faderift | (closed) dh’èirich mi moch madainn cheòthar

In this short time, Saoirse has likely become a familiar sight to the Inquisition's medical support and staff. The mage has no healing talents of her own but she is very clearly here to bring some light to the children who are still healing within the Gallows whether it be mentally or physically. She sings, plays games and brings them little bobbles that the alienage has sent with their well wishes. It is not uncommon, in truth, for her to be here from sunup to sundown unless called upon elsewhere.

Today is a very similar day to the days before it. She brings breads, fruit, cheeses and jams with help from some of the kitchen staff to help make sure each child gets themselves something to eat. After all, it is getting colder now and so many of them still need to put on some decent weight before they could leave. If they could leave, of course. She certainly worried for the future of some more than others, how this would effect them and the long-lasting worries it might leave.

Speaking of leaving... her eyes cannot help darting to one figure that stood out among all the children and she cannot help but frown. They had only met a few times but the woman seemed so frail and thin since they had last met on that road in Hightown. Although Saoirse is not familiar with the details, it does not stop her from wandering over with a small smile and a offer of some of food that they had been passing out to hungry children who were starting to get their strength back.

"Madainn mhath," she says kindly. "Good morning, that is. Would you like to join us for breakfast?"

The last time they spoke, Sina had alerted Saoirse of the children they'd found in a warehouse, and had been too upset to say much else. The children, through various avenues, are being cared for, their families sought out; but Sina's role ended the night they found them, since, perhaps as a result of their contact, she took sick.
She's been burning with fever for several days, lying pale and limp, a rasp in her breath and a cough that blossoms every time she wakes up. It's not very often of late, but her eyelids do lift hazily when Saoirse greets her, and she smiles faintly, looking a little confused. Food? Maybe not.

As Sina opens her eyes, Saoirse offers a tired smile and gently sets the tray atop one of the nearby side tables. "Perhaps later then?" She says, stepping away to bring a chair closer to the other woman's bed.

It was at times like these that she felt at a loss. She grips at her robes, squeezing fabric and trying to settle her heart drumming in her chest.

"I am sorry that I have not been able to see you sooner," she says with a sad tone. "You cannot imagine how thankful I am to you and the others, what you did for the little ones."

Slowly taking in what's around her, Sina blinks sleepily, struggling for consciousness. She at least recognizes Saoirse, and knits her brow in weary apology as she rests her head back again with a sigh. "Are they all right?" she asks, her voice gravelly.

"They are doing better and better every day."

It is said with a warmth that was utterly absence from her voice that day in Hightown. Carefully, and very gently, she reaches out to rest a hand atop the other woman's own and gives it a squeeze. She will not cry, but it is hard to hide her emotions and how very thankful this was.

"We are still working on finding their families," she explains. "But everyday more are able to return home and do so with a smile on their face."

Sina smiles, a genuine expression even if her eyes are glassy and tired. She squeezes faintly back. "Good," she whispers, "let me know if I can help." It's not an entirely lucid offer, but it's safe to say she means it either way.

"Yes... yes, of course." She whispers, voice partly failing as she tries not to let herself become upset like on that day in Hightown. Instead, she lifts her free hand to her face and tiredly rubs her eyes carefully.

"Shall I sing for you? Perhaps it'll help you relax a little."

When Saoirse falters, Sina looks concerned, but barely has the energy to do much about it. Instead, at the other's question, she nods. She's always liked listening to Saoirse's voice, whether singing to children in the alienage or to the other patients in the infirmary while Sina was helping with herbal remedies. It's a good, calming sound.

Although she has been spending more and more time in the Gallows, it is rare to catch her actually out and about away from where medical has set up. Usually, it is only when she is coming in for the day or leaving to return home. It is still hard, after all, to consider sleeping inside these walls. It was a river she had yet to cross, or even consider and one she feels better simply ignoring for now.

Of course, somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered just how much longer she could ignore it for before the whole of her feelings devoured her.

That is why Saoirse is grateful when a vaguely familiar face appears out of the corner of her eyes. It takes a moment to remember just where she last saw him but that day in Hightowan, bruised and on the verge of giving up comes back with a jolt. She approaches, smiling and announcing herself with a small cough.

"Myr... was it not?" She asks before continuing: "Ah... my name is Saoirse. We met once before in Hightown."

As Inessa's planned trip to the Blackmarsh nears, Myr's found himself engaged in a totally novel activity--tying up loose ends that can't be left unattended for the weeks he'll be away. Today, that means trekking through the whole of the Gallows to renew his marker glyphs so they won't wink out while he's across the sea in Ferelden; tomorrow, there will be a dozen other little tasks to fill up his time and crowd out worries about the parts of the world he's powerless to fix.

But there's something joyless in packing his days so full of make-work he doesn't have time to think; there's a looming feeling that it will all come crashing down sooner or later-- So when he hears a half-familiar voice that puts a lie to one of his worries (she'd gone missing with all the others, kidnapped or killed in the line of duty), he's quick to turn away from the glyph he's bent over and greet its owner with unfeigned relief. "Saoirse! You're back with us again." You're all right, his tone says, even though he knows those exact words can't be quite right.

"How are you? Is this permanent?"

He can't think of any more delicate way to ask whether she's ended the mission she'd been about last they met.

She laughs, a joyful sound and utterly different from the tone Saoirse first greeted him with all that time ago.

"For now this is my permanent and only focus. I've taken it upon myself to find the families of the children that were found and, in the meantime, make sure they are as comfortable as they can be here."

Which, at times, could be hard as some were so small and so scared. "How have you been? It hasn't been long but it feels like our meeting was ages ago!"

It's good to hear her laugh that way--good to hear, too, that she's safely back with the Inquisition--and Myr's smile is the brighter for it. "I'm glad to hear it--all of it. Thank you for looking after them." Fervent, heartfelt words--finding those families was something he couldn't begin to do, though he's been by to check on the children now and again. Even if the memory of how they'd found them still clings, still lurks in the back of his mind--

He shakes his head once, chasing the shadows from it. "Busy," he replies, with a rueful kind of cheer. "Though it's not much of a change from home and certainly interesting work. And it does feel like it's been forever--so much has happened since then, it's hard to believe.

"Were you headed somewhere--and would you mind company? I need a break from all this." He gestures back toward the glyph where it gleams and chimes against the wall.

"And thank you for all that you did," she says with a brief shake to her voice. "I cannot tell you how much it means that they are safe and sound, growing better everyday."

With a deep breath, Saoirse chuckles and folds her hands together. She cannot allow herself to get upset once more as far too many nights have been spent upset already. Instead, she listens and shoots his work a careful look before making a noise of approval.

"Well... I was stretching my legs and taking in the old sights, as it were." She explains with a sigh. "I lived in the Gallows for quite some time when it was still a Circle but I have not spent much time here since we arrived here from Skyhold. I thought I might see if there is anything from the old days still around. If you're interested, company would be rather lovely."

Edited 2017-11-01 23:02 (UTC)

"You lived here?" There's a note of surprise--of dismay--in his voice. "I'm--Maker, I'm sorry." He wishes he had other words, but what other words would do? They'd only heard of what had happened in Hasmal; there was nothing any of them could have done, whatever they might have wished.

But perhaps dwelling on it isn't what she wants--not if she's here, if she's willing to look around. Going back into the throat of an old fear to put it to rest is something he can understand; he can also understand not wanting to do it alone. "I'd be glad to accompany you. And hear a little more of what the place looks like, if you're minded to share."

He doesn't expect it to be lovely; everything he's heard thus far paints it as joyless. There's always something to be had in hearing a different view of things, though.

"Shall we?"

With her near permanent status helping care for the children, Saoirse grows familiar with the faces of the healers and other staff helping to care for them too. Anders is, of course, more familiar than most between their meeting in the hallowing chamber and their talk over the crystals before that. There is a lot of emotion that comes with his presence she finds, not all of it good despite herself and her usual way of handling her emotions.

Though, as she is learning, she is not the best of dealing with those either. It is perhaps not a surprise when some late morning she approaches where he is seated with a tray in hand. There is a kettle and cups atop it, along with small wrapped sandwiches given to her by the kitchen. He is not with a patient and so, she figures, this is the best time. In the end and despite their differences, he has worked tirelessly to help these children.

"It is good to see you again." She says in greeting, smiling. "I've brought something if you wouldn't mind the company."

He's... aware that there are complicated feelings there. She's very, very far from the only person to have then, and generally he tries to stay out of her way. It's not entirely easy when they have overlap, but she's been decent and it means when she comes over the look he gives her is one of slight warmth rather than just surprise or neutral.

Her words bring some surprise into it, though, and his face brightens more. Good to see him. That's really nice. Anders sets aside the notes he's been making and nods.

"Of course. I'd enjoy the company. Please, have a seat." The further he gets from Justice the more he appreciates breaks, and yet some habits are hard to break. "Can I do anything for you?"

She has always tried to remember her father in times like these. Remember his words and stories, remember how he would sing Chantry hymns to her and allow Saoirse to envision Andraste so brightly. It is with her blessings, and Saoirse's own hopes, that she can help to bring some of that light to this world once more in such dark hours.

It thankfully leaves little time for anger and violence. Carefully, she sets one of the cups before him and takes to pouring it before having a seat herself.

"For me? No. I just wanted to thank you for all that you've done for the children. It has been difficult at times, finding their families if they even have a family waiting for them." Which was the sad truth of an alienage. "You've helped to provide them with a comfortable and warm place, somewhere safe. It means a lot to me."

He nods his thanks as he takes the cup, before shaking his head.

"You don't have to thank me for that. I wanted to help. Children shouldn't have to suffer like that." There's a short pause as he reconsiders how that came out. "...No one should. But children especially."

He wants to believe the world can be a better place, and part of that requires helping make that better place.

"It's what..." It's what he wished someone had done for him when he'd been a young apostate, really. "It's what was needed, and I like children. There's something about their joy and their optimism that makes me almost feel the same."

"Yes, I do." She says, firmly. No one should have to suffer like that yet here we are and the children were only the tip of the iceberg. There was still many still missing from the alienage. "My father taught me long ago to always do so especially when otherwise my words would fail me."

She holds tight onto her cup with pursed lips, staring at her reflection in the dark tea before looking upwards with a tired sort of sigh that comes from long nights, early mornings and reuniting children with their families.

"I suppose I can understand that. We were all children once, after all."

"We were."

For a few moments he's quiet, sipping his tea.

"I meant more that you didn't have to thank me because everyone should be doing things like this. Looking after the younger ones. But they don't. Obviously. So you're welcome, and thank you for helping out as well."

Thedas does not often fit any picture of 'should.' That just means he needs to keep stepping up.

"I'm afraid I've no wise teachings to share from my own father. Unless you want to learn how to muck out a cow stall." That's safe enough. It's far separate from what his father truly taught him - a child is important unless it's a mage, in which case get rid of it and quickly.

It is later in the evening when she sets out to walk the length of the Gallows. It helps to get her thoughts in order, helps to settle any worries and figure out just what more needs to be done before she returns home for the evening. The halls bring back all sorts of memories and she is thankful when she passes by a door (an old office for one of the Templars, perhaps) that she spies someone familiar seated within.

She knocks once before poking her head in fully through the ajar door with a smile. "Warden Serra! It has been too long."

Inessa at a desk, tapping a quill against paper. If only reports could write themselves. Normally, it's a task to which she would engage with all due enthusiasm, but everyone has their off-days. So she looks over to Saoirse with some relief, as Garahel stirs and yawns from his spot on the floor.

"Oh! Please, come in. I have some tea left, if you'd like." It's now lukewarm, but that's nothing that can't be fixed.

"Thank you," she says and slips in on bare feet with another grin. "You have quite the nice office, I must say. I will have to bring you some of the flowers we are growing in the alienage the next time I am there though."

Stepping closer, Saoirse bends at the wait to pet Garahel atop his head before nodding eagerly to the offer. "Oh, I would love some. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's a bit lukewarm, but...." Inessa conjures a lick of flame after pouring, to reheat it just a little bit. She glances over to Saorise, friendly but curious. "What has you wandering at this hour?"

Not that it's especially late, but around now most are probably settling in for the night.

"Lukewarm is better than ice cold, which I have dealt with quite a few times out on the roads." Most taverns weren't known for their wide selection of decent tea either.

"Hmm? Oh, I suppose it is getting to that hour..." She half murmurs, glancing to a window as she lifts her cup up and takes a slow sip. "I just finished putting the children to bed. I thought I might unwind a little before returning back home."

"Well, if you were seeking endless paperwork, you've come to the right place." Inessa smiles a little tiredly, pushing the paper to the side. "I'm formalizing a field trip to the Amaranthine area, for the project, but it's nothing that can't wait. I suppose a little unwinding is in order on my end, as well."

She takes a sip of her on tea, leaning back. "How have you been, Saoirse?"

"Well, I am always here to help. I've been considering other project groups to go along with my work within Chantry relations, you know."

And she can't admit that she isn't interested in both the veil and the rifts especially when Andraste supposedly appeared within one. Still, Saoirse is glad that she is not bothering the Warden and offers another smile.

"As well as I can be considering recent events. I am still working tirelessly to find homes for the children, or if they have none, making sure that everything here is comfortable for them." A sigh. "This has never been a comfortable place, but I must say... I like it much more these days compared to when it was my home."

"If you seriously wish to join, you're of course welcome. We need all the help we can get, from whoever is willing." Inessa's not above a little encouragement when she thinks the project will suit someone and that she'll enjoy working with them. Why not?

Her expression grows more serious as she listens to Saoirse, brow furrowing. "I think many can say the same, and I'm glad for it. But can you elaborate? I know only a little, I'm afraid." She sounds a little apologetic, realizing how absorbing her work as been. But now is as good a time as any to catch up, if Saoirse is willing.

"If possible, I would like to help your group's work. I believe understanding more about the rifts and the veil itself can help be better accomplish my work with my other group."

Of course, Saoirse isn't sure if that would help when it coming from both an elf and a mage but she can hope for the best. For now, she offers a sad smile and considers how to explain everything that has happened since she has returned to Kirkwall with realization.

"It wasn't long after our arrival in Kirkwall that we realizes elves had begun to go missing," she says quietly. "We have been working tirelessly to find them but little has offered itself to us to answer where they might have gone. Recently, children were found in a warehouse..."

Her voice chokes slightly but she breathes out, steadies herself and continues. "Found in cages like animals. They're doing better now but... but I fear for the ones we have not found.

Inessa smiles in turn, but that soon fades as Saorise elaborates on the fate of those Kirkwall elves. She recoils as Garahel rouses enough to let out a soft whine of sympathy. Her tea is utterly forgotten, at this point.

"...sweet Maker. Who is responsible for this atrocity?" There's a hard glint in her eyes, one that promises no mercy if she encounters them while they still draw breath.

"All things in this world are finite. What one man gains, another has lost."

How often did she come to pray here when these walls were still home? Saoirse thinks she might have spent the most time here outside of her cell whenever there wasn't other matters that needed attending such as helping the wounded, counting the lost or trying to calm the children. The children inside the Gallows currently cry much less now as more of them return to their homes and families. It was one piece of the puzzle realized but there were more questions being asked than being answered.

"Those who steal from their brothers and sisters, do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind." It was likely why she has come to this familiar place, a place that once brought her comfort and peace of mind. "Our... our Maker sees this with a heavy heart."

Then why can she not find that peace now? Her words bubble out, broken by a sob as her shoulder shudder and drop. Why does it feel like everything is falling apart? It's why she can't help but give in to it, cover her face and cry.

Edited 2017-10-24 20:24 (UTC)

Prompto usually feels out of place here, given that he's not a native and he doesn't worship the same deity(es) that Thedosians do. They have their god(s), and he has his. Besides, the gods in his world aren't always kind. One destroyed a city in rage. The Oracle who spoke to the gods on behalf of humanity is dead. The world's falling apart. His faith... isn't exactly overwhelming at the moment.

But by chance he passes through on his way elsewhere when he hears someone praying inside. It's probably sacrilege or something to poke his head in during what's supposed to be a private moment, but curiosity gets the better of him. To his surprise, it's Saorise. He can't help but smile. Normally he'd say hello, but given what she's doing, he knows it'd be rude. He should just keep walking and-

...oh no.

That's a crack in her voice. And those are definitely the sounds of sobbing. He can't turn away when someone is clearly that much in distress, least of all her. Whatever plans he had, they're on the back burner now as he moves towards her.

"Saoirse." He kneels next to her, very cautiously placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. What is it? What's wrong?" There's nothing but concern in his voice and in his eyes as he looks over her, trying to discern what would be causing this.

It is hard, she finds to allows herself to show weakness like this. It made mages an easy target, an easier target that was whenever you showed your true feelings or broke down in front of the more cruel of the Templars. It was a lesson she learned early on, one taught down to the younger children and hidden away in others who had harder times.

Perhaps it came from a childhood in an alienage. She thinks fondly back on her childhood, but life was not perfect and even children learned how to avoid the eyes of the city guards. It was hard earned lessons that translated well into the Circles, and especially for life at the Gallows. Now... now though, she is at a loss and feels as though she is being swept away in the rush of her emotions.

Lost so much in her sadness, she does not notice Prompto until he says her name and is suddenly kneeling at her side. When she does notice him, she locks up and quickly brings her hands to her face to wipe away the tears. "I... I'm sorry."

Again, her voice cracks but she presses on. "These last few days have just been very difficult. I suppose it all caught up with me."

"Hey, you don't have anything to apologize for." Tears are never something to apologize for, despite whatever Gladio thinks. This does remind him of Noctis's grief, and those hard few weeks in the aftermath of Altissia. Here he hopes he'll be able to do more here than he was able to back then. Prompto tries to be positive and cheery wherever he is, so he puts on a smile for her. "You're allowed to cry it out if you need to. I'm sorry it's been such a rough few days." Of course a million scenarios run through his head, but he's unsure as to which is more likely. "If you wanna talk about it, I'm all ears. Or, if you just want a shoulder to cry on, I've got two of them that are in perfect condition."

"N-no, I should. I did not wish to burden anyone with this."

Whatever this is... Saoirse does not clarify but it is perhaps obvious given her current state of reddened eyes and the look on her face that screams everything is falling out around her. Nevertheless, she looks at him and smiles sadly with a tired sort of chuckle bubbling up out of her despite the sound of sobs wanting to spill out once again.

"For months now," she begins and grips the fabric of her robes. "Elves have been vanishing from the alienage here. More and more, we're losing them and I feel as though I am losing pieces of myself. They are the ones who saved me, protected me when Kirkwall was in chaos and sheltered me until I could leave the city. They are the reason I am here, breathing and able to speak with you now..."

"No one's a burden. And no one's problems are, either." And he means it sincerely.

For a moment, he wonders if she's going to keep it all bottled up. Or maybe just starting crying again. Prompto's not about to push her to tell him everything, but he's not sure what he'd do if she wouldn't talk, either. Just sit there and try and comfort her?

Luckily, she does begin to talk. He listens intently, his smile dropping as she tells him what's been going on and how it's affected her. Missing elves certainly should be cause for alarm, but given the blatant racism and treatment of them in Thedas, he has a feeling no one who can really investigate it cares. That sticks in his craw. "Going missing... that's awful, Saoirse. No wonder you're so torn up. Is anyone investigating it?" Again, he probably knows the answer, but...

She listens quietly and watches with eyes, sniffing like the child that used to cry in her bunk back when the Circles had been her homes. Carefully, she looks upwards at the statue of Andraste with a tired look before her grip relaxes and she shifts to stand with a offered hand where he has been kneeling on the ground.

"Shall we walk and talk? I do not wish to talk about such things in a place that should be a source of comfort," she says softly with a sad smile. "If you would like, of course."

Edited 2017-11-06 00:26 (UTC)

They have nothing like the Chantry back home in Eos, not really. Sure, they have a religion, in a sense. But the gods are real, everyone knows that, and no one really worships them or anything. They're just a part of history. The Oracle's the closest thing to a religious figure Eos had, and that's... well, it's a sad topic. Point is, he doesn't quite get why she wouldn't want to talk in here, but he at least respects that it's her wish, whatever the reasoning. So he nods, shifting to a crouch. "I would very much like to, if that's what you prefer, I mean. Whatever's best."

Prompto's mind short circuits for a second as she holds out her hand to him. Okay, sure, he had his hand on her shoulder earlier, but he'd just been trying to comfort her and hadn't really thought too much of it. But it's a lot more intimate holding someone's hand and -

Oh you are so overthinking this. Gladio would be laughing his ass off at you right now. She's just trying to help you up. Prompto gathers up his wits and takes her hand, trying to ignore how nice it feels under his as he gets to his feet. Even when he's standing up, though, he's still has his hand in hers, and he's smiling a bit. Until he remembers he's been holding it for a few seconds longer than is proper and immediately lets go. AHEM.

"Uh, shall we?"

(closed) dh’èirich mi moch madainn cheòthar

SINA

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

MYR

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I am so sorry for being the slowest tagger lately

ANDERS

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

INESSA

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

PROMPTO

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject