1. The World Is Changed Galadriel opened her eyes and then, without pause, felt she had opened them again. The world, once clad in ancient stone and the high, whipping mountain cold, was replaced by a new, dimmer version of itself. What was memory faded and what was real came into hard focus--the light drizzle of rain tumbled from a dreary grey sky, the hard packed frost was replaced with thick, cloying mud, and the relative ease of life in Skyhold was dispelled by the sharp splinter of pain up her arm. Disoriented and weak, Galadriel lifted her hand toward the rift on reflex--she drew on the power of the ring, but the power of the ring was no longer with her.
The ring--
Galadriel's vision drifted still, yet she couldn't bring herself to focus on the rift. She twisted her hand in the air and stared, in horror, at the space between her fingers. Her skin was alight, glimmering as brightly as it ever had, a beacon against the dark sky, but there was no ring upon her finger. Apart from the mark that marred it, her hand was bare, and her horror mounted as she stared. The world was lost to her as shock and panic siezed her heart and, in her negligence, she failed to notice the demons that fell from the rift and rose around her.
It was bare moments before she was torn from her reverie; a terror's claws came down, raking across her back and gouging deep into her side. She drew a sharp breath, or tried, as the air was knocked from her and, all at once Galadriel was cast to the ground. Haloed against the rift, two terrors and a slew of shades drew close and set upon her.
[OOC: You can do this option with just Galadriel or with both Galadriel and Haldir! If you want the Galadriel+Haldir option please tag into Haldir's thread below!]
2. Much That Once Was Is Lost
The combat was done and the haze of it, the energy of panic and fear, of violence and pain, had all but faded. Now, only the pain remained. Galadriel gripped her mid-section as she leaned against the wall of the farmhouse. Her gown gaped at her hip and below her breast, torn to shreds where the demon had raked its claws through the fabric and her flesh. The white silk was stained a deep, disconcerting red, from neckline to where the hem was wet with muck. Only one of her sleeves remained brilliant white, but the way it shone now was macabre and ghastly. She was pale, but her radiance had not dimmed, she was lit from within with the warm glow of dawn and the cold glitter of the stars, the blood across her flesh was like spots of shadow.
"How has this come to pass?" Galadriel wondered aloud, her voice slow and groggy, distant with pain and bloodloss. In her hand she holds a silver brooch--an eagle clutching an emerald of appreciable size and clarity. Green light spilled around and from the piece of jewelry, but it was not the strange light of the fade, nor did it seem to illuminate much of anything beyond the haze of cold that hovered in the air. She peered at it and her expression was ready to crumble, either to tears or rage it was hard to say.
3. Caravan
Nevarra was unknown to her, but she was given little choice. She lacked the resources to locate Nenya by foot and now she lacked the strength to use her power to search it out. She required assistance and the only assistance she knew of would be found with the Inquisition.
She traveled slowly, often with Haldir at her side, and while her wounds were closed she was far weaker than she could ever recall being. Of the Quendi in Thedas she looked most restored, her light burned as brightly as it had ere the Trees rose above Valinor, but she lacked the power of Nenya to bolster her and the toll of using the Elessar fell heavily on her.
Her dress was in tatters, she certainly hoped there was some acceptable level of fashion in the land they traveled to, she would have to find a new one in short order.
Galadriel | Tolkien | OTA
Galadriel opened her eyes and then, without pause, felt she had opened them again. The world, once clad in ancient stone and the high, whipping mountain cold, was replaced by a new, dimmer version of itself. What was memory faded and what was real came into hard focus--the light drizzle of rain tumbled from a dreary grey sky, the hard packed frost was replaced with thick, cloying mud, and the relative ease of life in Skyhold was dispelled by the sharp splinter of pain up her arm. Disoriented and weak, Galadriel lifted her hand toward the rift on reflex--she drew on the power of the ring, but the power of the ring was no longer with her.
The ring--
Galadriel's vision drifted still, yet she couldn't bring herself to focus on the rift. She twisted her hand in the air and stared, in horror, at the space between her fingers. Her skin was alight, glimmering as brightly as it ever had, a beacon against the dark sky, but there was no ring upon her finger. Apart from the mark that marred it, her hand was bare, and her horror mounted as she stared. The world was lost to her as shock and panic siezed her heart and, in her negligence, she failed to notice the demons that fell from the rift and rose around her.
It was bare moments before she was torn from her reverie; a terror's claws came down, raking across her back and gouging deep into her side. She drew a sharp breath, or tried, as the air was knocked from her and, all at once Galadriel was cast to the ground. Haloed against the rift, two terrors and a slew of shades drew close and set upon her.
[OOC: You can do this option with just Galadriel or with both Galadriel and Haldir! If you want the Galadriel+Haldir option please tag into Haldir's thread below!]
2. Much That Once Was Is Lost
The combat was done and the haze of it, the energy of panic and fear, of violence and pain, had all but faded. Now, only the pain remained. Galadriel gripped her mid-section as she leaned against the wall of the farmhouse. Her gown gaped at her hip and below her breast, torn to shreds where the demon had raked its claws through the fabric and her flesh. The white silk was stained a deep, disconcerting red, from neckline to where the hem was wet with muck. Only one of her sleeves remained brilliant white, but the way it shone now was macabre and ghastly. She was pale, but her radiance had not dimmed, she was lit from within with the warm glow of dawn and the cold glitter of the stars, the blood across her flesh was like spots of shadow.
"How has this come to pass?" Galadriel wondered aloud, her voice slow and groggy, distant with pain and bloodloss. In her hand she holds a silver brooch--an eagle clutching an emerald of appreciable size and clarity. Green light spilled around and from the piece of jewelry, but it was not the strange light of the fade, nor did it seem to illuminate much of anything beyond the haze of cold that hovered in the air. She peered at it and her expression was ready to crumble, either to tears or rage it was hard to say.
3. Caravan
Nevarra was unknown to her, but she was given little choice. She lacked the resources to locate Nenya by foot and now she lacked the strength to use her power to search it out. She required assistance and the only assistance she knew of would be found with the Inquisition.
She traveled slowly, often with Haldir at her side, and while her wounds were closed she was far weaker than she could ever recall being. Of the Quendi in Thedas she looked most restored, her light burned as brightly as it had ere the Trees rose above Valinor, but she lacked the power of Nenya to bolster her and the toll of using the Elessar fell heavily on her.
Her dress was in tatters, she certainly hoped there was some acceptable level of fashion in the land they traveled to, she would have to find a new one in short order.