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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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"Together but alone."

River's brow furrowed faintly, but she didn't request clarification. "Never so lost as in a crowd. So much noise you can't help but see the quiet ones," she murmured, though mostly to herself before shaking her head.

"Simon. Simon came for me, came with me, but he has to heal. Help. I don't like the way they sound when they're dying," she added softly, after a moment.

"He's dying?" she said instantly, misunderstanding River's strange, sing-song speech. The concern was immediate. River was not well. If her care giver was dying--

But then it finally seemed to click in, and the concern was placed by a frown. "You mean he is the healer," she murmured, more to herself than to River. Came for her, came with her, chains--

"Did he rescue you?"

She nodded quietly, gaze falling to the grass nearby, watching it flutter in the sharp breeze, stirring the edge of her dress. He'd found her, when she'd been so certain no one ever would, that she was beyond saving.

She hadn't been entirely wrong. Her stomach gives an uncomfortable lurch at the thought.

"Found the pieces the snakes didn't swallow. He's trying to put them together again into a girl, but...it's hard for him."

Mages. She had no idea what the snakes were, but the only kind of power that would tear apart an innocent girl and turn her into this? Mages. An intense kind of empathy welled up - a vicious empathy, a vengeful one. She reached out and grasped River's hand, squeezing it.

"Then I am sure he is the best of men," She said with complete conviction. "But then it is even more imperative that you do not endanger yourself, yes? We would not want you to have to visit him in the healer's tents."

"We're always in danger," she replied simply, though her eyes flickered back up to the templar. In danger of that exact frame of mind, or those who fit it. The conflicting roil of emotions swept through her like a wave of nausea, and she closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

"Worse things than falling."

There were many, many, worse things than falling - and the steel in Nerva's blood was proof. The result of a thousand wounds, and only few of them physical. Piling up until her heart was made of more scar tissue than blood.

Rage was easy, when you could see yourself in every shadowed look.

"Yes." It was true. They were always in danger, and there were worse things. "But that is why we protect ourselves, from what we can. Why --" what was his name again? "-- why Simon protected you, when you could not."

River stared back at her, glassy-eyed.

"You protect people from monsters."

Her voice was hollow around the shape of the word. Monster. That's what they are, what she is, a threat to the common people. Something to be feared or studied or locked away or put down. But she's not wrong. She's felt their touch on the inside of her head and knows them for what they are.

Nerva was taken aback, for a second, before she realised what she was wearing. She glanced down at the armour, and then back up at River, nodding.

"Yes. Sometimes. And I protect people from themselves - from the magic, and their weakness, and the demons that might pray on it. If I do my job correctly, then I never have to protect anyone from a monster at all."

"But if the monsters became real, you'd stop them. You'd protect the others."

That's almost a relief. She wasn't a danger to those closest if there was someone in the way, someone who wouldn't pity a mage because they happened to look like a delicate young girl. Simon thought templars should be feared, avoided.

River knew better now.

"They're hard to see until they have hold," she pressed on, licking at her chapped lips briefly. "You don't get away. Cages open and feet feel earth moving under them, but they're there. If you turn back to look."

"Yes." She answers, though the phrase 'You'd protect the others' draws a slight wariness into her voice. River continues, and it's impossible to make sense of the words, leaving her at an utter loss. But cages. Cages, she catches. Cages, and a desperate need to escape.

Her brain manages to twist the words into something that makes the most sense to Nerva, even if it isn't what's meant, and she nods again. She squeezed River's hands, still holding them.

"I protect them from themselves, and I protect everyone else if they are overwhelmed and the demons take them. And I will protect you, River, you have my word."

"Too cold in the mountain for snakes," she murmurs, her eyes lowering thoughtfully. "Some came south, but they don't bite. Don't carry poison. They're safe until you make them not be."

The woman's hands are rough, but they're firm. She understands, even if the circumstances are different. She believes she'll try to do good, but the worst can often come from the most well-meaning.

"... The snakes," She finally says, as a piece falls into place. "River. The snakes, are they from Tevinter? Were you - were you held there?"

That vicious empathy vibrates within her, but her hands somehow don't tremble, her voice doesn't waver. The 8 year old girl that wants to reach out and hug River fiercely is long, long gone, and the woman that remains has her shield and sword, instead. But some wounds never heal.

It's then she goes quiet, still. But the haunted look in her eyes says enough. Tevinter. She'd once thought it exciting, exotic. Now it holds nothing but crumbling black statues and bad memories in her mind. And everywhere those banners, the serpent against a white banner.

"Can't...get the poison out. Simon tries, but..." She swallows thickly. "Things aren't right anymore. He shouldn't have to."

"I'm sorry," Nerva says, and there's a wealth of honest feeling there, as she lets go of one of River's hands, only to reach out and brush the hair from the girl's eyes.

"I will not ask you to remember more. I - I understand, better than you know. We do not have to speak of it again."

There was a pause, for a moment, as her hand fell away.

"Will you let me meet Simon? I am not sure... I am not sure that I could help, but I would like to offer it, if it turns out to be useful in any capacity."

River's eyes close for a moment. Rage seethes around this woman, would take her if it knew how, but she's too full of things that won't let them in. Wrong things, old things. She's human, for good or ill.

She's not one they need fear, at any rate.

Quietly the girl nods, lifting a hand and pointing towards the healer's tents. He's there, almost without fail, when he is out looking for her after she's crept away somewhere. Always where he can do the most good.

They've found enough people in Skyhold who pitied River more than feared her, enough for Simon to no longer immediately give in to worried fear when he noticed River was out of his sight. They could be trusted to look after her while he worked...and in the moment he worked fervently. He had an idea that might help her. It involved getting his fingers stained with herbs, working on the right mix that might, at least temporarily, quiet the voices in her head and give her some measure of peace.

Simon was bent low over his work in his tent, one flap left open for those in need. Just because Simon was working for his sister's benefit did not mean he would shirk his duty to the Inquisition. It made him easy to find.

She doesn't let go of River's other hand as she nods - the protective rage not subsided enough to allow the loss of contact - and walks with her back to the tents.

It isn't hard to find him - most of the other healers are already in the mire, she already knows Bruce, and the other two around are women. So she approached Simon with an air of confidence, her hand still clasped around his sister's.

Her templar armour on full display.

"You are Simon, are you not?"

It doesn't look good, from the outside, but River seems calm enough. A little worried, perhaps, but she's not fighting the hold on her hand. Maybe that will be enough to keep Simon from fearing the worst straight away.

Maybe.

Her armor gave her approach away before she addressed him, but Simon's eyes were still on his work until the last possible moment. He was working with a small scale, watching the balance carefully until he heard his name.

"Yes, what can I--" Simon looked up dutifully and then froze in a faintly telling way. His eyes widened slightly at the flaming sword engraved on her breastplate, plus the fact that she had a very firm grip on his little sister's hand...

It was clear that he did not like what he saw, though he did not openly panic.

"What happened?" he asked, rising to his feet and crossing the small distance. Not 'what did she do', so he didn't fear the worst. Though he certainly feared close enough.

She would have found the freezing odd, maybe, if she wasn't very aware of just how imposing she could be, in her armour. And showing up at the healers tents with his charge in tow - well, of course he would worry. So she quickly set to reassure him with a shake of her head.

"Nothing. Neither of us are harmed. I have come to--" And there she faltered, the frown pulling on her face. River was one thing. She could admit common cause and common pain to her, but Simon was another creature all together. So, she continued, as detached as possible.

"I have come to offer my help, in whatever way it may be taken. River tells me that you have been caring for her."

"She was worried I'd fall," River murmured, attention now following a raven that was making its way to the tallest tower of the keep. Her teeth raked against her lower lip, fingers still held snugly in the templar's grip.

Her toes dug idly into the soft earth beneath them.

Another offer of help, then...though the very fact that she was a templar did not put Simon at ease as Adelaide's had. Simon didn't have a poor opinion of templars, exactly, but he knew that if any decent one knew the exact nature of River's problem their solution would at best involve a rite of tranquility. At least, that's what his experience told him.

Still, the offer seemed to soothe away the initial worry he had, and the mage nodded, his hands dropping to his sides. He watched his sister for a moment, brow furrowing as he tried to guess if the word 'fall' meant something more...it didn't seem that way.

"You were climbing again," he said, letting out a soft breath. Simon didn't mean it to be accusing, just that he knew of his sister's at times nerve-wracking fondness for high places. "And...barefoot too, where did the boots I got for you--"

The quartermaster was going to strangle him if he showed up asking for another pair. But Simon was getting distracted. He shook his head and reached up to rub away the line in his brow, turning his focus back on the hopefully still wanting to be helpful templar before him.

"Thank you," he said. "I have...though we wouldn't want to trouble anyone..."

"She said she wouldn't be able to hear the stone sing without them," Nerva replied. "I attempted to explain that the stone only speaks to dwarves. She will need new shoes."

The practicalities were easier to speak of than anything else - especially since Nerva had envisioned someone much older than Simon was. River had never said 'brother', and whenever she thought of caregivers - well. That was beside the point. It was distracting, and she didn't need distractions, so instead she frowned.

"It will be more trouble if you are the only one looking out for her," She said, quite bluntly. "You have your own duties. I am happy to accompany River, if you are not available."

"Stone here is different. They saw when it pulled apart, two sides of the tapestry..."

Shoes. Such a preoccupation with them. River's nose wrinkles slightly, but it appears she's outnumbered. For the moment. Climbing would be more difficult when she couldn't feel her footing, but she could stay on the ground for now.

Her eyes flicker briefly between Nerva and Simon now, a faint furrow in her brow. The templar isn't going to hurt them. She's here to help. That's something, isn't it?

Simon thinned his lips at his sister, silently begging her not to say anything both crazy and telling in front of the templar. He didn't know what they saw being pulled apart exactly, but the tapestry sounded a lot like it could be the veil and that was not what they needed to be talking about right now...

"I'm not the only one who looks out for her," he protested, though it was feeble. River was far better at making allies than he was (and he wasn't the one talking in riddles), but even then Simon only knew of a couple of folk in Skyhold he'd trust his sister to be alone with. So far, a templar was not someone he'd count among them...Nerva did not mean harm now, but that could change all too easily.

All the same, openly telling her 'no' might make things even worse just by being suspicious. His hands fidgeted together, thumbs pressing into his palms before he held out an open hand to take his sister back, the pads of his fingers marked a dark green from his work.

"...I only ask, when you are watching her, to come and get me should anything happen."

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