwise I was horribly sick."

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry about the delay, my wrist decided i wasn't allowed to use it for 3 weeks :'|

No worries D: Bad wrist, hurt less and be cooperative.

it is the rudest