faderift | (open) our memory will be my lullaby

Passage through the Frostbacks is not easy. It would certainly make anyone planning an attack on Skyhold to think twice because if the mountains did not make the trip ever so miserable then the cold winter winds certainly would. With two horses, a large cart and four sick passengers means that Saoirse's own trip has been slow going. It has taken one long week since they entered the Frostbacks through Orlais until Skyhold finally came into view. It was much more grand than stories had told, and it had even roused the better of her passengers into sitting up in order to see their approach first hand.

She stops deep in valley, spying both fellow refugees and even Wardens among the tents. It feels completely different here than it is in the cities and she is not even in Skyhold proper. Saoirse coos to the two horses leading her cart as she hops down, letting her staff help lead her steps along the uneven the ground as she approaches anyone that might be near.

"Pardon," She begins, bright Starkhaven accent and nudges her hood back enough to show her wind reddened face. "I have people in my protection in desperate need of a healer. They've been sickened working to mine red lyrium while others have been infected."

With her passengers finally in the good hands of Skyhold's healers and horses tucked away in the stables for rest, Saoirse finally takes the chance to rest. It feels like it has been a long, long time since she has had the chance to do something so very simple but these years have been equally long. Some days it feels like she has not truly rested once since those harsh days in Kirkwall's blood soaked streets where every moment felt like it just might be her last but then she made it back to Starkhaven only to shortly rush back into that harsh storm.

It was quite different from her days in the Circle when she had her books, classes and songs. Even now, she quietly sings from her spot outside the healing tents as she waits to her news. Her bruised hands hold onto a smooth pendant made of red stone and with the Chantry sun carved into its face. Those familiar with Chantry hymns will likely recognize her quietly sung song and even if those not familiar with those hymns might simply note just how heartfelt her voice is as she sings.

Otherwise, she picks at the small amount of food she carried with her into Skyhold. Hard cheese and bread, it isn't a lot but enough for her after a week with even less to make sure that those with her that had been sick got what they needed.

"Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow."

She adores the little space that has been carved out in Skyhold's walls for a chapel. Saoirse has seen many little makeshift chapels and has sat before even more in her darker hours so that she might have these peaceful little moments. They are, in truth, the moments when she feels most at peace even if this place is utterly unknown to her. There is comfort to be found in the candlelight and in the sunlight streaming in through the chapel's window that laminates the statue of Andraste ever so perfectly.

It is enough to calm her nerves and so she sits, head bowed and eyes closed as she prays.

"In their blood the Maker's will is written."

Inessa is sitting near a campire, relaxing with Garahel after a riveting game of fetch. Between her muscular foot-warmer and fire, she's recovering well from exerting herself in the snow...and then that familiar Starkhaven accent brings both recognition and a cold pit of dread in her stomach. Red lyrium poisoning. Having seen the damage that substance can do, far more than most, she swallows hard and tries not to think about that particular cave and what happened in it.

"I...yes, of course. Garahel, get up. We have people to assist." The mabari stretches and obeys, wagging his tail but letting out a sympathetic whine. As she moves to stand and grab her staff, Inessa gets a better look at that face and stops to stare for a moment. "...we've met, haven't we?"

She's almost certain of it, though at the time, Inessa had neither Grey Warden armor nor a canine companion.

Korrin doesn't usually hang around the healing tents without reason, since it's a hangout for Anders and in the name of not getting kicked out of the Inquisition, she keeps such encounters to an absolute minimum. Plus, healing tents are boring. She should know, having been forced into resting before.

But it's on the way to other places, and the quiet singing causes her to spot the woman she'd met in the Hinterlands. Bear attacks have a way of jogging the memory like that. And she'd heard something about recent arrivals filling the healing tents; some kind of poisoning, the poor bastards. The Vashoth woman doesn't head over immediately, but after a side trip to the tavern returns with a mug of something steaming.

"Saoirse, right? From the Crossroads? Here, thought you could use some tea while you wait."

"Singing for your supper?" A short young man ducks from the tents, fumbling at the flap from a bandaged hand. "It's got to be worth more than that."

An owlish look to the plate — that tracks quickly enough to her battered fingers. His head tips in curiously, expression betrays the slightest hint of concern.

"How long have you been out here?"

Christine is down in the valley to check in on a few people who wouldn't bear the trip up to Skyhold very well. It's as she leaves a tent that she's stopped by the elf, and her eyebrows lift in surprise as she hears the story. Eyes flickering past the woman, she then focuses back on her and nods. She has so many questions, but she needs to make sure these people are out of harm's way first.

"I am a healer. Shall I tend to them in the wagon, or would you like to bring them up to the healing tents at Skyhold?"

Saoirse stands quiet as she watches the Warden move into action. There has been so many rumors and harsh words toward their Order as of late but it is nice to see that, like many things, there is always more than one side to the stories whispered among people around Thedas.

As she steps back, she lowers her hood to her shoulders and blinks curiously. Have the met? She has met so many in these past few years that names and even faces sometimes tend to blur together but there are not many white haired elves out there in the world.

"Hmm. A quiet village not far outside Val Royeaux if I am not mistaken. I was singing there one night, we talked a bit and you shared with me a few book recommendations." It is said with a light, amused tone. "My name is Saoirse, I had just arrived not long ago from Kirkwall at the time."

"I think it would be best if we can bring them to the tents. We've been on the road for some time now and I am sure they would appreciate the chance to leave the wagon."

As she speaks, Saoirse is already turning and heading back toward the wagon. She tries to appear strong but it is hard for some relief not to spill out after such a hard time since they had set out.

"Will you ride with us?"

Honestly, Saorise would likely think the same if she knew about the mage whose name was on everyone's lips back in Kirkwall. She would think it, of course but it is doubtful that she would act out. Her friends needed help, and she would get them help, no matter the cost.

She is still singing when Korrin approaches and offers a bright smile to the familiar face. It is quite hard to forget bear attacks and even harder to forget those that helped you survive said bear attacks. Needless to say, she is surprised by the steaming mug but happily accepts it.

"Mm. You got it in one." She says, chuckling. "And thank you for the tea. If nothing else it will be nice to feel my fingers again."

"I'd sing something a little more cheery if that was the case."

She'd definitely have gotten out an instrument if that was the case. After all, Saoirse was not unfamiliar with having to sing for a few extra coin or even food in some cases. Usually they were tavern jobs, nightly bard work but she has sat at the corner of some busy street once or twice.

"Perhaps an hour," She says, peeking at the sky. "Two at the most."

Since the fall of the Circles it is perhaps odd to say that the taverns around the world have been something of something of a second home for Saoirse. It is said with utter truth though, and within a day or two of her arrival she finds herself there one night singing to those patrons that have come through the door to the Herald's Rest.

The other bards have taken rest for the time which makes for the perfect chance for her to gather up her lute, take a spot on the first floor and begins to sing.

It is likely most patrons will not an understand a word of the language born within Starkhaven's alienage but it is clear that she is putting her heart into each word. She wishes for those listening to love the song as much as she does.

Edited 2017-01-24 05:56 (UTC)

All things considered, Ciri does not truly like going down into the dungeons in the belly below Skyhold. There is a damp smell that sticks to her senses and she dislikes the darkness creeping in the corners just beyond the corner of her vision. Most of all, Ciri does not like having to pass by the prisoners of this war that the Inquisition has taken.

Mostly she does not like having to see Clarel de Chanson, the former Warden-Commander of Orlais. The last time she had seen the woman was months prior in a drunken stupor when she had stumbled down her and yelled until the guards dragged her away.

But! The adorable griffons are here and she will do terrible things for these bird children. Which is why she is hauling a bag of terrible scraps down here in a large bag with her best friend in the whole world.

"Do you think they would eat bear meat? I've been thinking of going out and finding one," She says suddenly, eyes sparkling. "A pelt would make for a nice blanket since it has been so cold."

Half truth because mostly she just wants to fight one.

Edited 2017-01-24 06:10 (UTC)

Although Ciri does not spend much time within Skyhold's walls she is currently in a the midst of a bout of cabin fever. Or, perhaps, fortress fever would be the better term for now. Outside of the events at the Winter Palace she has not traveled as much in these last few months between the winter weather and work needing to be done around the valley camp in order for her not to freeze in the middle of the night.

It's finally one relatively nice day that she finally snaps. By snapping, of course, one means planning out a ridiculous day trip along the mountain trails and down into the Ferelden countryside proper for some supplies. Kelpie needed new shoes as well and as much as she appreciated the work that the keepers did here, they were backed up with orders and again: she needed to get away from this place for a bit.

With Inessa busy with her own work, it perhaps isn't a surprise that she marches up to Skyhold and pays a visit to the kitchens. It is still very early in the morning but she knows that the staff hasn't begun working on breakfast just yet. Making her way down the stairs, she peeks into the kitchen where everyone is still getting ready for the day until she spots a familiar face and waves a hand.

"Psst."

Congrats, Avery. A certain Warden is trying to gain your attention.

The meal's sad enough to fit, but his months with the Inquisition haven't robbed Alan of all respect for food. You don't mock what you've got, let alone what another might.

He follows her glance up, to the afternoon clouds. The air's clear here, and fresh, but even at this height they can't escape the creep of green.

"Two hours too many in this cold." He shakes his head, and after a moment, remembers to offer a smile. "Who are you waiting for?"

There's warmth enough indoors, and richer fare than this. To shirk it, well. She must want something of the people within. Whether he might do anything about it, Alan is't yet sure.

"Of course." Her long strides have her catching up in only two steps and she walks alongside her back to the wagon. "My name is Christine. I am a Spirit Healer, but I can also use non-magical techniques if anyone is not comfortable with magic being used on them." She always gives her patients the choice if they are conscious and able to decide.

Sometimes, it's good to get a break in between all of the training and other responsibilities he has. As Kain settles in with his drink, he relaxes... somewhat... and listens to the music. He may not be familiar with the language at all, but it's all very pleasing to the ear overall. He finds himself closing his eyes for a moment and just listening.

When she's done, he approaches, since he's heading past her direction to get a refill anyway.

"That was incredible. Well done... An elven language, I assume?"

Her memory jogged, Inessa nods readily as a brief smile returns to her face. Those were, oddly, simpler times. The Circles falling seems to pale in comparison to a darkspawn magister causing the entire south to descend into chaos, after all.

"That's right, it's coming back to me now. I'm Inessa...well, Warden Serra now. My companion is Garahel." The mabari perks up and barks happily, tail wagging. He loves meeting new people. "I...know the basic healing spell, though for the effects of red lyrium, it's best that we take your companions up to the healing tents in Skyhold. The Spirit Healers will have the best chance of helping them, I'm sure."

There's a wry smile from Korrin as she nods. "I thought as much. I know what it's like to wait outside these tents for word about those inside. It takes a toll, doesn't it? If it helps, I know plenty of the healers inside; they're the best I've seen, and I know they won't stop until they've done all they can."

The dungeons is not Inessa's favorite place in the world either, to be sure. Not normally as confrontational as Ciri, she avoids looking anywhere near the former Warden-Commander, preferring to ignore her presence entirely. There are much more pleasant things to focus on, such as their feathery, rapidly growing, brood.

For once Garahel is not at her side, as she's trying to get them accustomed to her presence first without a big, loud, presence which might just rile them up. She holds her own (smaller) bag as best she can, not able to carry nearly as much but wanting to contribute. Ciri's mood is infectious and met with a grin. "There's only one way to be certain, is there? Though if you're intent on doing so, at least don't leave Garahel and I behind. We'll make shorter work of it together."

Hopefully that means it'll go down before attracting more of its kind, as they always seem to do.

Sorry, babe. If you really want Avery's attention, you're going to have to try a little harder than that. And you can't blame her for missing it either, okay? It's very early and she's also very focused right now!

It's only when Burly gives her a light tap with his massive elbow and subtly nods toward the door (trying and failing to hide a smirk) that Avery finally notices she has a guest and sends a confused look back and forth between the two of them. Though by this point, the hulking Tal-Vachef has already gotten back to work as if nothing happened at all.

Which ummm, okay, weirdos. Silently, Avery just raises an eyebrow in Ciri's direction and waits for some sort of help here.

"It is a pleasure to meet you once again, Warden Serra." She says, smiling and cutely curtsying with a small lift of her winter cloak. "And it is a great pleasure to meet you, Garahel. A good name for such a handsome companion."

Although Saoirse is not from Fereldan, she has something of a soft spot for the dog breed that is so very important to them and their history. As a child there was a boy in the alienage with one and she had always imagined one would have been good companions on the road. With one more smile to Garahel, she looks to Inessa and nods.

"Yes, thank you. I have done as I can with my own magic but I was never talented in healing spells. Could you show me the way? I wish to get them to help as soon as I can."

Climbing back into her seat at the head of the wagon, she dips her head in greeting and offers a tired smile. "Tapadh leibh, Christine. My name Saoirse."

Quietly, she cannot but thank the Maker that she so easily found a Spirit Healer. She would be able to offer much more help than Saoirse had been able to with her own less than brilliant healing spells. Once the fellow mage is on the wagon, she sets off toward the fortress itself but quietly glances over her shoulder and into the wagon where her friends rest.

"They are fine with magic. I have used my own to keep them stable on our journey but little else," She says, sighing. "Creation spells were never my strong suit, sadly."

If a mabari can look smug, Garahel manages it. He bumps up against Saoirse gently, as a sign of affection, then turns to his mistress. Inessa nods, sympathy in her eyes for what must have been a difficult journey.

"Of course. If you need any potions to tide them over until we reach them, I have a few available. Garahel, shall we lead them?" In response, the mabari heads in the direction of a well-worn path up to the fortress, then turns around and barks. Come on!

"It can be rought but, in truth, this is the best I have felt since we departed for Skyhold. I know that if anything can be done to help them then I shall find that help here."

Of course, Saoirse does wish she could do more but she knows that she has done all she can. She takes a greedy sip of the tea and sighs pleasantly, grinning.

"Iongantach! It has been too long since I've had such wonderful tea."

(open) our memory will be my lullaby

ARRIVAL | OTA

HEALING TENTS | OTA

CHAPEL | OTA

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HERALD'S REST | OTA

GRIFFONS | INESSA

DAY TRIP | AVERY

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