faderift | voices disappear when you were speaking in somber tunes;

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voices disappear when you were speaking in somber tunes; | ota

WHO: Sabriel Abhorsen and you. Yes, you!!
WHAT: Sabriel has a lot on her plate with Warden things, Councillor things, and dumb crush things. She also has a future in making magic boots for said dumb crush and teaching herself how to fight decently with that sword she carries around. Much busy, wow.
WHEN: Early to mid Haring.
WHERE: Skyhold, in varying locales.
NOTES: None at the moment.

1. IN PEACE, VIGILANCE ;

First and foremost, she is a Warden.

Though the Inquisition has absorbed them into their ranks in order to keep them hidden, it's inevitable they congregate, especially when you and your order are prone to sleeping in fits and bursts and not during the late hours of the night when everybody else wanders the Fade (or not, in a dwarf's case). Sabriel doesn't know where they are, but she's easy enough to find should they look, at her regular haunts and not at her bedroll, anywhere with a fire and a potentially promising distraction, such as writing, or tea, or companionship.

Sometimes, it's during normal hours she seeks them out with news (there is none), or worries (what will the scouts find at the Western Approach?), or packages (possibly of socks).

Throughout her wanderings, she also makes a point of seeking out Zevran Arainai.

2. A COUNCILLOR OF MAGI ;

Acting as liaison between the Council and her Warden brothers had been something Sabriel had expected in those early gatherings about what the mages should do about their Skyhold presence, but she had not expected in those early days to become a Councillor. Still, Sabriel took this new responsibility seriously, and it was a familiar sort of routine in that she was used to listening to the troubles of a young mage and resolving it best she could. Of course, that was in a Circle. Here, outside in the real world, it was far different, and the suggestion of recess by her peers had occurred far too many times for her to count. Progress was slow, and near non-existant, but with their move to the Vault as a permenant meeting place, perhaps the Council of Magi would begin to move forward as more than just an idea.

This new role doesn't cloud the fact she's a Warden, but it does mark her as more approachable throughout Skyhold, whether it be in the library and reading or research, or for study of poultices or spells, or practice out in the courtyard, or for that mid afternoon snack you just can't wait for and you find Sabriel down in the kitchens eating another sandwich. After meetings and discussions, Sabriel is slow to leave. Perhaps it is she that approaches you, or you approach her, out past the kitchens or up the stairs to the hall.

3. ENCHANTMENT? OR, ETERNALLY WARM BOOTS ;

She had promised magic boots to Scipio, and she would deliver. The problem? That it seemed the only way forward was through enchantment, as spellwork failed. Truly, she had been through too many pairs of cast off boots... and received a few odd looks from the quartermaster as he sent them her way, only for them to return as cinders. No, what she needed, and what every book suggested and she'd railed against, was a dwarven expert, or a Tranquil.

Both had been lacking... up until she had returned from the mire, when two tranquil arrived with the templar Nevra.

It would gain her boots, and would give the Tranquil routine. She sat with them, assisted as she could with the latest mire-soiled pair of boots she'd received, and the Tranquil did not bat an eye lid, but continued work. She was careful with them, overly considerate... Sabriel was not scared of the Tranquil, exactly, but she was concerned she asked too much of them as they would not say no, could not help her mind wandering and wondering at the horror of losing all emotion.

But today, as the tranquil watched, there was progress. The boots did not burn. At least, not for a few seconds.

"Almost," she sighed.

The Tranquil she worked with blinked. Perhaps they would have been disappointed, but instead, they only turned to Sabriel, and the pile of waiting boots that would soon become more dust in the wind. "Is there another rune you wish for us to try?"

And so the enchanting continued.

4. MAGE SEEKING TEMPLARS FOR FIGHTING LESSONS ;

They had laughed the first time she had asked.

Sabriel was a regular attender of training sessions out in the training arena, if only in that she watched from a distance. Where the Templars hadn't known her as a mage when she first appeared, now they did. It took her a few visits to ask, as before in the tower, it had been something to keep a secret, that she wielded a sword instead of a staff, but now... now, she really did feel she should know how to use it beyond what she could mimic. Training seemed the obvious way forward, and who better to teach her than those who understood her lack of physical strength?

But they laughed. It was not unkind laughter, but disbelieving. A mage wanting to wield a sword and to train with them? What a strange mage. And with that thought in mind, she could not train with them, and no one volunteered to take her under her wing.

That did not deter Sabriel, however. Today, she was back again, and she would ask until she got a yes. And maybe if she didn't, she'd join the exercise anyway.

5. LET'S DO SOMETHING ELSE!

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Between the headache of arguing against required Harrowings -afterward staring daggers at Daylen the entire time- and her eyes glazing over as the minutiae of uniforms was discussed for far too long, Korrin's relieved to see the meeting end. And she's also relieved to be free from it for a few weeks, on the verge of being sent elsewhere. As long as it's not the mire and she isn't required to deal with mage politics, two things she hasn't been able to escape lately, Korrin can deal.

After the meeting, she approaches Sabriel, who's been on her mind lately. They haven't had a chance to talk after that conversation in the mire, and she's been worried about her friend. So as they depart, she falls into step alongside her. "Is it just me or are we making progress? If slightly less shouting, tea breaks and headaches count. Though I still need something stronger to take the edge off."

"Oh jesus christ," he hisses in surprise when the boots on the table he was passing buy light on fire. "What the fuck are you doing wasting perfectly good boots," he assumes, he doesn't know what they looked like specifically before they were ashes, "lighting them on fire? There's wood for that, you know!" He huffs a little, shaking his head. "Gonna give a guy a heart attack," Church adds in a mutter to himself.

Ellana tries to get to the library once a day in order to peruse the books there. She's been reading fast, and the collection of books has been helping her a lot since her arrival. While she's still woefully uneducated on plenty of things out in the greater world, she's been making headway as she learns about history and culture. But even as she reads, she keeps in mind that this is just one side of the story. It's most evident whenever elves are mentioned -- albeit briefly -- and something disparaging is said. The Dalish have their own stories that contradict what she's reading here. It makes her wonder if the truth isn't somewhere in between, but that's not something she'd voice to either elves or humans. Like with most things, she keeps her opinions to herself.

Except here is Sabriel in the library today, and she's witnessed Ellana making her opinions known at the meeting. True, she didn't say much, but after stating a preference for leggings and boots to be part of the uniform, she sat back and marveled at the fact that people were arguing about stupid uniforms for so long when there were mages in Skyhold who needed their help. Approaching the table where Sabriel is sat, Ellana smiles.

"Hello. Reading for pleasure or studying? I don't want to bother you, in either case."

Sabriel had been particularly quiet on both fronts - she already had a uniform to a cause far greater than just herself, and though she felt something for official occasions would be best, she saw the pros of having one all the time. And the cons. The same for Harrowings; there was a merit to them, but even as the argument droned on and on about strength of will and necessity and that it was unnecessary and what not, she was thinking back to her own, and how, even with her skill and aptitude for magic, she quite easily would have died if she had not kept her wits about her. Just where was Mogget now? Not dead, for certain.

She seems tired when she moves to leave, but then, she often does look tired, these days. "I'm surprised a break to the tavern wasn't made as a suggestion after the third time," Sabriel half-smiles. She wouldn't be surprised if most of the Councillors would be heading there. "And we're certainly in agreement about what we all disagree about, if that counts as progress."

Of all the things for everyone to be so opinionated on, it would be the uniforms. Sabriel had to wonder if Grey Wardens ever had that problem when they first became an organisation, or if it was just a mage thing, because armour was easier than robes.

"Both," Sabriel says, looking up as Ellana approaches. Pleasure as it gives her something to do and distract her mind from other things, and studying to keep her mind sharp. "And it's no bother. I always welcome company."

Sabriel looks over as he speaks. He's not the first to regard the entire exercise with a look and a muttering, but he's the first to be so vocal about it (and invoke deities she doesn't know about).

"The intention is not to light them on fire," she says, firmly. "And they were not wasted. They were-" she pauses as the Tranquil tugs at her sleeve, pointing at a rune in the book they were both looking for from her notes. "Yes, that one, thank you-- the boots were to be disposed of anyway, after the mire. Until this is perfected, I wouldn't use any other."

Korrin laughs weakly at that, shrugging. "Sure, why not? Nothing quite compares to the disaster of that first meeting, so my standards aren't terribly high right now. As long as the Loyalists think twice about attempting to trample all over me and my freedom, I'll take what I can get."

She sighs, though, hating that her standards have fallen so low and that she got ensared in politics in the first place. "Well, I'm suggesting it now for the two of us. Let me buy you a round before I'm off to Emprise du Lion for a while and hence free of this." Unless they get the brilliant/awful idea to do sending crystal meetings, but Korrin refuses to be the one to suggest that.

"Okay..." He sounds uncertain that that's what's really going on. How should he know what kind of crazy rituals or whatever these people might have? "Okay. Then what's the intention if it's not spontaneous boot bonfire?"

"No one has run each other out of Skyhold yet," Sabriel points out. "That's something." Unless scouting missions count for extended recess, but it could be worse. You could be branded a traitor and end up on the run through Orlais. Could be worse. "Talking is what we need, though, or else we'll never understand one another. As long as no hard and fast decisions are made, I think all the Councillors are wise enough not to do anything hasty."

She considers the offer, because tavern going is usually not what she does with her time. To most, she would say no, or go, but not drink, but for Korrin... "I wouldn't say no to wine to celebrate your impending freedom."

"Skyhold isn't exactly warm. My socks keep disappearing, but that- the point is, if your boots could be warm all the time and you didn't have to suffer the cold? If that were possible?"

Sabriel pauses. "If I could do this for a friend, I would."

"...Shit, I'd do it for myself if I could; that sounds like magic."

He eyes the...quiet, unnaturally calm people working on those stone things. "I mean uh. Y'know. In the metaphorical sense rather than the literal. But also literal. I'm too used to not having to think about shit like this. Or being too hot." Or having the weird almost-memory of being too hot but not...actually being. God he's going to keep giving himself headaches if he thinks about it. "You think fire-based stuff's the way to go?"

"I'm glad to hear it," Ellana says. "I get the feeling Grey Wardens are much more open to the company of elves than most other people." At least that's been her experience so far. Wardens were dutiful, they protected people, they saved the world again and again. And they were made up of people from all walks of life.

"Wine, it is. Don't worry, I don't pressure you to drink any of that care package I received. Most of it's gone by now, anyway, though that's not my doing. I guess people were really eager to prove how much of that they could handle, or they just wanted to punish themselves." Either way, whatever's left is for Taas and Kas, who ought to be able to handle it.

"And good, I know we haven't had much time to catch up since the mire. I've wanted to fix that." Yes, it's her not-subtle way of asking how Sabriel's doing after what happened there. She's tried to give her space, but maybe now in better surroundings, a little prodding will be alright.

"I doubt I could tolerate it. A sip to be polite, if necessary, but otherwise?" She's never been one to drink, not even now, and never in excess. There was this one time in the Circle where she and her fellow apprentices did find that bottle of... she can't even remember what, but what she did know was that she never wanted to be so not in control of herself ever again.

Ah, yes, the mire. To the point as always. "Skyhold is a preferable surrounding. Just the usual to contend with, rather than the dead..." she pauses. "I'm fine enough, I think."

"To be a Warden, it doesn't matter what, or who, you are. Only that you have potential to save the world, or otherwise." The or otherwise was for Scipio and Rafael, in particular, though she doesn't doubt they could do something about the world if they put their minds to it. They might have to steal all the socks in Skyhold to do it, but they could. "But it can depend on the individual, too. I grew up with dwarves and the Vashoth they hired to protect them, met elves in and out of the Circle. I have no quarrel with anyone, human or no."

Unless they incite it, but talks before fights. Still, everyone is a person, and to Sabriel, it matters not what race they are.

She suspected with that deity comment, but now she's certain he's someone from the rifts. She doesn't flee or call for help or anything like that, but there's a caution that settles over her, of someone not scared, but troubled. It's really not about the people who came from them, but about rifts, and what the Fade actually is, and death, and- so many belief questions that give her a headache.

She's peaceable and helpful in her response, though, as she would be to anyone she was explaining the idea to who knew very little of magical theory. "It's based on runes. Some are debilitating, which aren't useful, and the rest on the elements... ice, storms, fire. But most fire runes are designed to burn and ignite than to warm. I've been reluctant to try a combination."

Because the Tranquil would do it without complaint and whilst she had a handle over fire magic and could stem it, if need be, ice, not so much. She'd rather not have them freeze under her watch.

"Truly? It sounds like you've led an eventful life already." And Ellana wants to hear all about it. She adores learning about people who have lived a different life from her, who spent all her time around the same small group of people. It wasn't even like a village. It was like being stuck inside one house that no one ever visited. Now the world is spread out before her and she is seizing the opportunity to learn about it.

She gestures to the seat across from Sabriel. "May I?"

There's enough of a shift, despite her tone, that he notices. Doesn't comment on it. She isn't the first to be the least bit wary about Rifters. He's really starting to resent the name, but hey, unless he decides to wear thick gloves all the time (and with winter happening, hey, not exactly out of the question), even just a wave hello is going to tip people off. So whatever. Can't do much about it.

"If fire's giving you a hard time, maybe you want to try something with electricity? Uh...storms and lightning, I guess?" Church shrugs, because he knows fuck all about 'magic', but if boots keep going up in smoke... Look, the armor he's used to kept temperatures pretty well, and all of that's digital and electronic. Gotta be something there, right? "Something about running a current through the boots without shocking the person wearing them, just like you don't want to roast them alive and serve up charred feet for dinner."

"Nah, you don't just 'sip' that stuff. It'll ambush you anyway, that's what it's made for." Qunari liquor is not about relaxation and savoring, it's a test in endurance, and bragging rights afterward. At least that's all Korrin's ever seen from it.

And yes, she's as blunt as ever. Her gaze lingers on Sabriel as they walk, not openly doubting her claim but still wanting to give her a chance to expand on that. "Getting out of that mess had to help, but I know it can stick with you, too. I'm fine with distracting, if that's what you need, but you don't have to feel like you can't talk about it either."

Sabriel walks in silence a few steps. She is, for all intents and purposes, fine, but she considers past it, at least, in this moment.

It's not that she doesn't not want to talk about it, because she would if she must. But perhaps that was it; must. She was not in the mire anymore, and so it did not have to effect her, and she had compartmentalised the memory. Pushed it away to the corner of her mind where she would pick it apart and think it over another time, or it troubled her when she was meant to be sleeping, because that was how she stayed strong, remained self-sufficient, kept going forward. It was something she had done ever sine she took her first steps out of the tower to become the Warden she had been told she would be.

Sabriel exhales. "Right now it does not hurt," she allows. "If I need to, I will. I know you will always listen, Korrin. You always have, even when we were children."

"Storm magic can be the hardest to control," Sabriel sighs, running a hand over her face even as she thinks it over. Then again, that could be said of all magic, storm was just the mostly aptly named.

But at this point, all ideas are welcomed. She wrangles the concept. "Lightning can restrict, bind, burn if so desired... but how would it work with keeping someone warm?"

Eventful is one way of putting it. "But not necessarily interesting," she says with half a smile. Perhaps her life could be exciting and full of different things, but then, she has no real comparison.

She raises her hands to point towards the chair in welcome. "Of course. You're quite welcome."

"Okay, so hear me out, 'kay, if someone gets struck by lightning," he starts, moving over toward the table and making emphatic motions to demonstrate, trying to put things in terms someone medieval might understand, "then they get burned, or if a strike happens in a dried out field, you get a fire. If you've got something that contains that power without letting it touch something or someone very conductive, maybe that can generate heat. Like a lightbulb that gets hot when you leave it--uh, I mean, I guess you don't have lightbulbs yet either..."

Taking a seat, Ellana can't help but exhale a soft laugh.

"Maybe not interesting to you, but I've been finding everyone here has a story or two in them and I've been enjoying getting to know people. Do you mind if I ask how you came to be around dwarves?"

That brings out a small, wry smile from Korrin. "You could always get that out of me, no matter how little I listened to anyone else. I'd like to think I've gotten better, though how much is up for debate." Stubborn is still a defining trait, as seen in those meetings. But there are times when even Daylen has said something worth thinking over, though not often.

"You still look tired, though. It's still the Calling, isn't it? I've been talking to Adelaide about a mixture that might help the Grey Wardens rest more deeply. Can't say how well it'll work, but it could be worth trying."

Well, if Ellana wants to hear it, she doesn't mind sharing the most important bits. Her pre-Circle life hardly has a lot of secrets in it, and she isn't wrong about everyone having stories to tell; Scipio had said much the same before.

"Tell me to stop if it does," she advises, but continues on, "circumstance, mostly. Like me, my father was a Warden. He was travelling home with my mother from Ghislain to Hunter Fell, and he saved a caravan of merchants from an attack from bandits and apostates. The caravanners decided they needed protection, and invited my father along - with me."

"Friends bring out the best in one another," Sabriel says, fondly. Though she quietly admits there would be times when it would be nice if she wasn't so invested in listening and could bluntly refuse an idea as Korrin would and did. Or when arguments became circular and she had to calmly try to unpick it, again.

"It is," she agrees, with another sigh, running a hand over her forehead. "Sometimes I feel the last time I truly slept was in the tower. Everything else is the song, or the nightmares." Or talking with Zevran. Tea. Practicing. Distractions that were too many to list. "If Adelaide had any suggestions, I would welcome them, as would the others. We're often the last to retire yet the first to rise."

Sabriel's with him all the way up until he mentions lightbulbs and then, yep, he's lost her. "No," she says warily, but kindly, because he is trying and it is helping. A little. She puzzles it out again, though, because he is correct that lightning can cause fire, but...

"Containment," she says slowly. "Storms can do that on their own if you work it correctly. A field of paralysis that only affects something, or someone, should they step inside it... could that even be accomplished? Perhaps a containment for the fire rune, so it doesn't ignite the object?"

The last part is directed to the Tranquil, who looks at her blankly, and then starts flicking through the book with speed, so clearly they have something in mind or they're attempting to answer that question before giving a no. She'll have to wait on that one.

Korrin's expressions softens, wishing she could take that burden from Sabriel, at least for a few nights. It may be a life she had chosen, but still...no one expected its end to signal so soon. She forces herself not to say that, though, not wanting to further burden her friend.

"Do the senior Wardens have any helpful advice on either? As much as all this is unexpected, I'd think they would have been told more on those subjects." Or not, but Korrin can't quite conceive of the level of secrecy required within the order itself.

"You must have seen some interesting places that way. Merchants can travel far and wide, can't they?" Not that Ellana came across merchants while in the clan. She wasn't allowed out very far to trade.

That he's even able to kind of sort of help at all is, well, pretty spectacular given he knows fuckall about this so-called magic. And their little runes. Like they're fucking Nordic or something.

Maybe he should remember that being polite is a thing people do around here. He hastily offers up his (non-glowing) hand. "Oh, um, I'm Church, by the way. Sorry to interrupt, I guess. Kind of not used to items of clothing spontaneously combusting."

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voices disappear when you were speaking in somber tunes; | ota

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sorry i'm getting to this so late aghhh

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