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

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

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Then he's as big of an idiot as the rest of them." Katniss pulls the stitch a bit tighter than she needs to. "If any of what has happened should teach us -- is that power and control are a illusion. Blown out as easily as a candle."

She looked down at the stitching, her voice quiet, "Just like all the innocent people who get caught in the middle." Another tight stitch. "I look forward to putting an arrow right between his arrogant eyes."

"If all it took was a little blowing I think, perhaps, the Herald would yet be alive, the Dalish would have their Dales, and there wouldn't be a Civil war in Orlais." If wishes were horses- well. She would have an empty stable. "That it is not so easy for those in the middle makes that it so easy for those causing this all the more distressing. We never asked for this."

The people of Orlais and the world in general- mages and the Templars that thought they were doing good work. The People of Thedas that were weary of war and Blight and death. "And yet it is we that shall fix it. Perhaps if we blow hard enough we can make it plain we do not intend to let this happen again."

"That's the point though. It doesn't just go one way." Katniss sighed, "And let's face it, the Dalish would have lost the Dales purely on the fact that they're a stubborn bunch of assholes who can't get along with anyone." She pauses, and sighs, and adds, "... Some of the clans are that way. But you're right. We never asked for any of this."

She looked at the woman curiously, "There is still a lot of hope here, isn't there? That we can do all that we said."

Yes, she said 'we'. She's in on this crazy mission to save the world.

"That we can finish what the Herald began." She had never met the woman- but those she knew that had? Spoke well of her. Honored her, respected her. That was more than reason enough to continue in her memory, if not only for their own survival. They would manage one way or another, or they would die trying.

"Then why are you worried about questions that we haven't found answers to yet?" Katniss asked quietly.

"Because having no answers leaves me uncertain. Mages cannot afford to be uncertain. It invites trouble at the very least and demons at the most." Stability, certainty, safety- these kept mages from possession along with a good deal of will. Right now- she has little.

It is distressing.

She frowned at that, before she pulled another stitch through the cloak. "So ... if you don't feel like you're in control, or at least, that you have all the answers, that makes all the mages more likely to, say, destroy the world?"

She muttered softly, "The Circle must have been hellish during the adolescent years."

"Less destroy and more petty infighting and looking for trouble or playing with things beyond our comprehension in an attempt to get the answers we do not have." A beat. "You have no idea. The sheer amount of attempted spells for seeing through clothing, being made invisible, or teleportation happens every single year and it is quite- frustrating. None of them work but the fallout is both humorous and migraine inducing."

"Are you telling me that mages all have this undeniable curiosity to just ... test the world to see how far it will go before it snaps back and hits them in the face? That they have to know everything about everything or they go a little snippy?" Katniss paused herself for a moment, "... and I cannot say that spell would not be good - for some people - but - "

She puts the cloak down, lips pressed together, "What about faith?"

Edited 2015-12-04 02:03 (UTC)

"Not all mages, but most that I have known all have their pet cause or question they unerringly seek to understand. Those without such questions simply seek to perfect the methods already available to us." Such had been her life- perfecting the nuances of Spirit Healing, teaching it where she could, learning more as best she was able with the resources at hand.

"It helps those that have need of it. When Faith is less a concept and more a spirit one might find- or not find- it takes a different meaning."

"Huh. Well, I guess all genius needs it's focus." She leaned back a little bit, mulling that over, "... Not that I really know about genius but, it makes sense."

"So there really are spirits of Faith, and Compassion? And ... can you all believe? Or do you all have to know?"

"Yes. I work with one." Adelaide turned a hand over, wisps of blue light pooling in her palm, swirling as she lets some of Compassion manifest. "They help me heal. There are spirits of Justice, of Compassion, Hope, and Faith. Manifestations of these thoughts and emotions in the Fade that can speak to us on this side."

Her fingers curled in as the light dimmed. "Some can. The pious mages- and as strange as it sounds they do exist, are happy to believe. I prefer to know. To understand."

She jerks a little, when the blue light starts to pour from her hand, but she doesn't run. Instead, she watches it carefully, and once she knows that it isn't going to attack her? "It's pretty. Although I suppose Compassion would have to be."

She thinks on that for a moment, "Doesn't that make it harder for you? Not ... everything can be understood."

"I did not need to know quite so badly before the Spire fell. I was secure in my place, researching more efficient and effective techniques for healing. It was all I needed. Now...So much has changed." She shrugged. "The more I understand now, the better I am able to help others, the easier it is for me to sleep."

Katniss fell silent, listening and musing over what the other woman said, before she nodded her head, "...Then I suppose it's not too dissimilar. I can understand that."

She looks across Skyhold again, her voice quiet "I can't sleep because of all the nightmares I have from not being able to help people. I see their faces, angry, accusing ... corpses reaching out to me. Being here? Doing something ... means that I am, somehow, doing something to honor their loss."

She snorted softly, "I suppose that's a good warning to watch out for my dreams. I can't imagine what kind of demons are crawling through there."

Adelaide stared at Katniss for a moment, not surprised by the sentiment. It seemed to be one shared by many in the Inquisition- tragedy and an inability to prevent the same. But what those nightmares may mean, what demons they might call?

"Grief. Despair. Fear. Rage, I should think, at the injustice of it all." She reached out, a tentative thing, the barest brush of her hand along Katniss's shoulder. "So long as they do not command you nor bid you to act in a way that seems questionable it is...horrific but not dangerous. Yet."

She blinked at the touch - but she didn't shy away. Just tensed for a moment, before she relaxed. One corner of her mouth lifted then, "My mother told me not to follow the voices in my dreams. The dark ones, at any rate. And my father said my dreams were mine to control, if I wished."

She tapped the bow beside her, "And in my dreams, I never travel alone."

"Wise advice." To be aware but unafraid- that much she could commend- those that were not mages had their own strangeness to be wary of in the Fade, but demons were drawn to strong emotion no matter the source.

"Who travels with you?"

"He was a wise man, and she knew many wise ways." She thought about it for a long moment, before she spoke quietly.

"Oftener than not now, it's my father. When I was younger, it was a mockingbird. It sat on my shoulder, and sang to me while I traveled through my dreams. It kept me ... real. Safe."

"The thing with dreams- even mage's dreams- it is difficult to say what is truly in the Fade and what is of our minds. But our loved ones...what I have read and experienced gives some merit to parts of them lingering to offer comfort and guidance when we have need of them."

She looks at Adelaine at that, her gaze sharpening with ... what was it? Hope? "So ... some fragment of my father might remain? To watch out for me?"

"Many schools of thought say we go to the Fade when we die- that we become spirits or wisps of Fade Dreams afterward. What I have seen and felt is enough for me to consider that true." She offers a thin smile.

"... You know, that's strangely more comforting then -- 'he walks with the Maker' now. The Maker's rather a cold god, all things considered." She sighed in turn, before looking at her, "Have you lost many, in these wars?"

"More than I can count." Her eyes turn back out to the night, eyes going distant. "I once had over fifty students in the Spire. We had three other Spirit Healers. Now..."

There is her and the few she's managed to save.

Katniss grimaced at that -- students, young people probably around the same age as Prim had been, or younger. She shook her head a little. "...I am sorry. I met some of the monsters, who took away your family from you. They took mine as well. But you and yours, you are safe here."

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