[OPEN] i will be your true companion

[wheretheferngrows]

WHO: Fern + various starters, and OPEN
WHAT: Life keeps going, even when you lose someone you care about.
WHEN: Early through mid-January.
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: None currently, will update as necessary.

I. HERB GARDEN (OPEN)


This was not how Fern had ever hoped to take on the mantle of Head Gardener--but with Sina gone and no one else in the base operations project possessing the same skill set, she steps into the role without complaint. Besides, some part of her cherishes the opportunity to familiarize herself with what would have been Sina's old routine.

She's bundled up against the cold one early morning, eyes still a little heavy from recent sleep and her expression tired and neutral, and is at work clearing out some of the remaining bits of dead brush that weren't gathered before the snow and ice storm arrived. Some of the brush is set aside to be used for kindling or mulch later.

It's simple work, tedious, but it helps to keep the lingering grief at bay.



II. BELETH & SORREL


Fern is cautious to approach them at first, even with Sina's promise in the back of her mind. The burial and funeral are over, and it would of course make sense for the two of them to put their own families and the needs of their clan ahead of some silly farm girl who may not realize she's overstepping their boundaries.

Eventually, she summons up her courage and seeks them out in the garden... waiting for the right time, of course, so as to not interrupt them in the middle of a private conversation.

She clears her throat and peers into their peripheral vision, hoping to catch Beleth's eye, or Sorrel's. "Um," she starts gracefully, "hello. I don't... know if you remember me--"

Sorrel surely does. Beleth may not.



III. MESS HALL (NELL)


It has been a bit easier for Fern to focus on her spellcasting since returning from the Plains--a bit, at any rate. Gaining closure in one respect doesn't mean she has a solution to her other most recent problem, namely Finch's arrival and all that that entails. Still, she's desperately afraid of disappointing Nell, and so perhaps tries too hard to focus on the lessons as they are described to her. Too much concentration means burnout, which means more mistakes.

She's trying not to dwell on them while they sit in the mess hall together eating lunch, but it's difficult not to get discouraged. And in the back of her mind, she's toying with another thought, one that Anders brought up to her when he reached out to her with a message the other evening.

In spite of whatever else it is they're discussing, when there's a pause, Fern looks across the table at Nell and asks, "Do you know Anders very well?"



IV. ELVEN ARTIFACTS OFFICE (PEL)


It's a bit of an adventure for Fern to find her way to the Elven Artifacts research offices, just because she spends very little of her day in this part of the Gallows--but find it she does. After a moment spent straightening out her shirt and tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ears, she knocks on the door and waits.

Comments

[arlathvhen]

Beleth turns as Sorrel does, the matching piece to their bookends of startlingly bright eyes and weary faces. She stares at Fern for a few moments, then turns back to Sorrel as he speaks. Once he finishes, she gives an affirming nod.

"You were...a friend of Sina's? You were with her." With her at the end, something that neither Beleth nor Sorrel could do. It was nice to know that someone had been there, at least. "What can we do?"

[wheretheferngrows]

"You were... a friend of Sina's?"

Very briefly, Fern's eyes shift from Beleth's to Sorrel's, before she has to look away from him. 'Friends.' She supposes they were; that was all they'd had the time for, even with the kiss--

"...yes," she answers, a sad little smile quirking up the corners of her lips. "I was with her, we were--friends."

After a moment's hesitation, she takes a few steps nearer to them in the garden and clasps her hands together in front of herself. "Sina talked to me about the Dalish and the Creators. She said, if I wanted to learn more, I should speak to you--her clan." Her fingers fidget together nervously, before she adds, "I know I'm not Dalish, but I want to learn."

[writteninblood]

Sorrel has to look away at the mention of Sina's name. The ground, the wall, that thing over to the left, anywhere but Fern's sad, eager face. Friends? Perhaps not more than that, but not for lack of feeling. It seemed inadequate.

"What do you think, Sa'asha?" He asks, finally, trying for wry, though it's quiet enough that she of all people will know his difficulty; Sorrel wants this, but he can't do it alone, "It's not as if we'll be giving away ancient artifacts here."

Or giving the Vallaslin, of course. But then, perhaps that's not as far-fetched a thought as it might seem-- as if the Keeper would approve! That's all putting the cart so far before the halla that the halla hasn't even been foaled yet.

[arlathvhen]

It's odd, everyone knowing a secret, but the entire group being able to not say it aloud. For various reasons. Maybe if things had been different. But they weren't, and Beleth prefers polite lies over brutal truths.

When Sorrel speaks to her, she turns to him, contemplative. Of course he can't do it alone, and if he wants to, then she'll be here to help him. As she always is.

"I've said it before, is this not what the Dalish have been called to do? What sense is it to wait until Arlathan to start, after spending years refusing to teach our shared heritage to the rest of our kin."

She turns back to Fern, her smile polite, and welcoming. "We'd be glad to tell you whatever you would like to know. They are your gods as much as they are ours."

[wheretheferngrows]

For a moment Fern peers uncertainly between them, as though trying to decide just how much of her ignorance she's prepared to reveal to them right off the bat. Then, summoning her courage, she goes to perch herself on a seat directly across from them, looking as determined as she does anxious. Change is always frightening, after all.

"Can you tell me about the Creators? About--about what happens after...?" After death, she might say, if she could bring herself to speak the words. Hopefully it will be clear enough from her eyes. (And hopefully Beleth and Sorrel will have better answers for her than poor Jehan did.)

[writteninblood]

"Falon'Din takes them," Sorrel replies, quietly, "In the old days, when Arlathan still stood and none of us ever grew old or died, he would walk with those who slept, give them enlightenment. When we died, he took our spirits, to their place in the Beyond."

He saw, that moment, the freedom, the joy. Wherever Sina went, then, in that bright moment, he was sure that if Falon'din had stretched out His hand, Sina would have put hers in it, and been passed over to somewhere like that. Somewhere beautiful, where nothing could tie her down, or pain her.

"The body is left behind, and we honor it, but the part that was the person, that part walks Falon'Din's path. That's what his name meant; friend to the dead."

He makes a face, something almost like a wince , glancing at Beleth.

"...of course, it's more complicated than that. Thanks to the Dread Wolf."

[arlathvhen]

There's hesitation when Fern brings up Sina, and yet more as Sorrel speaks. Not because Sorrel is wrong, but because she remembers something that Galadriel had told her. About inviting Sina to...somewhere, beyond the shores. Somewhere the Eldar are allowed, and she recalls those final feelings of peace and joy when she spoke to Sina for the last time.

She's deep in thought about it when Sorrel glances at her, and she jerks her head up, almost startled. How would she even go about explaining it, when she barely understood, herself? When it doesn't really...fit into their beliefs. Better not to confuse her.

"Yes, the Dread Wolf. Fen'Harel. He is the trickster god, the one who walked among both the Creators and the Forgotten ones, and each called him one of their own. He took advantage of that, and called a meeting for both groups, where he tricked them, sealing all of them away. Now, we bury our dead with a walking stick, so they can traverse the Fade on their own."