WHO: Adalia, Alistair, Freddie, Herian, Loghain, Medicine Seller, Melys, Nathaniel, Notas, Teren. WHAT: Rescuing a king, maybe. WHEN: Early Wintermarch WHERE: An island off Seheron, the Fade NOTES: Violence, disturbing imagery.
He catches her in his arms, though she falls from no discernible height--this young woman who has suffered, who still suffers, who so carefully hid that pain during their brief conversation by the fireside when he found her newly expelled from the rift. He would never have known, he realizes, staring at her face now.
There's blood on his hands from where the talons of her fingers dug into his skin, but he pays it no mind, ignores the ache; it will leave him in time. Instead he sinks down onto whatever it is that must pass for a chair in his place and holds Adalia against his chest. "Shh," he whispers, eyes gone distant, watching another child run beyond the hedge of her mother's rose garden, "shh, I'm here."
What good that had ever done them. What good his presence had ever done anyone who had relied upon him. Tell those words to Cailan's corpse, fetid and lost to the darkspawn long before he could be found and burned.
For long, long moments, all Adalia can do is curl into Loghain's chest and take deep, shaky breaths, trying to chase the ache from her limbs. The last time this had happened, it hadn't hurt — then again, Alacruun was manipulating her dreams then. Maybe if he hadn't meant it as a gift it would have.
Eventually, she sits up, inspecting her hands and neck for scales and talons and anything else that isn't supposed to be there. Satisfied on that count, she reaches back to feel at her shoulder blades — there isn't even so much as a rip in her dress to suggest the trauma that had just occurred. Now she reaches for Loghain's hand, meaning to inspect where she had pierced the skin with her talons.
"I hurt you," she says, her voice soft and slightly raspy from screaming. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I can fix it, if you — I mean, it'd be magic, but I can —"
Better to babble and avert her eyes than deal with whatever awkwardness must be coming. He didn't ask to have her dumped in his lap like this.
It's something of a relief as the girl comes back to herself, even as the rest of him knows that... something... remains amiss, here. Loghain helps her to her feet and gives her shoulders a reassuring squeeze--she's strong, anyone who could endure a nightmare such as that has to be, and he won't have her doubt it for a moment.
"There's no need," he assures her quickly, brushing off her concern for him. "I am far more durable than these old bones would have you believe."
It's meant to be a joke, or as close to a joke as he can get, but his eyes are drawn to the distant shape of the man in the peculiar machine that haunts the distance of this dream. His expression goes peculiarly slack for a moment as he stares, his mind seeing, almost recognizing. There's something...
The joke lands, as much as a joke can at a time like this, and Adalia smiles, at least. She looks up to say something — to thank him, to reassure him that she's fine, to ask how he came here, any and all of the above —
but Loghain's gaze isn't focused on her, and her eyebrows draw together in confusion before she turns around to look for what he's looking at. As soon as she sees it, she realizes she's known it was here all along, she just — overlooked it. Why would she overlook something so foreboding?
She's beginning to understand why no one here trusts the Fade.
"Do you know what that is?" she asks Loghain, looking back to him with a nervous expression.
He realizes with a sudden, aching certainty, that he knows the withered figure attached to the nightmarish machine in the distance. Loghain makes a noise that is hard to place--not cry, not gasp, just a shaky inhalation, completely unnecessary in this place and yet he cannot stop himself--
He knows where they are, suddenly.
"Maric--" the name bursts out of him, and he steps forward, walking towards the distant figure, but it's like walking towards a distant mountain. He'll never get there, never reach him in time, it's already far too late--
Maric — that name sparks recognition in Adalia, and her eyes widen as she remembers: Maric is the entire reason they're here. They have to rescue him, so Alistair can have the reunion with his father she's never going to have. Someone should get a happy ending, and she was going to make sure it would be Alistair.
But this is a dream, and people aren't supposed to be able to be physically in the Fade, which means —
"Loghain, I don't think he's real..."
It feels cruel to say, after his reaction to realizing who it was, but — he should know, right? She can't let him get pulled into this the way she had been. Adalia can still feel her skin crawling, like scales are just waiting beneath the surface, but as long as she remembers this is a dream she can control it. Loghain can't forget — who will remind her?
"You said it yourself, this is a dream. Right? He can't be here."
He doesn't stop walking towards that distant shape, but something in her voice makes his steps stumble, causes him to dart a look back at her with creased brows and clear incomprehension in his eyes. "What?" He doesn't say the word so much as mouth it, before his eyes are drawn back to that shape.
"I can't leave him," he says, the words coming out of him like bits of broken glass. "Not again. You can't know, you can't know how I searched, how close I came. I have to go."
Already with each step he takes, he's seems to be stepping out of her dream and into--something else. Soon, he will be gone from view completely.
Oh, if her heart could break any further — Adalia steps forward, then stops, nervously glancing around herself. She can't just let him go, right? If he leaves, he'll be stuck in a dream, and she'll fall back into hers. He has to stay here.
But it's so cruel to keep him from Maric, when he's worked so hard to find him — maybe she could go with him?
Loghain is almost out of sight when Adalia finally makes up her mind. He'll never catch Maric this way, it's all a dream — he'll just keep wandering, getting no closer than he started. For his own good and hers, she has to keep him here.
Adalia runs forward, extending her hand as though cracking a whip. A lash of lightning appears in the air in front of her, and she cracks it again, reaching for Loghain. The whip of electricity curls around his waist and she pulls backward with all her might, trying to drag him closer.
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There's blood on his hands from where the talons of her fingers dug into his skin, but he pays it no mind, ignores the ache; it will leave him in time. Instead he sinks down onto whatever it is that must pass for a chair in his place and holds Adalia against his chest. "Shh," he whispers, eyes gone distant, watching another child run beyond the hedge of her mother's rose garden, "shh, I'm here."
What good that had ever done them. What good his presence had ever done anyone who had relied upon him. Tell those words to Cailan's corpse, fetid and lost to the darkspawn long before he could be found and burned.
no subject
Eventually, she sits up, inspecting her hands and neck for scales and talons and anything else that isn't supposed to be there. Satisfied on that count, she reaches back to feel at her shoulder blades — there isn't even so much as a rip in her dress to suggest the trauma that had just occurred. Now she reaches for Loghain's hand, meaning to inspect where she had pierced the skin with her talons.
"I hurt you," she says, her voice soft and slightly raspy from screaming. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I can fix it, if you — I mean, it'd be magic, but I can —"
Better to babble and avert her eyes than deal with whatever awkwardness must be coming. He didn't ask to have her dumped in his lap like this.
no subject
"There's no need," he assures her quickly, brushing off her concern for him. "I am far more durable than these old bones would have you believe."
It's meant to be a joke, or as close to a joke as he can get, but his eyes are drawn to the distant shape of the man in the peculiar machine that haunts the distance of this dream. His expression goes peculiarly slack for a moment as he stares, his mind seeing, almost recognizing. There's something...
no subject
but Loghain's gaze isn't focused on her, and her eyebrows draw together in confusion before she turns around to look for what he's looking at. As soon as she sees it, she realizes she's known it was here all along, she just — overlooked it. Why would she overlook something so foreboding?
She's beginning to understand why no one here trusts the Fade.
"Do you know what that is?" she asks Loghain, looking back to him with a nervous expression.
no subject
He realizes with a sudden, aching certainty, that he knows the withered figure attached to the nightmarish machine in the distance. Loghain makes a noise that is hard to place--not cry, not gasp, just a shaky inhalation, completely unnecessary in this place and yet he cannot stop himself--
He knows where they are, suddenly.
"Maric--" the name bursts out of him, and he steps forward, walking towards the distant figure, but it's like walking towards a distant mountain. He'll never get there, never reach him in time, it's already far too late--
no subject
But this is a dream, and people aren't supposed to be able to be physically in the Fade, which means —
"Loghain, I don't think he's real..."
It feels cruel to say, after his reaction to realizing who it was, but — he should know, right? She can't let him get pulled into this the way she had been. Adalia can still feel her skin crawling, like scales are just waiting beneath the surface, but as long as she remembers this is a dream she can control it. Loghain can't forget — who will remind her?
"You said it yourself, this is a dream. Right? He can't be here."
no subject
"I can't leave him," he says, the words coming out of him like bits of broken glass. "Not again. You can't know, you can't know how I searched, how close I came. I have to go."
Already with each step he takes, he's seems to be stepping out of her dream and into--something else. Soon, he will be gone from view completely.
no subject
But it's so cruel to keep him from Maric, when he's worked so hard to find him — maybe she could go with him?
Loghain is almost out of sight when Adalia finally makes up her mind. He'll never catch Maric this way, it's all a dream — he'll just keep wandering, getting no closer than he started. For his own good and hers, she has to keep him here.
Adalia runs forward, extending her hand as though cracking a whip. A lash of lightning appears in the air in front of her, and she cracks it again, reaching for Loghain. The whip of electricity curls around his waist and she pulls backward with all her might, trying to drag him closer.