faderift | [OPEN]

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WHO: Nerva Lecuyer and literally anyone who wants in on the fun
WHAT: A Templar escorting two Tranquil arrives at Skyhold
WHEN: From nowish and open to people as they come back from the Mire
WHERE: The courtyard
NOTES: lots of hatred

It was incredibly cold, and getting colder, but the deep fur cloak around her shoulders insulated her armour and kept most of the wind off, so it was bearable. Her charges, however - two Tranquil that she had rescued as she fled from the Templars - were difficult. They would not mind the cold even if it was killing them, so she had to be extra vigilant in checking them over for frostbite every night that they made camp. When they finally made it to Skyhold, her soul was as exhausted as her body, and she only made a very cursory introduction before pleading for a place to lay her head, and for protection for the Tranquil. Once she had both, she slept for a long time.

The next morning was bright and clear, and the air felt warmer in the castle despite the early winter that stormed in the mountains around them. She was at a loss, for a few minutes, as to what she should be doing - the entire Inquistion unfamiliar and disconcerting. So few templars, and so many mages, coming and going freely, with no regulation or safety structures in place...

She would take her concerns directly to the leaders of the Inquisition, once she better understood the situation. Until then, it was time to get her bearings.

Training in the courtyard made things easier - let her take her mind off of everything and focus only on shield and blade. She had to pause, however, as she found that her two charges were watching her, waiting for orders.

"The Inquisition is our Order now," she told them solemnly. "You do not report to me, but I am at your disposal if you are in need of any assistance." She knew that assistance would never be requested, but she would offer it again, when she saw them.

Later, she would spend a long time in the Chantry, trying to find some kind of guidance.

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Nerva turned to the voice, glancing down to see the dwarf. That, at least, explained why she did not know - and for good reason. Dwarves were free of the curse of magic.

"They are the Tranquil," She explained simply. "Former mages who have forsaken nearly everything, for protection and peace. There is nothing wrong with them - they are what they are."

What she new of mages, she knew only the basics. The idea of Tranquil didn't even register. She also didn't seem convinced by the basic explanation. "You say former mages--they give up their magical ability? Is that even possible?"

She nodded solemnly.

"Yes, it is possible. They give up their entire connection to the Fade - their magic, their dreams - even their emotions. They become invisible to the demons that would otherwise haunt them. Unstable mages - those most at risk of possession - may have the Rite preformed upon them."

She looked over at them as they walked away to do their work.

"It is an incredible sacrifice, that they make for the good of everyone. It is something to be respected."

Rachette's nose wrinkles up. Mage business is complicated. "I'm not connected to the Fade, and I still have emotions. Why do they have to give that up and be...creepy like that?"

"I have heard a few different theories," Nerva said, though she shrugged helplessly. That she had no answer for.

"That dwarves are connected to the Fade, but that connection is closed... That the connection was severed so slowly and for so long that you kept most of your true selves. That the Rite of Tranquility itself is what has that effect on mages. I do not know. I am not a scholar, as much as I may wish it were so. But they are not - 'creepy'. If you find them unsettling, it is because they are more at peace than any other living creature could hope to be."

Rachette put her hands on her hips, considering the floundering explanations that just end in 'I don't know'. Maybe try not to argue semantics about how, if a dwarf's connection to the Fade is closed, then there obviously isn't a connection anymore. She has to remember that she's always going to be surrounded by people much, much smarter than her. Especially now.

"They were looking to you for orders. Are they servants now? For the Inquisition?"

"As much as you or I are servants for the Inquisition," She replied, bristling slightly. But it wasn't the dwarf's fault, really. So she let out her annoyance in a breath.

"They come to me for orders because their places are not yet finalized, or formalized, here. In the circle, they were scholars - researchers. But here they are given tasks like gardening. They do them without question, of course. But I would prefer to see something worthy of them."

Chette frowned. Harder. Somehow. She didn't know how connected this woman was with the Inquisition, so accusing her of being such a servant might not be wise. She hadn't done anything to rile Chette up, after all.

"They could still do research, so long as someone tells them what they're researching? They aren't mindless dolts," she mused aloud. "Just lacking wills of their own?"

Nerva nodded.

"Their minds are completely in tact, they simply feel no emotions. Many of them are brilliant, and because they are naturally distant from their work, they can research without bias. Far fewer mistakes, far more trustworthy results. There is no ego to their work, because they have none."

"So it isn't like they need orders. Or to be told to do anything. They aren't dolts. They just don't feel." Hold on, give her a minute. Most of what she knows of mages is about lyrium, given the Carta's lyrium smuggling and the like. "So then, it's not a bad thing. They live their lives in peace."

She doesn't smile. The expression can't even be called warm, exactly, but it relaxes into something less defensive, less on edge. It was rare, for someone to be willing to be understanding, about the Tranquil. She honestly appreciated it.

"Yes. A more perfect peace than the rest of us have ever known," she agreed. She sounded almost wistful about it, but perhaps that was an illusion. "But yet some would claim it is a worse fate than death, which I... have never really understood. To live in such peace, with such utility - it is an honour that I respect."

Rachette's a big fan of emotions, herself, but then again, she's never been without them. Maybe it is better. But then she wouldn't get to smile. (When's the last time she really smiled? Maybe looking at the--what had the qunari woman called them, constellations?) "It's only for mages, though, right? Because of their connections to the Fade. Don't more mages turn to doing that?"

"It is only for mages, yes. Specifically - to make them as invisible to demons as possible. The Tranquil here - yes, they volunteered. They were too susceptible, and rather than face certain possession and death, they chose peace. Some... For some, it is not a choice. If they are putting everyone around them in danger." It made her uncomfortable, that much was obvious, and she frowned, but continued on.

"Many mages let their fear rule them, and do not allow themselves to rationally think through the consequences of their choices. If they did, I believe we would have many more Tranquil than we do."

The discomfort should tell her to back away from the topic, but Rachette's curiosity normally gets the better of her. "Were those two with your forced into it?" If it was willing, then she has no problem with it; it is their choice, and one that sounds like it might be for the better. But forced to become like that? Sure, at that point, it wouldn't bother them, but...it should, shouldn't it?

Nerva shook her head. "No. Both of them chose Tranquility, thank the Maker. They went to the rite willingly, and with full acceptance."

That was one of the reasons she was still with them - she had been there, for their rites. She had been there ever since.

"...Still." Her eyes gazed over in the direction where the two had meandered. "It's a shame to lose so much useful skill. Can't get rid of magic completely, after all, despite the risk. Plenty of mages live full lives just fine, right? And the Inquisition could use all the power and help they can get."

Nerva's face twitched slightly.

"It is needed," she agreed, but almost with distaste. "But do not forget that it was magic that caused the breach. It is magic that fuels the war. It is needed, but it is a weapon. And with weapons come blood. Always."

"Well, without magic, there goes most of the lyrium trade!" That's a joke. See how she's grinning? Wait, was that not funny? "Magic can at least heal. Can't do that with a sword, or we'd all be using them. Can Tranquil people still fight? Could they be taught a bow or a sword?"

Nerva does not seem to even understand that it was a joke, let alone laugh at it. "I am sure the world would similarly be better off without Lyrium," she replied bluntly. She should know.

She frowned at the question. "Yes. But they would have no desire to do so - no need for vengeance, no need to break the peace. You could, of course, and they would not take offense, but similarly you would not be able to motivate them very well for war. It would be as everything else was - without passion. Wars fought with tranquil would be difficult, and pointless."

She wasn't a hundred percent sure that was true - the thought was a disturbing one. But she said it with conviction, regardless.

Conviction is, sometimes, good enough. That's how she brontoshits her way through life, after all. "You could order them to fight, but then what's the point in fighting for something you don't actually believe in?"

She thinks she understands. They're still unsettling to observe, though.

"Morale is important. They have no morale, they simply accept their fate as it was given. They make poor weapons. They are best as they are - caretakers, researchers. Peaceful children of the maker." She sounded a little whistful as she looked off in their direction, and then seemed to remember herself.

"Forgive me, I have not introduced myself. Nerva Lecuyer, formerly of the circle at Monte-de-glace. Now of the Inquisition."

Her nose wrinkles, just a little. "I wouldn't call them children, but I think I see your point."

Oh. Right. Introductions. She's always been bad at those. Nobody in Orzammar cared who she was, and she didn't really have a reason to introduce herself in the Carta to anyone they were robbing or extorting.

But it would be rude to not. "It's okay, I didn't ask. I'm Rachette. Also now of the here, basically."

"Everyone is a child of the Maker," She replied easily enough, though there was no stern tone to it - it was obviously just something that she said, because she had always said it, rather than a real admonishment.

"Well met, Rachette. It is good too see dwarves joining the cause." She said, as if she had volunteered completely out of faith and not out of desperation, and as if she hadn't just joined up herself.

Chette didn't say anything about the whole Maker thing. Live and let live, even if she didn't buy into it. (Or the Herald of Andraste. Fancy title, but she wasn't about to attribute anything about her to a mythical figure. At least the Paragons were real, documented people.)

"The cause," she started, "doesn't get me immediately killed or imprisoned, but it's true, there are never enough dwarves around. Too many still huddled in Orzammar, pretending what happens on the surface doesn't impact them below, I'm sure."

She frowns at that, and raises an eyebrow. In truth, she knew little of Orzammar at all, so the words confused her.

"Killed or imprisoned? Would you be so, otherwise?"

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