Fade Rift Mods (
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faderift2017-04-02 10:59 pm
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Entry tags:
- ! open,
- { alan fane },
- { alistair },
- { anders },
- { araceli bonaventura },
- { bellamy blake },
- { christine delacroix },
- { clarke griffin },
- { freddie durfort-lacapalette },
- { inessa serra },
- { james norrington },
- { jamie mccrimmon },
- { jim kirk },
- { korrin ataash },
- { leonard church },
- { luwenna coupe },
- { malcolm reed },
- { merrill },
- { prompto argentum },
- { rachette dakal },
- { samouel gareth },
- { the medicine seller },
- { twelfth doctor },
- { tyrion lannister },
- { yngvi }
OPEN LOG: Establishing a Base in Kirkwall
WHO: Many People
WHAT: Cleaning up Kirkwall
WHEN: Cloudreach 1-21
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: This log post is for characters who go early to Kirkwall to assist in preparing it for the rest of those assigned there. We strongly encourage IC discussion of things left to character discretion—someone should definitely do a crystal post to discuss what to do with the personal belongings left behind in the Gallows or what new form the statues should take!
WHAT: Cleaning up Kirkwall
WHEN: Cloudreach 1-21
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: This log post is for characters who go early to Kirkwall to assist in preparing it for the rest of those assigned there. We strongly encourage IC discussion of things left to character discretion—someone should definitely do a crystal post to discuss what to do with the personal belongings left behind in the Gallows or what new form the statues should take!

The city's complicated past is not easy to forget, history having earmarked many corners of the stone city. A ship approaching the harbor spots the city's namesake: an imposing black wall. It is visible for miles, and carved into the cliff side are a pantheon of vile guardians representing the Old Gods. Over the years, the Chantry has effaced many of these profane sentinels, but it will take many more years to erase them all.
Also carved into the cliff is a channel that permits ships into the city's interior. Flanking the channel are two massive bronze statues—the Twins of Kirkwall. The statues have a practical use. Kirkwall sits next to the narrowest point of the Waking Sea, and a massive chain net can be erected between the statues and the lighthouse, closing off the only narrow navigable lane. This stranglehold on sea traffic is jealously guarded by the ever-changing rulers of the city as the net trolls taxes, tolls, and extortions in from the sea.
—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi
Establishing a presence in Kirkwall is a delicate matter. First, there's Provisional Viscount Bran Cavin—a man so used to batting back friendly offers of entirely harmless occupation of the battered city-state that his first three responses to the Inquisition's leadership appeared to be slightly personalized form letters. Proving that the Inquisition is here to work and not to conquer will be a process. The first step in that process is the second reason the move is delicate: the only building the Provisional Viscount is willing to part with is the Gallows, left quarantined and unoccupied since Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard's famous crystallization into red lyrium in the courtyard. The Gallows have since overgrown with red lyrium. If anyone is going to live and work there, there's a lot of work to do.
↠ Cloudreach 1-3: The Journey There
↠ Cloudreach 3-4: Arrival
↠ Cloudreach 4-14: Haunted
↠ Cloudreach 14-21: Spring Cleaning
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Huh. It's been more than a year, and he's still alive. This must be a record.
"I mean, yeah, in theory we're allowed to rest. In practice, it's a little more difficult." Everyone has to pull their weight, and it's the same amount of weight all around, from top to bottom, as far as he can tell. "And then there's a little extra on us with rifts involved."
No, she doesn't want to get lumped in with Rifters, but she does have a pain shard in her hand whether she likes it or not. So 'us' it is.
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"Pass out in the middle of fighting something and I won't be strong enough to drag you to safety, what will I say to your loved ones? How will I face them again in public?" With as little jostling as possible, she starts to clean off her rapiers of whatever viscera demons and shades leave behind. "When it comes to rifts, yes, we seal those but the dungeons...I saw the dungeons in Dairsmuid. You'll want to be able to stand up and breathe before you go to the dungeons here."
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(Or people are too scared of what Araceli might do or what Korrin might do or what both of them might do so that's probably why she only got inspected at the Winter Palace.)
Nodding in agreement with him, she sheathes one cleaned rapier, moving to the other. "I'll be dealing with paperwork for who knows how long, if they know what's good for them they won't need to be bribed." Church behold that smile, it's so innocent and sweet. Like a really adorable shark before it comes and chomps someone in half.
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Please imagine Church in a corset now. You're welcome.
"You know how hot it is for you to say that while you're cleaning a weapon? From one friend to another. That's hot. In a scary way."
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In return, please imagine the amount of cleavage Araceli gets in a corset. It's a deadly weapon.
"Should Korrin be worried?" Araceli's only teasing. And it's a suggestive gesture, she just likes to pretend she's not always aware of more or less everything that she's doing all the time. "Plenty of things come from being the daughter of a pirate and a whore after all."
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He can laugh about it now, but that shirt hurt. And burned. And there was a very long moment between when his shield fluttered, stuttered like a skipping heartbeat and the projectile came hurtling through where he thought this is it. Another death on the counter, but if he dies here, he has no idea what happens. Does his spirit go back home? Does it linger here? Is he just...dead? He can't answer that for himself or for Christine.
Thank god for Araceli being distracting as fuck. "After everything I heard about that fun, I'm glad nobody asked me to go. Bad enough I got all dressed up when those dignitaries came and we had that soiree. I mean, I looked good and all, but can you imagine me in a palace ballroom on Orlesian home turf? Is there any way that would've ended without a straight up beheading?" Okay, he probably wouldn't have been that bad, but he was kind of bad at the Skyhold ball. Really best not to have a mouthy Rifter running around Empress Celene, etc.
"If only Korrin has reason to be worried. Thankfully for all of us, you're just the hot friend. Like, honestly, would if I could, but alas, we're promised to different people. And, occasionally, genitalia."
no subject
She knows what it's like in a way, having something wrong in you, not knowing if you'll be okay, all the people who say it'll be fine when they don't actually know.
"Some of the people there were fascinated with rifters." She chooses the words carefully, glancing up and down the hall to see if anyone's around but it's just them so she can say what she wants to say without having to worry too much, trusting that Church isn't going to go announcing what's probably already known at this point. "Enough that you know the want to put you on a shelf or lock you away in a room so they can look at you. The 'oh how exotic you are, my dear' sort of thing. But they like knowing things about rifts. Where some of us come from. What we've done. The more daring the better if it's the right sort of person. People were boasting if they got to hear a song from beyond the rifts first, that sort of thing."
Sheathing her blades, she works silkdart out from where it's tucked up her sleeve because Orlais took but it also gave so it's a nice fancy dagger Araceli's finally getting to put to use in Kirkwall now. "And you're too old. Any men are only ever the same age as me. Older women? A lot of fun but you must know yourself that the aches and pains and complaints set in far sooner in men."
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"I like the idea of people being fascinated with us and our cultures than, y'know, torches and pitchforks. I gotta give the Inquisitioners that much, even the ones that didn't like us were still on our side so long as we didn't end up being...demons." Isn't that right, Cassandra? "I'm happy to tell as many stories as I can if it means people staring at me with stars in their eyes instead of disgust."
Her commentary about men, though, has him mock offended, sitting up a little straighter. "Wow, I'm not old! I'm not old at all. You're like, what, 20-something? I'm...uh. Hm. I uh...huh." He has to think about it, which is bad. Like...there's the sort of age he's pretty sure is fake, and there's...the actual number of years he himself has been alive, and he has no idea what that number is. "Y'know what, forget it, I'm just not old. I'm a healthy young man in his prime, ain't no aches or pains for me other than shardy mcpainfulhand."
Don't make him flex. Don't--oh god, he's flexing, stop it.
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Sometimes stars in their eyes becomes something more dangerous, but Araceli doesn't-- well she does know how to word it. She just doesn't know if she wants to say it to Church. There are things some people understand and things some people try to but won't quite get and she doesn't know. Perhaps she doesn't want to be hurt or to say something out of turn. "Just. Be careful? There are people that collect butterflies and put pins through them, keeping them behind glass. Or other people that want someone kept away from the rest of the world just for them, a private treasure they can pore over or where the price of admission for others to stare at is the cost of their company." Her eyes don't quite meet his, voice tight but steady. Still steady.
"I'll be twenty-two soon." Congratulations Church you are the second person that isn't Korrin that she's told her actual age to. Look at this tiny youth. Also everyone over their mid-twenties automatically falls into the positively ancient to her eyes bracket, even if they only look that way so there's that. "Lying about it already? Tut tut, it's only rude to ask it of a lady--"
Whatever other smart reply she had is lost when she tries to stifle the laugh. For about three seconds. Then it explodes out of her.
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He understands a little better than she thinks, but he'd still take that over pitchforks. At least he'd be alive and might be able to find a way out rather than, y'know, dead. Maybe he'll try to explain it to her someday. Might even go better than when he explained it to Christine.
So making her laugh instead is a much better use of time, something to distract from the darkness and dankness of the dungeon, the pain and weariness. Her laugh is infectious, and he has to laugh at himself along with her. And it feels so good. Slouches forward, almost doubled over for it just because it echoes and rolls around the air and sounds great, the two of them laughing it up in a place of despair.