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.
Those voices. She slowly stands, responding to the command in Nate's voice with almost no resistance at all. Grey Warden. That sounds familiar, that's a phrase she knows intimately, but it makes no sense here. Slowly and haltingly, like a wounded street dog scoping out an outstretched hand holding food, she shuffles toward the cell door to see the visitors better. Narrowing her eyes in the low light, she looks between Nathaniel's and Loghain's faces, still very much afraid but at least still here in some capacity. Teren isn't one to have the wool pulled over on her, and never has been.
A little hope leaps in him when she responds. He scarcely dares to breathe wrong, lest her progress be overturned. And it is her progress, not theirs. He cannot keep the concern off his face, though he tries to be stern.
"Grey Warden," Nathaniel says again, still severe but softer than before. "State your name and your rank." Between him and Loghain, something is going right. Switching tactics now is probably unwise.
Whatever is going right, it appears to be largely Nathaniel's doing, and Loghain is loathe to interfere and drive Teren back into the depths of her nightmare. All he can do is watch her and hope that his face registers as someone who... who values her. Who cares for her.
Still hesitant, Teren regards Nate as though trying to puzzle out what he's saying to her. The scared animal in her wants to comply, but another part of her entirely is holding it back on its leash, growing stronger by the minute. She doesn't want to, she realizes. She wants to tell the person giving the command to go fuck himself, and is gradually finding the idea doesn't terrify her. Recognition is slowly seeping into her cadaverous face, and the shift becomes more clear when she suddenly looks at Nate with narrowed eyes. It's not mistrust or fear that she feels: it's stubbornness, and for some reason that seems less likely to result in punishment than it did a minute ago.
A smile breaks across Nathaniel's face when he sees that fight return. That's his Teren, right there. He turns to look at Loghain and gives him a permissive nod.
"Grey Warden," he adds, hoping to really seal the deal, "how do you feel about your well-earned promotion?"
The relieved smile that breaks out across Loghain's face is accompanied by a weak sound that might be a laugh, were the circumstances not so grim. He's never been so relieved to see that black scowl before.
...additionally, if Teren is about to deck him, he edges aside so as to be out of range.
She doesn't deck him. She doesn't look happy, but Nate gets to keep his face for now: everything is too confusing, and she couldn't get a quick enough jab through the limited space allowed by the bars. "I..." she begins, her voice still as raspy as though she hasn't had a drink in months, "...I don't remember coming here." She just Was. She looks down at herself and shudders, folding her bony arms over her upper body and turning away from them in a try for modesty that the shift barely gives. "What have I done?" It made sense before, that nothing had ever happened beyond her cell. But now that Nate and Loghain are here, and she knows them to be real, it means this is a new experience. It means she was arrested again and put back inside. It likely means she'll be executed. 'Promotion.' He'll be happy to see her go.
Nathaniel looks over at Loghain. He's going to be better at this part. He has a...thing, with Teren, something none of the rest of them really have. Instead, he reaches over to finish unlocking the cell door.
Loghain shrugs off his coat, pauses only a moment to consider it; he hasn't worn it since the River Dane, how is it here now, in this place? But it merits little more than another thought.
"Nothing," he assures her, and as soon as Nate gets the door open, he steps into the cell and offers the coat out to Teren, his eyes averted for her sake. "We'll make out way out of here now, just as soon as we..." He trails off, frowning, and looks to Nate, as though there is a thought on the cusp of forming in his mind, some moment of clarify.
Though she hesitates to take it, Teren eventually does, and shivers when the coat is around her shoulders. It's cold in here, and having no padding to deal with it, the warmth of the fabric and residual body heat is a relief. She tugs it closed and looks around at the cell, still shaking and uncertain, but her expression changes when she looks back at Loghain. There's a surge of vulnerability, her eyes watering, emotional rather than helpless as before. Ducking her head, she covers her face with one clawlike hand to hide her tears. They came for her.
Nathaniel's brow furrows. There is pity he feels that she would not appreciate, and discomfort that he himself does not want. For the span of their acquaintanceship, he has desired some reason to excuse her behavior toward him, some cause to raise his estimation of her. He never wanted to think her mean-spirited for no reason because it would mean never winning her over--if not to him, then to some happier way. This? This does not bring him comfort, and he is suddenly ashamed he ever wanted her to suffer so that he would feel better. This is a proud, strong woman brought low, and he would see no one suffer like this.
"We're not here," he says as a peculiar sensation begins, like bubbles going up his spine. "We're in the--"
He looks from Nate's furrowed brows to Teren, holds her gaze and does not think to guard his eyes from her, either. Yes, he came for her; somehow, that certainty seems to be the most natural thing in the world.
He steps forward without thinking to touch her shoulder, to open his arms to her, should she want it. He would not want to cage her, not again, not even to offer her comfort--
Then Nate vanishes, and around him he can feel the dream, the Fade, beginning to melt away.
"Teren," he starts, looking back to her in alarm, and touches her face without thinking.
Even before things went so sour for her, Teren was never much of a hugger; but if ever in her life she needed one, it's now. She welcomes the touch to her shoulder, nearly leaning into it-- but then Nate's gone. "What's happening," she rasps, stepping closer to Loghain as the world shifts around them, becoming somehow more terrifying than her worst nightmare. He touches her face, and when she meets his eyes, there's panic there.
Blackness is converging upon them, shifting and changing the terrain, and all he can see suddenly are her frightened eyes, the way she clutches to him--
So he kisses her. It's quick, it's brief, it's heartfelt--it's all he has time for. "I'll find you," he has time to promise, his forehead against hers.
Nothing about this situation is okay, and Teren feels the horror rising in her; but it's mitigated, however briefly, when Loghain touches his lips to hers. She has just long enough to look surprised before he vanishes, a sufficient distraction to keep her unaware until she does too.
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She slowly stands, responding to the command in Nate's voice with almost no resistance at all. Grey Warden. That sounds familiar, that's a phrase she knows intimately, but it makes no sense here.
Slowly and haltingly, like a wounded street dog scoping out an outstretched hand holding food, she shuffles toward the cell door to see the visitors better. Narrowing her eyes in the low light, she looks between Nathaniel's and Loghain's faces, still very much afraid but at least still here in some capacity. Teren isn't one to have the wool pulled over on her, and never has been.
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"Grey Warden," Nathaniel says again, still severe but softer than before. "State your name and your rank." Between him and Loghain, something is going right. Switching tactics now is probably unwise.
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Recognition is slowly seeping into her cadaverous face, and the shift becomes more clear when she suddenly looks at Nate with narrowed eyes. It's not mistrust or fear that she feels: it's stubbornness, and for some reason that seems less likely to result in punishment than it did a minute ago.
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"Grey Warden," he adds, hoping to really seal the deal, "how do you feel about your well-earned promotion?"
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...additionally, if Teren is about to deck him, he edges aside so as to be out of range.
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"I..." she begins, her voice still as raspy as though she hasn't had a drink in months, "...I don't remember coming here." She just Was. She looks down at herself and shudders, folding her bony arms over her upper body and turning away from them in a try for modesty that the shift barely gives. "What have I done?"
It made sense before, that nothing had ever happened beyond her cell. But now that Nate and Loghain are here, and she knows them to be real, it means this is a new experience. It means she was arrested again and put back inside. It likely means she'll be executed.
'Promotion.' He'll be happy to see her go.
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"Nothing," he assures her, and as soon as Nate gets the door open, he steps into the cell and offers the coat out to Teren, his eyes averted for her sake. "We'll make out way out of here now, just as soon as we..." He trails off, frowning, and looks to Nate, as though there is a thought on the cusp of forming in his mind, some moment of clarify.
"This place," he murmurs, looking around.
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She tugs it closed and looks around at the cell, still shaking and uncertain, but her expression changes when she looks back at Loghain. There's a surge of vulnerability, her eyes watering, emotional rather than helpless as before. Ducking her head, she covers her face with one clawlike hand to hide her tears.
They came for her.
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"We're not here," he says as a peculiar sensation begins, like bubbles going up his spine. "We're in the--"
And suddenly he is gone.
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He steps forward without thinking to touch her shoulder, to open his arms to her, should she want it. He would not want to cage her, not again, not even to offer her comfort--
Then Nate vanishes, and around him he can feel the dream, the Fade, beginning to melt away.
"Teren," he starts, looking back to her in alarm, and touches her face without thinking.
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"What's happening," she rasps, stepping closer to Loghain as the world shifts around them, becoming somehow more terrifying than her worst nightmare. He touches her face, and when she meets his eyes, there's panic there.
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So he kisses her. It's quick, it's brief, it's heartfelt--it's all he has time for. "I'll find you," he has time to promise, his forehead against hers.
Then he, too, is gone.
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