[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

[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."

[wickedchase]

There's nothing more that Twisted Fate chooses to say to that; normally, he'd be quick to bite and point out how in turn the Dalish can be no better, but this is far from the time to get into old arguments.

"I'll leave the decision up to the rest of you, but... know that, of course, I'd be willing to help as well. Whatever it takes."

[mythalenaste]

"Sundermount is ancestral, but the Veil there...I don't think it's worth the risk." Pel twirls the end of a braid around one finger. "Her last gift to the world was a forest. We should find her a place in a proper forest. Somewhere peaceful. Or maybe the gardens at Skyhold. She tended them, she made them what they are."

[wheretheferngrows]

Standing nearby, but not too close by, Fern has been listening to the discussion of where to lay Sina to rest, an idea that is still so foreign to her having been brought up quite Andrastian. But something Beleth says sticks with her, making her straighten up with alarm. Looking from face to face, she waits a moment before intruding--

"...what's going to happen to the forest?"

Her voice sounds more timid than she'd hope it would, but she squares her shoulders some, having said the words, and stands by them.

[arlathvhen]

Before she answers Fern, Beleth does her best to take a sleeve to her eyes--It's one thing to look like a teary slob in front of Dalish, but she's going to at least make an effort to look presentable in front of Fern. Still, her expression is undeniably tired.

"I don't know. They're having meetings in Kirkwall about it. They've made sure that the alienage elves can't even come in to get any fruit. Which is--" She closes her eyes, and takes a breath. "The Inquisition doesn't have any leverage here. I wish I could do more, but--"

Nope, composure isn't happening. Beleth rests a hand over her mouth before she turns away. Not enough, never enough. Not even for Sina. She finally manages, slightly muffled through her hands, a quiet "--I just don't know."

[mythalenaste]

"The forest is not in our hands," Pel says tensely, "The forest has not been in our hands since it was made. Regardless, it's not the forest that was the gift; it was the earth beneath it, fertile again. Only by salting it can they take away Sina's gift to them. But it's their land, not ours. My heart will break if they destroy the forest, but we have to remember that. If the humans came in and meddled with our holy sites, like the tombs of the Emerald Knights--if they came in and made it farmland and told us it was a gift, how would we react? This was always their site to reclaim. I know it hurts to think on it, but we should let them do with it what they will, perhaps even let them know we will not intervene in whatever they choose to do. That may calm them down."

[writteninblood]

"The plains."

Sorrel's voice is quiet. He's been sitting behind a wall formed from Beleth's shoulders and his own self-isolation, thinking more than listening and speaking not at all. But as the question continues, he remembers-- Thalia's suggestion, gently made, but firm. She had been Sina's Keeper, and even if that had not been true, the idea had merit.

"Where Dahlasanor began. It's enough away from anything the shemlen have need of to be safe, and safe to visit," That's the practical part, the thing that needs addressing before aught else. Sorrel pauses, elbows propped on his knees, and swallows. After a moment, he continues, "Every forest starts somewhere; we'll plant the first tree in sunlight, and help it grow. She would have liked that."

[arlathvhen]

Slowly, Beleth’s head turns to face Pel, and without a word, she stares at her. There are a variety of things Beleth wants to say in response to that, but none of them are appropriate here. So she just wordlessly, woodenly stares.

Then Sorrel speaks, and Beleth quickly wipes her eyes again, then turns her full attention to him. A hand goes to rest gently against his arm, watching him worriedly as he speaks. Once he finishes, she runs a gentle hand over his hair, trying to offer some comfort, even when she knows he will be hard pressed to feel it. More than anything else, her priority is his wellbeing.

“Sorrel, that’s a great idea. It’d be easy to get to, but no one will be burning it down. Peaceful.” She presses a quick kiss to the top of his forehead, before turning to see what the others think of the idea.

[wheretheferngrows]

Pel's words cut Fern to the quick, and she flinches. "But Sina--" she starts at first, but can't bring herself to interrupt further, if only because her small protest feels so feeble in comparison to so many shemlen gathered together in one place already, deciding the future of the place for them. She'd had nightmares over losing it, she could say, but it would do no good now, would it?

And Sorrel's suggestion sounds good, though Fern isn't sure what Plains they're referring to. "..is it close to Kirkwall?" she asks, uncertain of how easy it would be for her to visit it.

[mythalenaste]

She needs to fight someone on something. She needs to go back in time to when Sina passed through that wisteria archway and beat her past self for letting her go, don't go, please don't go. She needs to fight those ignorant assholes who can't take a gift when it's given. She needs to fight her own friends because...because she can't fight either of those others.

She clasps her hands, elbows on her knees, and looks to Sorrel. Proximity will be her deciding factor as well.

[writteninblood]

"Close enough," He replies, looking first at Beleth and then Fern, whom he is answering, "I know the Hightown forest was her place. But I don't think any of us could deal with what would have to happen if something went wrong."

Sorrel makes no promises on his own behalf, and doesn't have to. Leave alone what the Keepers would say, what Sorrel would do, what the Inquisition might or might not have the power to leverage on any of their behalf. What Nari alone would do at the thought of such a desecration... The Emerald Graves were a sacred site long-ago defiled by a conquering force Sina's loss was so much newer, a wound as yet unhealed.

He shows them his palms, empty, all his meager resources out for them to see.

"It was Keeper Thalia's suggestion first. But I agree with it, and it is close enough, if we're decisive."