Be the one who stays | Open

[nadasharillen]

WHO: Nahariel (sort-of), and yooooou
WHAT: Wintermarch Catch-most
WHEN: Haring (post Sina’s-death) through Wintermarch
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: CW: self-harm, intense grief, depression, dissociation, suicidal ideation; Nari is likely to snap in and out of sudden cruel rages even when interacting with people she’s close to.

There comes a point when enough is carved away from a statue that it ceases to be what it was and can’t be put back again. In the fervent desire to put it right it becomes smaller and smaller until the only choices left are to doggedly whittle the ruined work to nothing or scrap it and begin again.

So it was with Nahariel Dahlasanor.

She looked smaller. Her frame was more gaunt than slender, her shoulders hunched and curled inwards to make a hollow of her chest as if she held something at her breast to protect it from the wind. Every emerald glance, when caught at all, was dull and brief before returning to the ground or some far off point known only to her. The sleek short cut of her hair had turned to uneven shag as it grew as it would, lank and uncared for. The whole of the erstwhile kind and genial elf looked like a plant left to blight, marked heavily by the absence of the hand that had nurtured it. Like a ruin, she had housed something once... but that thing seemed to be gone, replaced only by wind.


I. The Chantry Forest

By all appearances, Nahariel had continued to live in the home she’d shared with Sina. But with a lifetime as a Dalish scout behind her, those appearances meant less than nothing. Each night found her, instead, curled tightly in a clutched blanket with her knees drawn up, a knife in her fist, her back pressed against the feet of Andraste. Each morning with the sun she uncurls, and makes her heavy way back to the docks to start again; just another grain of sand waiting to pass through the hourglass.

Last night it had been colder, she’d slept longer, and when you come upon her she hasn’t yet woken. Under a thin layer of last night’s brief snow, Nahariel looks much like the incomplete statue that supports her—stiff and still, her skin dark as the burnished wood. Only the small unconscious movement of her hand clutching the blanket tighter around herself signals that life is one of the differences.


II. The Docks

Despite the bitter wind that often blows from the expanse of water that is Kirkwall’s harbor, Nahariel can often be found sitting with her back to a stack of crates, her eyes full of the grey of the winter sky and trained on the horizon. The whittling work so often in her hands is conspicuously missing, her thin fingers dry and cracked from the salt still in the wind and holding only her knees.

She doesn’t turn at your approach.


III. Elsewhere!

She moves between the Docks and Hightown each night and morning like a silent shadow, feet dragging just a little more each day, although thus far she’s apparently been quite able to avoid being caught by the patrols.

You, on the other hand, she isn’t keeping watch for.

Comments

[nadasharillen]

The girl frowns stubbornly but looks suddenly unsure, as if she'd taken her surroundings for granted and having them called into question made her realize she didn't know.

"We're..."

She grips the small halla tighter for reassurance and then repeats herself petulantly; this she was sure of.

"You're not supposed to be here!"

[aceso]

"I am sorry. I'm afraid I'm lost. Have you ever felt lost before?" Faith examines the form before her, taking interest in the halla figure in Nari's hand. What is it, and what does it do? It's one of those things she would try to recreate herself in this place, though since she started her connection with Christine, she prefers to know what the objects are.

[nadasharillen]

Lost? That was a little different. A little. Enough different that the child lowers the carving knife and looks at Faith with a sort of grudging curiosity.

"One time when I was shorter than the grass, and I couldn't find a tree to climb. And one time when we didn't know where to go, but we were all lost together."

She thumbs the halla statue's neck a little.

"My sister is lost," she says quietly in the serious way that only children have.

[aceso]

She considers this carefully, recalling what Christine said of her father and how she now believes he watches over her. Faith can only relate to others by examining what she's already learned from Christine. Spirits don't have the creativity to come up with these things on their own.

"Perhaps she is not alone. Perhaps she joined with others who were lost, and they are together."

[nadasharillen]

The thought that Sina wasn't alone - wherever she was - was almost enough to mollify the young Nari. Then her face crumbles.

"But I'm lost alone."

Saying it makes it real, and she says it again more forcefully, tears in her wide green eyes.

"Come back!" she screams into the sudden ocean beside them, feet sinking into the sand of Sina's beach.

The tiny sculpture splinters in her grip, and abruptly the child is gone--

--And Nari wakes with a wide-eyed gasp and begins to weep brokenly.

[gatheringstorm]

As soon as Nahariel's eyes open, Korrin bends down to gather the weeping elf in her arms. She sighs, stroking Nari's hair as she looks over sadly to Christine. "Thank Faith for me. At least they tried...." She knows she can't ask more for more than that, not really.

[aceso]

Christine winces to herself as Nari cries, but smooths out her expression by the time Korrin looks over and she nods. She'll have to discuss what happened with Faith later to see if something went wrong or if this would always be the result. But who knows? Maybe crying is what Nari needs right now.

Faith brushes against Christine's mind, sending out waves of confusion, but the healer reassures her spirit friend and rises from the floor.

"Can I do anything, Korrin?" she asks gently. Though Nari is in a dark place, Christine doesn't want to smother her right now and thinks Korrin is doing well on her own without Christine trying to swoop in to offer additional comfort. "Fetch you anything, perhaps?"

[nadasharillen]

Although Nahariel's sobs are bone deep, they have a different quality to them than before, as if she'd woken knowing something she hadn't before. Had different words. They splutter out against Korrin's chest now, heedless of anyone else in the room.

"She l-l-left me!" wails the Dalish woman, "She left me b-behind!"

[gatheringstorm]

"I know, hon. I know. Let it all out...." Korrin doesn't have to say that Sina didn't want to; that doesn't make the pain any less. She squeezes Nahariel very gently, heart aching as she listens to those sobs, but it's still better than her friend being half-frozen and mute.

"There's some water in the kettle." She'll need something warm to drink afterward, won't she? So will I, come to think on it."

[aceso]

"Of course." Christine moves to set the kettle over the fire and looks for mugs and spoons. Though she's never been here before, she keeps her search to the most obvious places and comes across what she needs soon enough. As she does, she moves as silently as she can so she doesn't disturb the sad scene unfolding in front of her.

Once she has everything necessary, it's simply a matter of waiting to pour when Korrin gives her the signal. Until then, she'll hang back and let Nari grieve.

[nadasharillen]

"I'm s-so--" Nari continues, heedless of the movement around her, her hands fisted in Korrin's sleeves. "I'm so--" She flushes with the effort, cheeks reddening. (At least her circulation is returning?)

"I'm so angry!" she finally manages, expelling the words like they're too big for her mouth to hold, like they were meant to plug the hole in a sinking ship and failed in a spectacular and dire geyser. "I'm so angry at her!

"Why wasn't she more careful! Why wasn't she faster! Why did she go out so far!" Each accusation is punctuated by a weak shake of the fabric she holds clenched in her fists--although it does little to nothing to move Korrin's sturdy frame. She knew it wasn't fair, and she didn't care, although the rising heat in her face began to draw its strength from shame rather than rage.

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin's voice is quiet as she responds to Nari, trying to support her and not override her. Nahariel needs to let this out, obviously, no matter how much it hurts. Right? Her questioning eyes meet Christine's, hoping she's doing the right thing.

"It's okay to be angry, Nari. I promise, it's okay...." Rational or not, fair or not, it's a valid feeling and she's not about to deny that.

She nods at Christine to pour; Nari obviously has more to say, but that tea will need time to cool a little anyhow.

[aceso]

Having been a healer within the Inquisition for several years now, Christine recognizes this stage of grief. She nods at Korrin. The woman is doing the right thing. What Nari needs is to naturally move through her grief, and now that she's here, she can do that safely.

Getting up, she carefully takes the kettle from the flames and pours through the tea leaves. She then moves the strainer to the next mug and repeats twice more, so there are three mugs of tea ready to go when Nari feels more up to it.

[nadasharillen]

For a while Nari just cries. It's interspersed with similar exclamations of helpless anger, the illicit thrill of lashing out without care at someone she had loved so completely. And then it's just crying. And then hiccups. And then a long sigh, covering the red-rimmed puffs of her eyes, her red and raw nose, with her hands. A wet sniffle.

And then, muffled and plaintive from behind them, "...Can I have some tea?"

[gatheringstorm]

There's nothing but patience on Korrin's end, as she holds Nari and rubs her back or strokes her hair. She doesn't mind letting the tea cool while Nari's sobs trail off into hiccups. At last hearing her friend's voice, beyond that very raw display, fills Korrin with relief.

"Of course. I can heat up some broth, too. You need more in your stomach than tea." Given that she isn't sure how long it's been since Nari had a full meal, Korrin knows better than to give her anything heavy right away. Broth, and those ship's biscuits softened up in them ought to help. She darts a tired but genuinely thankful smile at Christine, reaching for a mug to pass on to Nari before getting one for herself.

[aceso]

Christine's lips lift in a slight smile, because this is all a good sign. Getting something into Nari's stomach will help on the path to recovery.

"How do you feel -- physically, I mean?" she asks the elf gently. "If anything hurts, I can aid you."

[nadasharillen]

One hand reaches out blindly for the offered mug, the other still covering her eyes and nose. Once successful--mostly due to Korrin--she grudgingly relinquishes her shield in favor of wrapping both hands around the warm mug and pulling it close to stuffily inhale the steam. Her knees pull up as well, until she is a small elfin ball capped with disarray. But some calm as well.

"I'm..." she frowns slightly, taking stock of herself, "...my face is sore." she admits with a wry smile quirking the edge of her chapped lips, "And my toes tingle, but I'm okay. Nothing hurts."

[gatheringstorm]

That sip helps clear Korrins head and she sits up a little straighter, managing a warm smile down at Nari. That her friend is relatively calm and coherent on top of the rest is a better sign than she would have hoped for.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. This is one of the few times I'd wished I'd been a Spirit Healer, but at least we had one available. And you know I'm not sending you back out into that, right? Stay the night, have Lux warm those feet up with his furry self. He's good at that, trust me."

[aceso]

Christine wraps hands around her mug and brings it to her lips, blowing across the surface and smiling a little at Korrin's offer of Lux's services.

"There is nothing quite like a warm, furry animal warming your feet on a cold night. You do not want to pass that up."

[nadasharillen]

Speaking of...

"Thank you. Christine. For coming," Nari says, looking into the mug cupped between her hands. "I'm not sure what you did... but... I'm sure..." she shrugs helplessly and looks up briefly to ghost a smile at the mage. And then yawns aggressively, her need for rest suddenly catching up with her. "Lux can come if he wants," she says, yawning again in the middle of speaking and looking slightly abashed.

She doesn't say she'll stay, but she's not moving.