[ OPEN ] The sky is on fire, at least that is the word out in the world

[fleurdesel]

WHO: Adelaide LeBlanc and Various
WHAT: Adelaide returns to Skyhold
WHEN: mid Firstfall
WHERE: Courtyard, Library, Tavern, Garden, Battlements of Skyhold
NOTES: N/A, will update as needed

[ Courtyard A ]

The walk had been a long one. A long, boring, exhausting one- but one she'd made out to the mire and one she made back. Catching the odd ride from a cart on the way up the mountain had made stretches of it easier but her only concern now were a few requests and concerns as given to her by her students through the sending crystals. First thing was first: eat. Change. Rest. Then she could tend to the list of errands that brought her here.

Cloak dusted with snow and weight listing heavily against her staff with each step, she made a weary sight as she strode with unwavering focus to the Hold's doors. Students first, the rest would come later.


[ Gardens ]

Her concerns here were twofold- looking over the elfroot for improper trimming (recreational smoking, Andraste's ass, what were they thinking) and proper growth. Sleeves rolled up, hair bound back she knelt and checked every plant by hand to be absolutely certain, from root to shoot to leaf before moving on to the next. For elfroot, embrium, any plant with medicinal properties in the garden- and then a few that were not. The repetition and examination was soothing for her, a shred of familiarity that reminded her much of the time she'd done the same in the Spire's small garden.

Afterward- well. She began examining trees. For- meddling. Before seeking out a particular dalish mage. While it wasn't the only reason she returned, it had been a large part for her taking the walk back.


[ Library ]

Nothing on the plague as far as Bruce could tell while he was here- she hadn't passed him on the road but he'd indicated that he would be coming down to the mire to help when they last spoke. She did not doubt him his research- but the questioned and rather vexed swearing of the latest round of rifters had her seeking anything on the veil, the fade, and Tevinter magics. She could simply ask Dorian, she supposed, but his was more modern, less ancient. Mug of tea steaming at her elbow she picked through stack after stack of either horribly vague or horribly specific and useless information. Now and then she made a note or sat back, glaring at whatever she read, and muttered under her breath- "Bullshit."


[ Tavern ]

Evening found her at the tavern, eating with her students (glad for her return) and enjoying a solitary glass of wine. No books, no arguments over the state of the garden or the improper use of magic- just a meal. She might even be smiling ever so slightly while she listened to how they spent their days or the progress they've made in their studies in her absence. Now and then she wove her way to the bar proper to order another glass of wine for her other students or a mug of tea for herself, trying her best not to bump into anyone on the way there or back.


[ Battlements ]

Exhausted as the Mire had made her, long as her days have been, Adeliade did not find sleep easily. Between stress and frustration at not finding a cure or cause for the plague just yet or any manner of explanation for the rifters weighed on her more than it ought to. She never pretended to have the answers, never tried to know the whole of a problem. She was a healer and as much as it was in her nature to fix things- she wasn't certain if it was her own mind or Compassion that kept her from rest. Not wanting to bother her students (Roul minded the door in her absence) or anyone else for that matter, most nights found her on the battlements, bundled against the cold as she paced. Perhaps it would wear her out enough to sleep.


[ Courtyard B ]

Later in the day Adelaide can be seen coming up from a part of the hold, carting dust bins and cobweb covered brooms- more than a little dusty herself, and dumping the lot out, beating the broom against the stone side of the building, and taking a moment or two to enjoy the light and the fresh air before she wandered back down. Rinse and repeat, several times, until whatever room she was clearing out below was cleaned to her satisfaction. Needless to say it would take some time.

Comments

[mythalenaste]

Pel folds her arms and sits back. Her voice is low, but cool.

"I joined the council to ensure the interests of the Dalish mages were represented. Part of our tradition is that the Keepers protect the clan. I don't use magic when it's not needed--it was the only advantage I had. He's a strong warrior and wouldn't listen. Don't interfere with my protection of my people."

[fleurdesel]

"If he were in danger from anyone but his own foolishness no one would fault you. I, personally, do not fault you. But you must be aware of how it looked. Appearances matter, Pel, now more than ever before." Oh Maker she sounds like her mother. Something else for her to hold over Dorian later. "There is a fair portion of the Mages of the Inquisition displeased enough with the council and we've barely begun. If we do not take care to mind ourselves, that portion can easily grow. Moreover there are those that are wary enough of mages without such displays."

[mythalenaste]

"You're telling me to fall in line and act like everyone else. I don't abuse magic, Adelaide. I thought we made the council to handle these matters ourselves, not bully each other into never using magic for fear of how it will look to people who aren't involved."

[fleurdesel]

"I am telling you to mind how you use your gifts." How is hanging someone by the ankle with magic not some manner of abuse? "Which is why I am here speaking to you now rather than a templar or one of the advisors. You restrained someone otherwise unable to defend himself from such actions with your magic. If this is how it is done with your Clan, that is one thing and as much as we can likely attempt to explain it in such a way it still makes all of us look...unreasonable. 'Agree with the mages, obey the mages, or get set on fire' or something to that effect. We discussed the idiots and the cook in the meeting, did we not? This is no different."

[mythalenaste]

Pel squints.

"Your informant neglected to tell you he broke free of the branch with his own strength, and quite easily? I'm not a bully, Adelaide. He was able to free himself the entire time."

[fleurdesel]

"And the cook was able to stomp out the fire on her own skirts. That the slights were just that, slight, does not negate the fact that they happened in the first place. A single misinterpretation of intent is all it takes for everything to spiral out of control. I have seen it. I would very much like to avoid the same from happening here." She doesn't have the words for how much she would like to keep that from happening again.

[mythalenaste]

Pel goes quiet at that, absorbing this, biting down on the bitter taste it leaves.

"You're saying it would have been fine--if we'd been among our own and not...bloody...here."

This fortress is starting to feel claustrophobic. But.

"And I'm not a Keeper," she sighs at last, releasing that one justification. "I'm Keeper's First. And I'm not really even that, here. Just a pissed off older sister setting an example for other mages that so long as they're as pissed off as I am, they can do as they please. Is that what you're saying?"

[fleurdesel]

"The situation complicates itself in the Inquisition, unfortunately." There has been many a time she would have been willing to do the same for a problematic patient- but her own contract and mindfulness makes that unwise.

"...That is how it appears, and why we must be mindful. Best that Sabine could tell no one else that was present has said anything- and Sabine took care to call me and only me with what happened." Privacy apparently is, in fact, a thing with the crystals. "I know it was not your intent, which is why this is a one on one conversation rather than an attempt to wrangle the lot of us into a proper meeting."

[mythalenaste]

"You're right. Thank you for that. Keeping it between us. I just... Mythal'enaste, it was stupid of me."

She stares at the work before her and find that, for the first time in weeks, she doesn't feel like doing any of it.

"This...idea that we have so much power. I don't understand it. I sleep in a room with a big strong mercenary because I'm afraid of other big strong mercenaries breaking in and doing things I can't defend myself against without magic. But nobody sits them down and tells them not to take a fellow by the ear and drag him away from a fight. I'm afraid...if I can't use magic when the score needs to be evened, what am I left with?"

[fleurdesel]

Adelaide lets it sit for the moment, glad to have at least managed this with some semblance of grace. Then again Pel has ever been sensible. Framing concerns is half of the fight- merde she is becoming her mother. A 'proper LeBlanc'. Maker preserve her.

"And with a thought you could impale them with blades of ice or freeze the very blood in their veins. Such are the fears we have for one another." Such are the fears she has every night. "If it is to defend yourself? That is another matter entirely. What prevents them from acting against us is...fear, more often than not. Their commanders. Their minders. The respect we earn and demand of them by working to better the Inquisition."

[mythalenaste]

"I'm an elf. I might never earn their respect. I can easily earn a little fear from them, just a little and it would make things..."

A deep breath in, then out.

"But that's not the right thing to do. If I can only have their fear rather than their respect, I'll have neither. Only my enemies should be afraid of me. I...ma serannas. I needed the reminder."

[fleurdesel]

"Heroic acts or a wealth of research such as..." she gestures to the table. "That further the needs of the Inquisition are invaluable and worth respecting. So long as we are of use and make ourselves indispensable? We have that respect. Why do you think I spend so much of my time in the healing tents, mending those that I can personally?"

Part of it is Compassion's bidding- but the rest? Making certain that she and hers are not seen as anything other than helpful. Useful. Benevolent.

"If you ever need one you can find me or consider this: What we do here is larger than the mages of the Inquisition. It will color what happens for all mages in Thedas should the truce fail and the war begin- and everything after." A beat. "That is not any pressure at all now, is it?"

[mythalenaste]

"Not really." Pel gives her a dubious look. "I'm not...one of you. Most people won't see me as anything but a Dalish elf, and we're already utterly dismissed as far as everyone else is concerned. Any efforts I make to change how people think about anything will result in disappointment. This--"

She gestures to her research.

"None of the shemlen are going to care about this. I'm lucky Commander Cullen thinks it's useful to the Inquisition, but I'm not going to trust in his goodwill if I can't keep proving its use. Most people here are going to wonder why the Inquisition is wasting resources on elven history and see me as a waste of space. It's how things are. If I made decisions based on what other people would think about them, I would be in the Free Marches helping my Keeper look after our clan."

[fleurdesel]

"This is research on the veilfire runes, yes? Are they not connected in some way to the marks and shards from the rifts? Are we not, as members of the Inquisition, in the business of attempting to understand more of them and close them?" How was that, any of that, not valid?

[mythalenaste]

"It's not a good enough reason that it helps elves all across Thedas?"

[fleurdesel]

"It does that as well, and for that the research is doubly valuable. Consider what 'shemlen' might find of value in your work before you dismiss them entirely. We are, or so I have heard, quite self interested. Speak of it the right way and you'll have them grateful for it." And that- that is certainly her mother's voice in her mind. Almost thirty years and it's back to this- how wonderful.

[mythalenaste]

"I don't need their gratitude, I need their resources. But those are good points to make to doubters." She traces a seam in the table with her thumbnail. "How did you know about the connection with the shards?"

[fleurdesel]

"Now you are thinking like an Orlesian." Which was- well. It can be as much a compliment as Pel wishes it to be.

"I spoke with Sina in the garden earlier." As much as one spoke to the girl. But she seemed well enough.

[mythalenaste]

"I don't know if it was the runes or the veilfire," Pel says softly. "She wants to help my research."

[fleurdesel]

"Did it hurt her? She didn't say much beyond that the shards reacted, now how." Either of those could be the cause- and it isn't something she ought to be exposed to if that's the case.

[mythalenaste]

"She wouldn't quite say. She was already exhausted and seemed in discomfort, but she always seems like that."

[fleurdesel]

"The rifters complain of a dull ache from their- whatever it is. As what is embedded in her chest seems similar it must be worse. A hand is a hand. A heart? The lungs? I am surprised she made the climb to Skyhold. Aside from assist with the discomfort there is nothing that can be done for her that I know of." Removing it isn't an option when they do not even know what it is that needs to be removed, or if it's possible.

[mythalenaste]

"If their shards are like the mark the Herald had, if they really have power over the Veil like a...a needle drawing thread, then what exactly about Veilfire do you think makes her shard respond?"

[fleurdesel]

"Resonance, quite likely. The veil is more a magical vibration than actual barrier; if we think of it in terms of music it may be much like the strike of one bell causing it's brother to reverberate as well."

[mythalenaste]

"But she's a mage. That sort of thing is always happening around her, and in her. Are you saying it's troubling her constantly?"