Player Plot: The Arlathvhen

[writteninblood]

WHO: A big pack of elfs
WHAT: The Arlathvhen
WHEN: Vaguely Solace
WHERE: A Secret Elven Location
NOTES: OOC Plotting post here, and a special thanks to Ema for the header image

In the ordinary course of life, Dalish clans rarely encounter each other. This isolation is a protection; their diaspora is as much of a blessing as is a curse. Only once every decade or so do the Dalish clans all meet together, and their Keepers, the elders and leaders of the People, who are responsible in keeping elven lore and magic alive, will meet together and exchange knowledge in a meeting called the Arlathvhen. During such a time, the clans will recall and record any lore they have relearned since the past meeting, they will exchange goods, people, knowledge, news, and culture, along with reiterating what lore they know already to keep their traditions as accurate and alive as possible.


Today is the day.

Comments

[dirth]

Stupid Veil indeed. Solas' lips twitch, just a little, but he manages to settle his face into something straight and almost professional before his grimace could show. He's well aware of what the Veil has done to Thedas, well aware of the problems it has caused, and he wants to make sure it does not continue to be a problem. It's not quite that easy, however, because it never is, and he shakes his head, shifting to make himself more comfortable.

"I have seen the memories, yes. I have walked endless battlefields where memories echo like ripples on rivers. I have seen the wonders of the world that have been lost to time itself. I have seen what the Dalish could only hope to achieve."

His face settles into a frown, then, deep and tired.

"They forget much and misremember more. Many of their stories are wrong, fabrications that they refuse to hear the truth of."

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Adasse wiggles a little, almost like a puppy before a treat, and his brown eyes widened as he grinned brightly. This - THIS is what he came here for. Something that was more than just the claptrap.

"So what is the truth - or - like - can you tell me something they got wrong?" He asked, hugging his knees a little.

[dirth]

"Elvhanan was the empire and Arlathan its greatest city. A place of magic and beauty, lost to time. The Dalish imagine them to live in trees, with wooden ramps of Dalish aravels."

Solas frowns, sitting up a little straighter. Talking of Arlathvan is always difficult; talking of the People is harder still. There is so much that the Dalish have forgotten or chosen to ignore, and Solas cannot bear to think on it. At least here, for one moment, he will have an influence. Here, someone will listen.

"Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branhces, palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing."

That? That is what was lost.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Adasse looks at Solas, then lets his gaze fix on the horizon. The one thing that Adasse has never had a lack of, is imagination, and he can see all these thing in his mind.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and sighs softly. "...So where do we go from here? We can't get back all of that - as much as we want to. There's got to be another way forward. For all of us."

[dirth]

It's good that there is someone, Solas thinks, willing to listen, to learn. Perhaps he will find a place among the Dalish and spread the truth - being accepted from within is easier, he imagines, than being told by an outsider.

"Learning the true history of the People is a start," Solas admits, quietly. "There may be no true way to return to what once was, but to learn the truth and ignore the fiction? That would be a prize indeed."