faderift | OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

WHO: New Rifters & Inquisition Members
WHAT: A journey south to make new friends and kick some ass
WHEN: Drakonis 15-25
WHERE: Sunless Lands
NOTES: Violence and language assumed. Warn for anyting else. OOC post.

The Sunless Lands are not, in fact, sunless. This time of year there can be as many as eight hours of daylight, some of it blinding where it reflects off of snow and ice that stretches from the southern edge of the Kocari Wilds as far as anyone can see, broken only occasionally by rocky masses of land jutting out of the snow cover or barren tundra peeking out in patches where constant, unforgiving wind has pushed it aside. You'll be traversing this span primarily on foot—there are sleighs, too, pulled by hardy dogs, but they're carrying essential supplies rather than spare people. The only way to get a ride is to successfully feign passing out.

Beyond the dogs, the area isn't devoid of native wildlife: white fennecs hunt rodents underground, and a herd of excessively fluffy wild druffalo is seeking out whatever vegetation it can find. But hunting down a meal or two early and preserving rations for further south would not be a bad idea, because the further south the team travels, the more inhospitable the terrain grows, and the less life can be seen. And sometimes not much of anything can be seen, when clouds roll by and burst with snow thick enough to halt progress entirely for hours.

The nights are cloudy as often as clear, but when they are clear the sky is split by green and purple ribbons of light.

I. THE RESCUE

Two days' journey south, the monotonously icy horizon is broken by something new: smoke rising in interrupted puffs, an intentional signal. Someone is out there. Chances are, it's the rifters, with or without their first group of intended rescuers. But there's no way to be sure. And approaching with caution is wise either way. Rifters have strange powers (and strange personalities), and they've been out here for days now, dealing with demons and Maker knows what else on their own. For all anyone knows, they could be the reason for the rescue team's disappearance. Orders are to approach carefully.

Then, once contact has been made and initial concerns have been allayed, make sure those poor people have something to eat, and try to figure out where their original rescuers disappeared to.

II. THE STORM

After the rifters are recovered, there's still the matter of the red lyrium mine to address. Another two days' journey south will put the group within good range of the mine: not so close as to be seen, but close enough to be able to get there in a couple of hours as needed.

Halfway there, however, in the middle of the day, progress comes to an abrupt half when the darkest clouds yet gather suddenly on the horizon and barrel down on the group, bringing with them a glut of snow that reduces visibility to only a few feet and wind that roars so loudly you have to shout to be heard. Magic can help some with heat, but the storm shows little sign of quickly abating and with hours of deadly cold conditions to deal with, digging in and getting cozy for a few hours might be the most feasible solution for everyone.

III. THE VILLAGE

Shortly before the point everyone is aiming for—one marked by an enormous stone carving of an owl, several times taller than a man, that's inexplicably been left by the ancients in the center of the tundra—something else appears not far to the west. On closer inspection, it turns out to be a circle of low-sitting animal-skin tents pressed down into the snow to protect them from wind, rocky fire pits, and abandoned sleighs. Overall, it's a cross between camp and village indicative of a nomadic group that's staying a while but not forever.

It's empty now, with a coating of snow on most of the structures that indicates it's been at least a few days since anyone was here. Closer inspection reveals personal belongings inside the tents, including toys and clothing belonging to children—and, in many tents, chunks of red lyrium in the center or beneath the skins that form the beds, each piece emanating heat. They probably thought it was safer than fire.

Wherever they went, they don't come back while the Inquisition is there. But the activity does get noticed. A few hours after arrival, enormous white bears apparently moving in a pack come within a hundred yards of the camp and pace at a distance, watching the interlopers with wary interest. Some of them are wearing collars or harnesses decorated in the same style as the tents. For enough food, they may come closer, and they'll turn out to be abnormally tame.

IV. THE BATTLE

The red lyrium mine that Corypheus' followers built when their operations were crippled in Emprise du Lion is nestled in an icy canyon, with massive scaffolding built up the sides of the cliff and too many cages to count, though few of them hold living prisoners anymore. It's a massive operation, but one that's been crippled by its distance from civilization. It's sparsely guarded compared to its size, and other than the cliffs, it has minimal natural protection. The enemy has magic-silencing Templars, enormous behemoths, and a chained white-furred giant, but they are clearly not prepared to be attacked.

Ahead of the onslaught, traps are set and any surviving prisoners are evacuated under cover of darkness. Everyone else sent to fight either creeps down shortly before dawn, rappelling quietly to avoid notice in the dark, or waits at the top for the first surprise strike to provide enough distraction for them to descend more openly. If anyone has been particularly nice to the bears (see above) then it is entirely possible they'll allow themselves to be ridden into battle.

Once their presence is known, their orders are pretty simple. Destroy it all. Leave no one behind and nothing worth returning for.

Fire is a good strategy. Red lyrium doesn't do well in heat.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not leave, but... definitely put some space between them. Adalia doesn't know how to deal with this, her first inclination being get the fuck away, but she can't get away because they're in the middle of a frozen wasteland and also she doesn't want to leave Alacruun alone with a group of people who don't understand the danger he poses. By that same token, she can't afford to piss him off.

It's that thought that has Adalia taking a deep breath, forcing her shoulders to relax.

"I'm sorry, I just — I didn't expect that." Despite the roiling tension of her stomach telling her to STAY FAR AWAY, Adalia takes a step closer to him, wary. "And I don't know what you mean, you've never tried to... kiss me before. You've never had a body to kiss me."

Leave, put some space between them. Whatever it is, he doesn't really like it and it shows in the flicker of discontent that flashes in his eyes. That's not right. She's... over that. Or ought to be. Her words make things a bit clearer in some ways and more confusing in others. The anger gives way to a irritable sort of bewilderment and he settles his hands on his hips, frowning down at her.

"I didn't for a long time - and never even thought about kissing you for that matter - but then I got one. Don't you remember that?"

She should. It's not as if they haven't been traveling together.

"Did the journey through the rift addle your memories?"

Well that's... a sort of hilarious visual. It's impossible to really be angry when Adalia's staring up at a perturbed qunari with its hands on its hips. Maybe that says something about how scary she really finds Alacruun, or about how much she trusts him not to hurt her, who knows, but she's so amused now — the amusement manages to temper a bit of her anger, leaving her bemused and concerned in light of everything he's saying.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, honestly, but..."

The rift changed Charis. He should be able to speak, but he can't, and that's probably due to the rift. Maybe it changed her memories, too?

"It's not... out of the question that the rift could do something like that. The last thing I remember, I had just... Um." A shifty look as she tries to decide how to phrase this — "Rescued that egg. And then I came through the rift. That was about... four months ago? Four months in Thedosian time, anyway."

For the first time probably ever Adalia gets to see Alacruun speechless, eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to process what she's just told him. That incident with the egg was, as far as he's concerned, months ago. Yet here she is telling him that's the last she remembers of him and, more to the point, she's been here for said months. Is that possible? Is the Adalia he's been speaking to in his own realm not really Adalia? Is there something more sinister (than him) at work here? He feels confused and lost and adrift for the first time in a long time and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit.

"That was - that was months ago," he finally manages, trying to control the tone of his voice (and volume), "There must be something else at work here. I haven't gone insane. I wasn't imagining the last few months of my life."

Speechless is a good look on him, honestly. Adalia watches Alacruun digest this knowledge, and he does look... genuinely surprised by it. Also genuinely distraught, and it's not as though she thought it was out of the question that he could really like her, it does sort of lend her toward that idea more than she had been before. This is not distress over having been set back with a valuable pawn, he looks... really upset that she doesn't remember whatever things he does.

"I don't think you were. The rifts can do strange things when they bring people through them, I don't think it's out of the question that they could have manipulated my memory, or done something like that. There's an expert on them with the Inquisition, I can ask him what he thinks happened."

Solas will have some kind of answer, even if he has to do some research before he finds it.

After a moment, and sort of... delicately, Adalia speaks again.

"So... Kissing. That's a thing we do...?"

"I thought it was," Alacruun replies with just a slight hint of distress creeping into his voice. This shouldn't be happening. Everything was going fine, he had it under control, and now it's all starting to come apart. How irritating. At least - well. She's not screaming at him or crying or worse. He frowns, the fingers of one hand tapping against his outer leg as he considers her and how to frame his reply.

"You didn't have any objections, anyway."

Alacruun, stop.

"Well, I'd sure as hell hope I didn't!"

That was not the right thing to say. Of all the things Alacruun could choose to say, that was a bad choice. Adalia glares at him, crossing her arms and turning away from him slightly — as if she needed a reminder that her life is entirely out of her own hands and Alacruun could force her into whatever he wanted, and her be unable to do much more than complain.

Maybe that's an uncharitable thought, but really. He took her soul and her future. There's not a lot else to say.

"Well, we're not going to here. Don't try that again."

Alacruun actually looks hurt for a moment, a flicker of emotion in his eyes that betrays confusion and a deep sense of betrayal. It's not really betrayal, of course. She doesn't remember anything. Doesn't remember the conversations they've had, the decisions they've made. It still hurts and he finds that even someone who's been so isolated can bleed when appropriately pricked. Then it closes off into something cold and a tough haughty.

"Well. I'm not going to force you."

He wants to say something else, but there's a cold sort of anger in him that won't leave. So he buries it. And tries to control himself before he does something he regrets.

"Well."

She's not going to feel bad. He kissed her, and apparently he's been kissing her for a while, which means she was right and he wasn't just after her soul. He's a creepy god of death who wants to make her his... consort, or high-priestess, or something else evil and stupid, and she's not going to feel bad that he looks genuinely upset by her rejection.

"Good."

There is a protracted and awkward pause before Adalia shifts minutely to face Alacruun.

"Do you want warmer clothes? We brought some for all of the new Rifters."

"Warmer clothes would be very welcome. Thank you."

He sounds stiff and uncomfortable and distant and it's because he is. This isn't what he's used to. This isn't what he wants and he's not sure how to get what they had (will have?) back. So he settles for withdrawing. Sulking in his own head.

OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

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