there ain't language for the things i've seen

[alankazam]

WHO: Alan + Kain, Medicine Seller, Thingol, Bruce, Jaime + OTA
WHAT: Gotta catch 'em all
WHEN: Post-Winter Palace
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: N/A

Starters in comments. If we agreed to do something and I missed you, just let me know on Plurk or Discord (oeste #8807). :)

If you'd like a specific starter, or if anything needs altering, please feel free to hit me up. If we have a Winter Palace Pt. II thread going, I'd like to finish those off first!

Comments

[arlathvhen]

"Oh, Alan, I'm sorry."

A lot of people lost a lot of things to the Blight--mostly Fereldans. Beleth had been a teenager, old enough to understand, though it hardly effected her. Still. She hesitates, then reaches to gently pat Alan's arm. An attempt at comfort, though it can hardly make up for the loss.

"They--they killed Andraste?" It's not like Beleth has particularly strong feelings towards Andraste, but--it obviously upset Alan. "They've always been nice to me. They let me stay with them after the Templars kept bothering me." She gives his arm another little comforting squeeze. "I'm--I'm sure it was a mistake. But I'm still sorry, Alan. That must have been...very difficult."

There's a brief pause.

"My gods were betrayed, too. They were locked away by someone they thought was their friend. It's--it's hard. Feeling like you've been left behind. But we believe the day will come when they return to us." She glances at Alan, giving him a smile. "I'm sure Andraste will return to you, too."

[alankazam]

"It's alright," It's not, but neither is it anything that he can change. And that means that it has to be. "I wasn't alone. No one ever is."

Not truly, and that's worth remembering. Loneliness is the lie that civilization tells, too busy looking inward to look around itself. Sitting by himself in the Wilds, beside a body in the grass, there was always the world.

He doesn't return the smile this time, but there's a hint of — something, measured, hard to read, in the way he looks at her now.

"And maybe we'll both see them again some day."

At the Maker's side, or in another skin. Gods and men alike have souls. But, more pressing —

"The Templars were bothering you?" His brow furrows.

[arlathvhen]

He truly is hard to read, and Beleth prides herself on her ability to read other people. She does it subconsciously more often than not, trying to gauge what reactions they like, what personality they find most engaging. But Alan hasn't shown dislike so far, so Beleth is probably is doing an...okay, job. At least.

"I'm sure we will." Even if it's after they die, and Beleth is holding her oak staff, Falon'Din leading her through the Beyond. She has to believe, because what else can she do, if she doesn't?

But the Templars...there's an embarrassed moment where she ducks her head. Not because the Templars bothered her, but because she has to talk about her failure at being a sneaky sneaky spy. At least she's better now.

"Well--It was a while ago. The Templars had this meeting of all the Templars, a secret meeting, where they were the only ones allowed to attend. And, well. That sounds pretty sketchy, doesn't it? A secret meeting? What do they not want other people to know about? And, well. Their meeting place was in one of the rooms in Skyhold that has a bunch of holes in the ceiling, so..." She gives a quiet laugh, staring at her hands.

"I'm not a mage, but I have a lot of friends who are. And I'm good at being sneaky--but. Not good enough. They heard me, and one of them saw me. I managed to get away, they're all big warriors in big armor and I'm good at climbing." As Alan's seen. "But later on, while I was sleeping, one of them found me and grabbed me. I, um--" Another laugh, but this one is dryer, humorless. She knows it was silly now, and it's been long enough that she can divorce herself from the emotions. But she still remembers. "I truly thought I was going to be executed. I hadn't spent that much time near humans before, and I knew they'd killed elves for less. But she just tried to make me clean the stables." She waves her hand airily. No harm done, except the emotional trauma.

"After that, I stayed with people that I knew Templars wouldn't sneak up on. Even if she didn't kill me, I did't like that she could have. And after the Wardens made their camp, I moved in. Anders lives there, so the Templars stay away." She shrugs. "I know they won't do anything anymore, but I also like having my own space. I wouldn't get that in Skyhold."

[alankazam]

"Korrin doesn't like them," He offers, because this is really about the extent of his opinions on the subject. At least the ones he's willing to talk about — and she's already covered Anders. "If they didn't want anyone to listen, they should've found a sturdier ceiling."

This seems like common sense. He reaches over, attempts to return the light-arm-squeeze manuever.

"It's not like they were the ones sleeping. You did the right thing."

Alan pulls back, shakes his head a little.

"The barracks are too crowded anyway. It's warm, but it's loud."

[arlathvhen]

"I don't blame Korrin for disliking them. They were a real danger to her for most of her life." Nowadays, it's debatable. They may become a threat again, but for now, the Inquisition has managed to effectively defang them.

And she is well aware that the Templars were in the wrong for what they did--it was never a question in her mind, something that stands out for a woman who has made a day job out of blaming herself for everything. But Alan is trying to comfort her, and the effort and sentiment is appreciated more than anything else. She ducks her eyes again, smiling softly.

"Thank you, Alan. I agree about the barracks, though." After a moment, she glances up at him, cocking her head to the side. "You could come stay with me--in the Warden Camp. In your own tent. I'm not--" After a few moments of (poor) attempts at trying to recover her already shaky grasp on dignity, she settles for vague hand gestures with a sigh. "I mean--you know what I mean. There's plenty of room for one more."

[alankazam]

"I suppose," Alan likes Korrin, respects her. But Korrin runs towards danger — and he prefers to only do that when the danger might be interesting. Until recently, templars haven’t qualified.

Still, he listens on the Council, he hears things. He remembers the fear on Morrigan’s face as the red stepped into the room, remembers his own heartbeat racing.

"I hadn’t seen any fighting before we went to the Palace." That’s a lie, of course, but the other time doesn't count. That wasn't combat. Only opportunity, only hunger. "They seemed dangerous to everyone."

It's an odd thing to revisit an apathy that's so well-entrenched. You can only do so much of it in a day. Maybe that’s why he shakes his head at her offer, however kind,

"I don’t own a tent." And he’s not ready to stake it so near to Wardens, if he did. "Perhaps when it’s warmer."

When it gets warmer, the tent won’t even matter. But he’s weathered too many Frostback winters to give up on the gift of a real roof. After a moment, he adds,

"Thank you, too." Not only for the offer — it's been... a long time. Since anyone listened.

[arlathvhen]

"I've been fighting my entire life." Maybe not her entire life, but there have always been fights. There have always been humans seeking to destroy their way of life, their freedom, put them in their place. She pauses for a moment, then because Alan has already been so open with her: "I was fifteen, the first time I killed someone." Her fingers lift to her eye, to the scar that marks it. "He was trying to kill my twin. No--" She pauses, staring at her hands. "He had his knife in my brother's mouth, digging it into the side. Killing may have come later, but--"

She stops, looking up with a startled expression. "Creators. That's--Um. I'm sorry for spilling that on you. That's...um. Well. It's nothing to worry over. It's settled." They are alive, and what Beleth had left of the man's body had been left for the animals. "You don't need to hear all that old nonsense. I just--um. Didn't want you to think I just...killed someone for no reason..."

It was time to change the subject. "You can share with Teren." Then a pause. "Please don't actually try that, I don't want to be responsible for happens to you." And she shoots him a small smile. It's a joke. Please don't think I'm a savage dalish murderer.

"It's no problem. That's what friends do." And another small smile, reaching over to pat his arm slightly. Maybe it's presumptuous, but. There are some things that bind people together, and running from crazy red templars and looting the royal palace is one of them.

[alankazam]

She's speaking, and then she's really speaking, the words a tumble, and his brows draw in.

"I wouldn't think that."

You know. Often, at least. At this point he's pretty sure that their definitions of good reasons don't precisely align. This is something of an exception.

There are things that you do, for the people that you love; or at least there are things that he's always wished to be able to do. He doesn't — doesn't like it at all, what she's done. But he knows what it is to have to do it, what happens if you don't.

He folds a hand atop hers. Friends, then. Yes, that might be,

That might be nice.

"Friends," He agrees. The pact is sealed.