faderift | Listen. This is the noise of myth.

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Listen. This is the noise of myth.

WHO: Morrigan, Korrin, Ellana, Thranduil, Alistair, The Medicine Seller, Kit
WHAT: Morrigan takes a bunch of the Inquisition folks deep into the Korcari Wilds in search of Flemeth since she still hasn't shown herself which is a record for Flemeth not showing herself when times of change and crisis are upon us in the Dragon Age
WHEN: Early August
WHERE: Korcari Wilds
NOTES: ooc sign-up post and ic chat post about it; will update with any warnings but given Flemeth please assume all the standard canonical warnings for Flemeth and Chasind related content. As much Korcari Wilds info as you might need can all be found here

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[Leaving Kirkwall for a time seems to do Korrin some good; the further they travel, the more she's able to shed that moody antisocial aura that's been clinging to her in recent times. It's not entirely shed, but she's better able to focus and coordinate with the group. What they're doing will need her sharp, she's certain of that.

Still, there are quiet moments that don't demand her undivided attention. After camp is set up yet again, Korrin plops down by the fire she just created (literally summoning flames for the tinder, she needs to feel warm and dry as soon as possible). This is normally where she would pass around the drinks and demand a story or tell one, but the moment has her turning a tiny, rough dragon scrimshaw over and over in her hand, staring into the flames with a melancholy she's careful to shed whenever spoken to.]

Edited 2017-08-01 21:39 (UTC)

Kit is careful not to let on just how the fire that blooms into existence on the bits of tinder spooks him, lest he inadvertently insult the woman casting the spell. Once the fire crackles and burns evenly across the logs that feed it, he comes over to seat himself on a stretch of canvas he drops down near(ish)by.

He notes the little dragon scrimshaw in her hands but doesn't comment on it, at least not yet. Instead he fishes out some paper and smoking herbs and rolls himself a cigarette, then leans as close to the fire as he dares to light it.

"Quite the trip so far, huh?"

The sudden voice snaps her out of her thoughts and Korrin straightens abruptly. She doesn't move away, though, the scent of cigarette smoke not bothering her in the least. Her lips curve in a small smile and she nods, rubbing at the back of her neck with her free hand.

"Yeah, but it's good to be out of Kirkwall for a while. Staying too long in one place gets me stir-crazy. On the road, on a job, everything's much easier to handle.

Think we'll actually find the legendary Flemeth?" Yeah, she was said to have been killed, but so what? Who knows what sort of strange powers the witch had that kept her alive or even brought her back? Morrigan must have reasons to think as she does, so Korrin will go with it.

"No idea," Kit says. A pause. Then, "We, uh, don't get that many stories about Flemeth down in the Deep Roads. I've heard tell of a few of them since I've been on the surface. She's some apostate mage?"

An incredibly powerful, he assumes, given her history with Morrigan. Given what little he knows of the Inquisition's mysterious arcane advisor, he can only speculate what sort of person Flemeth must be to put her so on edge.

"If you want a better-told, more accurate version, you'll want to talk to Morrigan. What I know is that she's a shapeshifter, the Witch of the Wilds, and supposedly been around since the Towers Age.

Since then, she has a habit of inserting herself into history in times of change or crisis, like when saved the Hero of Ferelden's ass at Ostagar, along with Alistair. And there was that she saved Champion of Kirkwall when her family was fleeing the darkspawn horde near Lothering. Varric's book Tale of the Champion covers that part. So, it's pretty odd that she hasn't surfaced at all in light of the Breach and everything that's happened after. She's around to help Maric Theirin take the Fereldan throne, but not shown herself when some magister asshole punches a hole in the Veil? I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, to be honest."

Kit glances skyward towards the mended breach; the sight of it would be enough to unsettle anyone, but especially a dwarf. "Is she some sort of abomination?" he wonders, doing what he can to keep his voice quiet.

"Supposedly. I don't know how true that is, or if it's just another thing tacked on to the long list of incredible shit attributed to her. Whatever the truth is, she knows magic far beyond the typical mage. Maybe it's the spirit of whatever in her, or maybe she already knew it before. I have no clue, and it's not like she'd have any reason to tell us."

Korrin shrugs, naturally curious but she's not willing to torture herself for questions that are unlikely to ever receive answers. She takes a sip from her flask, then offers it. "It's just ale, nothing special."

From Korrin's tone he gets the impression that, maybe, this is a subject better left alone, and so he's glad to follow her lead.

He's also glad to accept the flask of ale, flashing her a quick grin as he does so. He takes a quick gulp from it, then caps it and hands it back. "Little luxuries like that become special once you're out on the road for a while, don't you think?" he asks, then settles back onto his stretch of canvas. He props his booted feet up a bit closer to the fire to warm them up. He discreetly glances at her horns, but figures outright asking is just rude.

Taking it back, she nods and flashes a lopsided smile. "Damn right. You know it's not going to last, so you savor it while you can. I doubt there's a bar in the middle of the Wilds." She moves to stand but only to nudge her pack back a little so she can lean against it. The glance is noted, and her typical blunt manner resurfaces. "Go ahead, say what's on your mind. As long as you're not calling me 'ox', I can deal with it."

He winces at her tone; he hadn't meant to offend, but intent doesn't matter much after the offense has happened. He holds up a hand almost apologetically. "Just dumb curiosity; were you born in Par Vollen, or somewhere else?"

Korrin looks surprised for a moment, then shakes her head. She likes to get to the point, but there's no hostility from her, not here and now. "You didn't offend. You think I don't get questions all the time? It happens, people are curious.

And nah, I've never even seen Par Vollen. I'm a Free Marcher...born and sometimes raised. The rest was all over, mostly in the north."

"I'm a Free Marcher... born and sometimes raised."

That brings another warm grin to Kit's face, and he chuckles quietly. "I get that," he replies, and something in his tone suggests that yes, he definitely does know a thing or two about having to raise oneself. The casteless brand is still present on his face, although mostly covered up by the ritualistic tattoos of the Legion.

"We went all over, too--but our 'all over' was all underground," he says. He shifts to take another drag off his cigarette and breathe the smoke off to one side, letting the wind carry it away from the campfire.

"I traveled with my parents and their merc company to wherever they had the next job. They were the ones from Par Vollen, but they hated that life so much they imposed as few rules on me as possible. I'm not complaining, but it did feel sometimes like I was raising them instead."

Korrin smirks and shakes her head, unable to blame her parents for that. At least they'd gotten away from the Qun and had her, gave her a live that would have been impossible in their homeland. She'll always be grateful for that.

"Underground where? Anyplace interesting? Orzammar doesn't count." She huffs, impressed with the city's architecture and that's about it. The caste system can go rot.

"Orzammar doesn't count."

"All those deep lords so chock full of sod that's all that ever comes out of their mouths anyway." He smiles around his cigarette, but it's a bitter expression, one that speaks of a great deal of familiarity with life in Orzammar. He takes the cigarette and flicks the ash away, growing quiet for a moment.

"Aeducan Thaig, Caridin's Cross, Bownammar in the Dead Trenches," he names them off idly. "Anywhere the darkspawn were, that's where we went." He looks at the burning ember on the end of the cigarette. "Never seemed to make a dent in their numbers, though they sure made a dent in ours."

"The Dead Trenches? Wow, that's deep in enemy territory. Even my company never ventured that far." Mostly because they never had to; they were to guard an expedition, not saddled with an eternal calling to hunt darkspawn. She nods knowingly at that last part, taking another sip from her flask. "I'd like to think there's a more effective way to fight them other kill them off as we find them, but damned if I know what it is. But whatever. You and your group, you're twice the dwarves those assholes in the Diamond Quarter could ever hope to be. Who the hell cares whose great-great-great whatever did what when? It's now that counts, always does."

Maybe it's easier said from someone who has no known ancestors to burden her beyond parents, but Korrin knows how she feels. The past will never be as important.

Orzammar has been throwing the Legion into the Dead Trenches for generations, trying to reclaim Bownammar, but every success has been swiftly followed on its heels by another failure. However many times they seem to retake it, the darkspawn are always quick to claw it back out of their grasp again. The lives lost in pursuit of a lost cause never seem to matter to the sods in the Diamond Quarter.

"You and your group, you're twice the dwarves those assholes in the Diamond Quarter could ever hope to be."

Kit glances at Korrin, his expression hard to read. When he smiles, it's a small expression, but it seems as though he's truly touched by that sentiment. "Thanks for saying that."

Korrin just shrugs, flashing a small smile. "It's just the truth. Revering the past to the point of forgetting to live in the present has never done anyone any favors. The Valo-Kas teamed up with the Legion before, and they always showed a lot of guts. I might have even tried to join them at one point, though...I wasn't anywhere near sober at the time, some weird dwarven brew they passed around that I'd never tried before. Won't make that mistake again. I swear I had a hangover for a week straight. And the taste...."

She grimaces at that. Dwarves can be awesome...just not that travesty they called hooch.

That makes him laugh. "Yeah, that lichen ale tastes about like you'd expect, but it'll knock you on your ass."

He considers her other words curiously, shifting to give her another look. "You really wanted to join up with the Legion?" Perhaps it was just an impulsive thought; still, it's intrigued him.

"I was so beyond drunk it's not even funny. That's not even something I remember; they had to tell me about it, afterward." She snorts a little, sure they're still amused at getting one over a qunari like that. Well, assuming they're still alive. "It was probably said because I came to admire them. They were badass and dedicated as well; a lot of heart, all of them. Living underground would never have suited me, but that sense of purpose, how that unifies everyone? I get it, maybe now more than ever with the Inquisition."

"...but that sense of purpose, how that unifies everyone? I get it, maybe now more than ever with the Inquisition."

It's strange how a person can be right and wrong at the same time. Kit grows rather quiet suddenly, his expression implacable, distant. In the silence, he considers the end of his cigarette, then takes one more drag from it before tossing the remnants into the fire. Breathing out the smoke, he watches the whorls float away.

"Yeah," he says, and it sounds kind of like he actually disagrees, but lacks either the energy or the heart to fully get into the specifics of why.

He starts to heave himself up to his feet. "I should probably turn in," he says, and the quick smile he gives Korrin is friendly; he may not want to share his thoughts on this particular issue, but he still quite likes her company. "Long day on the road again tomorrow."

Korrin instantly raises an eyebrow, aware that something she said didn't sit well with Kit even as she doesn't know why. Direct as she is, the Vashoth woman rarely uses such mannerisms to wound others and that wasn't her intention now. She doesn't stop him from getting up to leave, but can't help but speak up regardless. It would bother her too much to leave it without acknowledgement. "You don't have to tell me how I fucked up if you don't want to, but...sorry, for whatever it's worth." After that, she leans back and turns her attention to the dragon scrimshaw again.

Immediately chagrined, Kit grimaces and chafes a hand against the stubble growing in along his jawline. He shakes his head. "You didn't," he insists, forcing a smile. "It's just--dwarf shit. Orzammar shit. It's a lot to get into. That's all."

"And you barely know me yet. Fair enough." Korrin won't force her way into such things, just leaves the door open a crack for the possibility of something later. But there's a mission to focus on now, and resting up for it. "...I should try crashing, too, before it's my turn on watch." She stands and stretches, pocketing her small token. That would be a lot to get into, as well, and part of her is grateful he hasn't asked yet.

She doesn't push, and he appreciates it. Probably more than he can demonstrate at present. He also doesn't miss the token she toys with idly, and though his curiosity is piqued, he bites it back. If he's not going to be forthcoming yet, then he doesn't deserve to pry into her business, either.

"Catch you in the morning then," he tells her, smiles one more time, then turns to find his own pallet elsewhere within the campsite.

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Listen. This is the noise of myth.

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