[open] you'll come back when it's over

[eolasemah]

WHO friends and family of Sina Dahlasanor
WHAT: post-mortem interactions
WHEN: the evening of 7 Haring and onward
WHERE: the infirmary and elsewhere
NOTES: CW for death and illness. Apart from the main post I will not be tagging in. This thread is for wake/funeral/burial arrangements and anything else you guys want to play out pertaining to Sina's death, so feel free to make top levels or do whatever else!

It was the evening of the sixth when Galadriel paid her visit to Sina, after which the girl became mostly unresponsive. Still breathing, she slept through the night and day, waking up in the late afternoon just long enough to reach for Nari's hand and whisper something to her before falling away again. The candles grew dim and the shadows long before she stirred again, pulling in a last rasping breath, her lips moving soundlessly to form two unknown words as she exhaled and fell still.

It was hardly ten minutes later when, witnessed by friends and clan, the glowing green patch of magic that had plagued them all for the last couple years simply... vanished from the elf's sternum, as though it had never been there. Lying small and wasted away, destroyed from the inside out, anyone who looked at Sina for the first time would not understand what had killed her.

The room was then vacated by all but Keeper Thalia and Sina's parents, a balding large-eyed man with a quivering chin and a plain, sandy-haired woman, neither appearing all that much more vital than their late daughter. It was they who prepared the body for the resulting rites, silent and weary, their miracle baby laid to an untimely rest.

Out in the hall, Nari found herself surrounded in a collective embrace by a sea of russet-haired Dalish, her family. Even in a time like this, being with their daughter and sister brought comfort, and they hoped she might find some as well.
Sedi and Nymii stood as sentries on either side of the door, permitting only mourners and scowling down otherwise unrelated onlookers.

At last, at long last, it was over.

Comments

[wheretheferngrows]

i. the death watch and right after

Fern has never watched someone die before. Going through it this once, she decides she never wants to experience it again, because long before Sina draws her last breath, Fern has hit a wall of numbness that keeps her from feeling any of the things she'd expected to feel. Quiet and out of place (or so she feels) she hides at the back of the room as all of Sina's family and friends--her clan--cluster around her bedside; because that is their place, to be close to her.

When the end finally arrives, Fern doesn't even notice it at first. It's only the soft gasps and cries of those closest to Sina who witness the fading of the shard in her chest that clues her in to what has happened--and that's when the wall of depthless, intolerable anguish hits her like a wave. Catching her breath, Fern draws her hands up to her face, then quickly turns and slips out of the room into the corridor.

ii. approaching nari

It is some hours after Sina's death when, in a lull in the activity, Fern approaches Nari. It hadn't seemed right, before, to accost her while she was surrounded by family and clan... and Fern's composure had fled her at the worst time. Now, with red but at least dry eyes, she comes up to her side and places a gentle hand on her arm, looking up to her face wordlessly.

i

[mythalenaste]

Pel approaches swiftly, carrying a six-month-old in a sling, balanced on her hip. Her steps slow when she sees Fern, her expression changing because she knows what those tears mean. She knows what a death watch is like. She knows what it looks like to slip away and cry a few tears away from the sight of the dying, because somehow it is unforgivable that a dying loved one see you cry for the loss. But this urgency is different.

Sina died.

Tears are already in her eyes when she reaches Fern. She doesn't know her, but she reaches out to wrap her arms around her.

[wheretheferngrows]

Who is Fern to reject such an open-hearted gesture of kindness, of compassion? When Pel reaches for her, Fern goes into her arms without a word, muffling a cry of grief into the hands that still cover her mouth. Her shoulders shake with the effort it takes not to let her sobbing reach too far into the hallway; Maker, nothing has ever hurt like this, not even catching the Fade shard--

"She's gone," she manages to choke out tearfully.

i; after

[foxsays]

After being with Korrin, after attempting to get herself into a state where she can speak to other people without her throat closing or her chin wobbling, Araceli starts looking for Fern. Her head is pounding and her eyes are raw by the time she does, outside fortunately and away from everyone with fewer eyes, less noise.

Taking a shuddering breath, she sets a hand on Fern's arm, opens hers in an offer; this is a girl she invited into her home, into her life, if she hadn't already felt responsible in some way she'd feel it now.

"Breathe," she just about gets out as if she should be taking her own advice here. "You were there. You were with her."

[wheretheferngrows]

"Breathe. You were there. You were with her."

"I can't--" Pressed into her arms, Fern still has one hand held to her face, muffling her weak sobs as she cries against Araceli's neck and shoulders. Each breath is a labour to pull in, and it never seems to be enough, and each time she breathes out again all she can think of is how still Sina was, at the end. So still, so quiet--

Sina's soft, misty eyes, her gentle words, a stolen kiss, "Oh, da'len--" she'd said--

"I don't want to feel anymore," she manages to whisper, curling her fingers tight into the fabric of Araceli's clothes. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut.

[gatheringstorm]

I)

Perhaps it's due to Asher's similarly long death that Korrin manages to keep it together for most of the evening. Perhaps she feels it less her place when Sina is surrounded by her clan, those who had known her all their lives. Whatever the reason, the large Vashoth woman remains, grieving but quiet and composed until the green glow in Sina's chest vanishes. Her composure vanishes along with it, and she promptly departs the room; she doesn't make it far, sliding down against the wall of the hallway just outside. Her body trembles with the force of those sobs she was holding back all this time. The shard was gone; Sina was free of it, but far too late.

II)

When her immediate grief is spent and the room is off-limits, Korrin (tear-stained and with bloodshot eyes) searches for Nari. It's not difficult to find her, of course, in the middle of all those other Dalish. Their visible show of support is heartwarming and she's reluctant to intrude, but nor does she feel right about leaving her friend's side in this hour. Only when the sea of Dalish thins out does she step forward and draw the slighter woman into a gentle but supportive embrace. Words of comfort come to mind, but they don't get past the lump in her throat, so hugs will have to do.

i;

[foxsays]

By the time Korrin leaves, Araceli's already been gone for a while. She stayed long enough to be there but for all that she thought she was ready after what Sina said when she looked her right in the eye, she wasn't, and even if it's not about saving face there are always things she doesn't like people seeing. No one's ever died in front of her. Martel's death was an announcement, an offer to go through his room for those away, but this--

"Sirena?" Her voice is thick with tears still when she spots Korrin on her loop back around, eyes stinging and the word tastes of salt and sickness on the back of her tongue. "I'm sorry--"

Sorry she disappeared. Sorry Korrin saw that again after Asher's bedside. Sorry that Araceli won't have anything to help try to soothe the way she did last time either as her legs give out from under her. With her head on Korrin's shoulder, she doesn't have to look at anything at all as her vision blurs again (who knows what happened when she ran, when she raced out of that room as if every rift opened at once with all the demons spilling out behind her, she doesn't remember seeing anyone or anything).

"I won't see her again." And it's as if that's just dawned on her. Maybe it has. Castileos is rarely violent, she's never watched the life slip out of a body and her sleeve is tugged down over her left hand the way it used to be when she was still afraid.

[gatheringstorm]

Araceli's scent and voice register more than her blurry shape, though speaking is initially off the table. Still shaken and letting out pained sobs, she wraps an arm around her kadan and holds her close. I won't see her again. That's the part that hurts most, and there's a hitch in her ragged breathing, having just the same thought when Asher died. He had gone on ahead, and now Sina had as well.

When she's able to speak, her voice is rough, uneven. Tear-filled and liable to choke off at any time. "...the green patch on her chest...it just faded into nothing, like it was never there...I hated it so much and now it's just...gone." Tears stream down her cheeks, into Araceli's curls. "...anyone who just saw her now would never know what made her suffer, what killed her...."

[arlathvhen]

Ever since they were awoken and were given the news, Beleth has stayed by Sorrel's side, constantly checking on him, touching his hand, trying to offer some comfort. At first, she'd tried to keep a solemn but poised expression, but that dissolved into quiet tears, a hand pressed over her mouth to so she didn't make too much noise.

At least she's no longer in pain. It's the best Beleth has to comfort herself with.

Some time afterward, with people still gathered, she decides that it's probably best that they begin the unpleasant task of preparations. Technically, this is the kind of job that falls to Sorrel, her husband. But--One look at him, and she steps forward, instead.

"I suppose we should decide where the funeral will be held. I wish we could have it in her forest, but..." Even through the tears, there's a dark look on her face. Shemlen. Always making things worse. "...We can't guarantee how long it'll be around, and I don't want them touching her resting place. The Gallows...would also be nice, but we have no idea how permanent our residence is. Or what will happen after we leave. Sina deserves someplace peaceful, where she won't be disturbed."

[wickedchase]

"She deserves to be in the forest," Twisted Fate says quietly, agreeing. "But it won't go well." As he knows Beleth already knows.

"I know I have no part in this decision making, but perhaps Sundermount? Most of the people who live in this region won't go out of their way to be disruptive, I should think."

[arlathvhen]

"It never goes well." She knows, in the rational part of her mind, that she's just channeling grief into an old anger, a comfortable anger. It doesn't make her feel better. She'll have to do better when she's not around strictly elves.

"Sundermount's veil is so thin you could toss a stone and hit a spirit." She tilts her head, thinking. "But there are ways to fix that, for small areas. Or the base might not be so bad. But isn't that where Merrill's clan was...?" She doesn't want to say it. She'll just start crying more. "...I don't know. If we could make sure her body wouldn't be disturbed, it might work."

[justice_is_blond]

Anders isn't far behind Pel; Pel's just up from being caught in the Fade and he doesn't trust her body to not betray her. Then he sees the reactions and his worry changes, transforms into guilt alongside the pain of loss. He couldn't have done anything. He'd been trying for so long. But it still feels like he chose one friend and patient, Pel, over another.

For a time he lingers outside, quiet, leaning against a wall and out of the way. He doesn't want to intrude but he doesn't want to mourn outside where anyone can see him so he's here with his head bowed.

[wickedchase]

From a distance, Twisted Fate watches the gathering of Sina's clan and the other Dalish of the Inquisition. He feels an awful mix of things -- regret, mostly.

A year and a half ago, he'd joined the Inquisition with the thought that he could hide himself away from the rest of the world and have the protection of the organization; it was a better bet than anything else. He had no intention of bonding with others and befriending them, finding that he was better off on his own. It was less painful that way.

And yet. In a matter of time, there's been so much he's gained and lost. Nerva just a few months ago, and he drowned himself in so many ways to try to process the sorrow, all of it done poorly and he knows it. Though he wasn't horribly close to Sina, he remembers her kindly and her guidance while he confronted Clan Frandruil.

Twisted Fate wasn't a name he picked for laughs, for all that he jokes about it.

He should have come back sooner.

[mythalenaste]

"I didn't know you were back," Pel says faintly when she spots him in the hallway. Her face is pale and drawn, her eyes and nose raw, a red line around her mouth. On her hip is a six-month-old elven infant in a sling, sucking on her fingers. "Are you here to stay?"

[writteninblood]

i. Soon After
In the wake of seeing Sina in the fade had come the sneaking suspicion, the sudden fateful certainty-- and Sorrel had abandoned the catharsis of the moment for a mad dash through the Gallows.

And had arrived to a hall choked with weeping, with the many mourning Dahlasanor, passing Fern going the opposite way, and had known. Shock had slowed his steps, but he had still come to the door wild-eyed to see the slight, fallen-in thing that had so briefly blazed with Sina's life. She lay so still, it seemed impossible. Death and the dead, those he had seen before, but this was worse somehow. He couldn't have said how, and nor could he look away.

He'd missed it, that moment of passing, when he should have been here. But she had gone like this, surrounded by her family, her clan, her Keeper. Sorrel sinks to the floor and sits, transfixed. He has no idea what to do, no thought in his head except for a small, pointless denial. no.


ii. And Then

Sorrel could not weep. It frustrated him, in a distant way, because everyone seemed to be crying around him. He should have been the worst of them, some cool, distant voice insisted, if he had really loved her then he would have been inconsolable, hysterical, beyond all help. But he couldn't seem to cry. He only sat and stared and did what he was told without much care for whatever it was, so long as what was needed got done. Crying seemed too hard, somehow, but not-crying seemed to leave a pressure in his chest that only grew tighter and nevertheless showed no inclination to shift.

He was very tired. But sleep was impossible. There was so much to do, with a death. There were prayers and rituals to the preparation of her-- of the body. There was a grave-site to consider, the Keeper had seniority and yet Sorrel kept finding himself roused to respond whenever questions were asked. Why were they asking him? He wasn't Keeper. He wasn't anything, anymore. Except for tired.

So he simply moves automatically, as if to avoid punishment by demonstration of intense obedience. If you talk to him, you might have to try twice to get his attention; he'll startle if touched, but is responsive enough when you've secured his attention.


iii. A Reckoning

But he does have one duty yet undischarged, save that last task of all living to the dead; and for that he approaches Nari, or Nymii, Keeper Thalia, or anyone else who could reasonably laid claim to a more senior place in Sina's heart.

"I'm sorry."

It's a quiet approach, choked and slow-to-start, but in the end Sorrel speaks simply, unable to meet their eyes. Guilt and grief meeting to mix their bloodlines, their child like a thing with spider-fangs and mabari jaws.

"I couldn't save her. I tried," He had failed. Like bailing a boat with cupped hands, he had failed. They had given him the care of their most precious daughter and half a year later, she was dead, "I'm sorry."

ii

[mythalenaste]

Cool fingertips touch his back, a warning that she's about to put an arm around him. Today just won't end. It's overwhelming and exhausting, but they have to muddle through.

"Lethallin. Someone brought food. Come eat."

ii

[wheretheferngrows]

She isn't sure whether she should approach him, at first, considering... considering everything. Yet his pain, a mere shadow of which she knows she shares with him, touches her deeply whenever she glimpses him drifting from place to place, like one of the lost lambs she used to herd back to the rest of the flock in Ansburg.

The numbness of grief has set in for her, too; her eyes are red from crying, but the tears don't come anymore. The well of feeling isn't dry, but she can't reach its deeper waters now. That will come with time.

It's a blessed respite, though; it reminds her to see to the needs of her own body, to eat food and drink, and to remember that this isn't her loss alone--not by a long shot.

When Fern approaches Sorrel, she lays a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention, then offers a warm mug of milky, lightly spiced tea to him. "My ma's recipe, from home," she tells him, drops her eyes for a moment, then tries for a small smile. "Can I sit with you?"

[nadasharillen]

When Siuona's hand sought Nahariel's for the last time, the dark-haired elf reached for it like a drowning woman reaches for air; and even though she had promised not to grip, she did. She listened to her last words like she could sear the voice into herself. Her lips twisted as she fought to not drown out Sina's last breaths with her own heavy ones.

Sina's chest rose. It fell. It didn't rise again.

And time fractured.

Sina, the grasses from the plains blooming through her fingers in the shadows of the forest.

Sina, falling to the forest floor with a cry, struck with a sickly glowing star.

Sina, her eyes closing as Ghilan'nain's curling horns grew across her forehead under Thalia's hands.

Sina, her hands in the soil in the mountains, Skyhold's walled gardens returning to life.

Sina, her face serious and earnest as she repeated lessons about their history, about the Creators.

Sina, trying not to laugh and failing as Isen capered.

Sina, surrounded by friends, her eyes bright in the courtyard at Solstice.

Sina, face set and uncertain as they stepped out of the forest

Sina, her hair in bloom with flowers as she walked to the altar.

Sina, her eyes full of the plains of their name for the first time.

Sina, too tired to eat, managing a smile.

Sina, laughing with delight, her tiny hands reaching for the crudely carved halla waved above her wide brown eyes.

Sina.

There was a thump in the silence and Nari vaguely realized she'd toppled the stool she'd been sitting to the ground with the violence of her stumbling to her feet, her fingers numb. The stones of the infirmary looked strange, wrong--had she been here before? She knew she should recognize everyone around her, but they were from another world. Some of them were crying. She was crying. Why.

Hand finally met stone as Nari's stumbling reached the hall, and she pressed her cheek against it because its cold was real and she clung to its realness, her gemstone eyes wide and staring like a doe watching the arrow that would take it.

Someone was saying something, and then she was surrounded by strong familiar arms, and then more, and more, and she pressed her face into them and wailed, and it was thin, and quiet, muffled, and alone.





[I'll come be in your threads, but she's gonna be 'bout insensible save to the fam for this bit]

[mythalenaste]

"I have you," Pel says softly, holding tight. "Let it all go."

Sina told them to look after Nari. Pel is incapable of refusing her last request.

[mythalenaste]

Stupidly, the first thing she wants to do is find Sina so she can talk about it. Her thoughts fragment.

This tower has never felt this way before. It will never feel this way again, and it will never again feel as it did. That's some sort of deep thought that wouldn't make sense if she wrote it down.

It's unbearable that she's still in that room. Maybe when she's moved, the world will hurt less.

The worst part may be that Pel, before this, slept for about eighteen hours straight. Now, she can't sleep to break the fog. The baby sleeps, of course, and while the baby sleeps, Pel is left in the silence, pacing the hall outside her room.

[justice_is_blond]

There's a new sort of guilt as he comes to check in on Pel, and it's an old one as well. It's the guilt of again not being enough, not doing enough, somehow, even if there'd been nothing more he could do.

And yet he's making the rounds, because to abandon them is even more unthinkable than anything else.

Anders finds Pel in the hall and watches her for a moment before coming over and wordlessly seeking to meet her eyes.

And now ... for a flashback story

[judgemewhole]

James had seen all the Dalish around, of course. He knew what was happening, he had heard the whispers. He had kept his distance respectfully because Templars were not welcome around most Dalish. Pel and Cyril were ... well. He wasn't going to go into that, as he was scared enough about what they had been through, what they had put themselves in the middle of. This was all ...very sad.

So while funeral preparations went on, James had done what he could do, and took Sina for Pel so she could do what she had to do. He knew Cyril would also be busy. He and Sina went walking along the Gallow walls for awhile, and he spotted from a distance, Dalish moving this way and that.

Sina is trying to be fussy, so he took her down to the gardens. Like her namesake, Sina liked gardens, calming. He finds a place to sit with her, and puts her on his lap, letting her rest against him as he speaks quietly.

"I met your Aunt Sina in a garden like this, Maker, almost three years ago. I was ...well, I have not been fresh-faced anything for about fifteen years. But I was new to the Inquisition - forgiven for crimes - and all I wanted was to find some peace to pray. Okay, yes, you caught me. I was looking for your Mum." Sina grabbed at his hand, and he wiggled their hands together to make her laugh.

"She was fierce, with me. So small, so frail - looking up at a Templar a good foot taller than her and she ... stared me down. Stared me down told me if I did not have business in her garden that I should leave. She was doing the kind of Keeper magic that made the forest that we showed you, everything was green ... and beautiful ... and it was all hers. She was like a force of magical fury, and I knew that this? This was a Keeper would be someone who would not suffer any fools, and would care for her people. She made me back off, Sina. Made me back right off, and I did not tread in that garden again, unless I was with Pel."

Sina looked up, touching his face, with quiet toddler wonder. He smiles, kissing her little hand. "Here is my prayer for you, darling. I pray to the Maker, and the Creators too, that you are just like her. That you face down all enemies with the same courage, that you find things that you love as much as she did, and that you can protect them as well as she could. In short ... I hope you are half as brave as she always, always was."

[faithlikeaseed]

i. telling the bees
There is a tradition, in the Marches, of telling the bees: Whatever major event betook a household--a death, a departure, a wedding, a birth--the hives must be made aware, else the bees might grow ill or depart. On farms, it fell to the master's wife; on estates, in the Circles, to the beekeeper or her apprentice.

So it had come to Myrobalan in Hasmal. Often enough he'd told the bees there of failed Harrowings or apprentices made Tranquil, of transfers and Enchanters lost to war. Now he brings the Inquisition's losses to its two tiny colonies, following a tradition as old--or older--than the Chantry itself.

a. the Gallows

"Sina is gone, my friends."

His breath puffs out white in the cold winter air where he stands with a hand on the little skep tucked into its niche in the wall. A black cloth drapes the top of it; the bees have been put into mourning with the rest of the Gallows.

"You know Sina--her Keeper's First, bright of mind, warm of heart--who tended the garden to your delight. She is dead, as we all die; remember her to the Maker and leave us not in our distress."

There's more he could say--of lunches shared and bee-lore and sunny afternoons on the Chantry steps--but bees have short memories and not everything important need be spoken aloud to be remembered.

b. the Chantry forest

He goes to the forest hive singing, clear tenor voice lifted up in the words of a lullaby common to Dalish and city elves alike (though the Elvhen escapes him; he sings it as he learned it, in Trade). In light of the guard standing hawk-eyed watch about the place he'd requested an escort of whoever would come, to lend official Inquisition weight to the expedition.

It's a small thing but it's an important one, to bring the cloth and a gift of small cakes to the snug wooden box Nari had made, to knock gently on those whitened boards to draw the attention of the hive's slumbering inhabitants and tell that, at last, their other keeper had gone.

ii. ...and comfort those that stand in need of comfort

In those bleak days following, it seemed sometimes as if the Gallows entire were convulsed with mourning over Sina. Life limped on without her--so many had only known her as "that dying Dalish girl"--but enough of the Inquisition took to their cups--or their beds--with grief to leave everything just a little off-kilter.

Myr grieves, in his way, silent and tearless; brief as it had been, Sina's friendship was point of light and warmth in the chaos outside the Circle. But--grief is a burden he's accustomed to carrying without being overset, and he's always found it easier to shoulder if he has someone else to help.

He's among those bringing food to the ones who've missed meals, ready with a quiet word or kind smile for friend or stranger alike. If there's errands that need running or tasks that require only a pair of hands and not a pair of eyes, he's there to offer. No man can be everything to everyone--and he'd be a fool to try--but for now he can lay his other work (other griefs) aside and focus on this.

The Gallows

[circleprodigy]

The sound of Inessa's approaching footsteps might not stand out on its own, but the heavier tread of an adult mabari might be more noticeable. This is particularly the case when it's accompanied by a mournful whine, following Myr's announcement. As Garahel pads right up to him, his mistress remains mindful of personal space and pauses a little further away.

"You...told the bees? I don't quite understand, but you're kind to mention her nonetheless." Her voice is soft, tired, less stoic and professional than usual. Sina's death is a reminder of why their project is so vital...and why, at this moment, it feels like a failure.

ii

[arlathvhen]

She was fine--in a way--up through the funeral and wake. Beleth held on, because she had to, because it was necessary. She bottled everything up and set it aside to deal with at a later point in time. But that point in time came, and Beleth abruptly cut off all contact, turned off her crystal, and stayed in bed.

When Myr knocks, there isn't an answer right away, until he states who it is. Muffled noises follow, and shortly thereafter, the door swings open, Beleth staring haggardly out. Myr gets to miss what a mess she looks like, but there's an undeniable weariness in her voice as she greets him.

"Myr--Hello. I--Sorry." It's embarrassing to be seen--well, you know--like this, especially by him. But not enough for her to do much besides open the door and step out of the way. "Is everything okay?"