faderift | (no subject)

She recognized him by the hat. But recognizing something and feeling comfortable with it were two very different things. And when he appeared in front of her, the spike of fear wasn't so much at him materializing. Elves did that in Valeria all the time. It was that, as far as she knew, he was the only person in Skyhold who knew.

Who knew that she was dangerous.

Ariadne had gone about the place as best she could, given the circumstances. She'd managed to make herself useful here and there, whether it was cleaning up blood in the healers' tents or fetching and carrying wood. And of course, playing her flute for the children.

To all appearances, she was completely innocuous.

But Cole knew better. Cole had seen her talons. And seen her rip through a demon like tissue paper. And after going so long without seeing him, she'd sort of hoped it would all be forgotten.

Evidently not.

"Alive," she said, eyes going so wide that the whites could be seen all around the gray. "Yes."

"If it breaks again, it might not come back." Or it might not be strong enough. Was it, even now? So many things were still uncertain.

She was scared of him. Like a lot of people were, and yet not. Not because of what he was.

"You're Ariadne." They hadn't had time for names before. By now, it was easy enough to find out. "I'm Cole."

Edited 2015-12-08 18:58 (UTC)

The way he spoke reminded her of River. Which reminded her of home and her own people. It was strange, trying to adjust to those patterns again. Like easing into cold water. Ariadne had been trained far too long and too hard on the right way to use humanoid language.

Still. It was nice to do away with certain pleasantries. She appreciated not having to tell him it was a pleasure to see him again and oh, how did he know her name?

None of that matter.

She dipped into a small curtsy, belying her power. "You can call me 'Airy' if you like. Everyone else does."

"Airy," he repeated, trying out the name, hearing it and everything it meant. "Flying and flitting, slipping and shifting, a wind between the walls. The music makes their eyes light up."

He smiled at her from under the hat. "It's a different name. A nicer name. It makes you lighter, so they don't have to see."

The nickname wasn't her invention, exactly. But it was well-placed. Ariadne had all of those qualities. And a tendency to rub off on people, much to their annoyance. Even Aunt Lysia wasn't immune to her charms. And Lysia, more than anyone else, knew the real Ariadne.

That Cole talked like he did too was unnerving. A pity his scent wasn't Alastrian. It would have explained so much.

"Coal is fire and brimstone and hardness," she replied. "I'm not sure it suits you."

"Coal keeps the house warm, and softens when it burns." Just saying. Although...

"I don't burn. Though sometimes I help with the fires."

She'd never thought about it that way before. Of course, Alastrians didn't use coal to keep warm. Or to power machines of any kind. Home and hearth meant something different.

It didn't matter though. She was much happier to talk about him than her.

"How do you help fires?" she asked.

"By adding wood?" How else would one help a fire? "I'm not a mage. I can hear the songs, but I can't conjure them."

"Oh."

She was genuinely surprised. The way he talked and moved and did things, she would have guessed there was magic involved. Not something as simple and tangible as wood.

Once again, she scolded herself forgetting that looks could decide. And she wasn't the only one who wasn't what she looked like. It was a rough transition, going from the one with secrets to being surrounded by things she didn't quite understand.

But she was learning. And fast.

"Songs are magic? I've never heard it quite like that before. It's very pretty."

"Sometimes." Sometimes it was pretty. Sometimes it wasn't at all. Sometimes it hummed and screamed and tried to tear you apart from the inside.

But he hadn't encountered something like that for a long time.

"Sometimes it's more music, and sometimes it's shining. A shard of glimmering light. A beacon that calls not to home, but to help."

He was very clearly looking at her hand.

She uncurled her fingers, like the petals of a bud, looking down at the shard in her skin. It was ironically the only part of her that remained green. So it was hard to resent the shard too much.

But she was afraid of it.

Very, very much afraid.

"I wish someone could tell me more about this," she admitted. "Everyone just guesses. Or quickly changes the subject. Or walks away from me."

He frowned softly at that. Sympathy. Concern. What was Solas waiting for? What was keeping him away?

"They all thought it meant something. Then She died." Surely Airy had to have heard about the Herald.

Ariadne nodded slightly. "And some people have been telling me that this is what killed her," she added, nodding down to her hand.

The prospect of death didn't bother Ariadne too much. She knew that everyone's days were numbered. And she felt secure in the knowledge that there was something that lay beyond death.

But the thought of dying a meaningless death? That part scared her.

"It happened when She closed the Breach. She died saving everyone." From the largest threat, anyway. There were still smaller Rifts everywhere.

"They thought She was..." He struggled, slightly, to find the right word. "...divine. Sent by Andraste. I don't know about that. The only light I saw was Hers. Now people are starting to see what they thought might not be true. Before, it didn't matter. Now it does."

And that had all been a bit rambling, hadn't it? "I don't really understand," he confessed.

Edited 2015-12-09 20:44 (UTC)

There was much to be said for someone who admitted that they didn't know something. It was far better than what Ariadne was used to, to hearing people make up explanations just to avoid sounding foolish.

It always made them sound more foolish, in the end.

"I'm not divine," she told him. "Not even a little bit. If that helps you any."

"It doesn't." Not him. "But it's all right. It doesn't hurt, either."

As for everyone else... "It's going to be hard for the others. Most of the things that fall out of Rifts are demons."

That word. Humanoid languages, especially Common, were unbelievably imprecise. What was a demon? Someone who didn't look like the person talking. It was irritating.

And that was back home.

"I don't know what that word means here," she said carefully.

Some time ago, he wouldn't have been able to explain it himself. He's learned since, things about himself and the world beyond.

"They don't mean to become demons. They want to see the world, but coming through makes them wrong. They touch it, and it twists them."

Edited 2015-12-14 03:05 (UTC)

"The Rift changes you." That's what River told Ariadne. And it was acceptable, somehow, to believe that such a rift was capable of changing the color of her skin.

But the thought of it leaving a mark on her soul...

"...changes us."

"I don't understand everything about how it works. It isn't always the same." Spirits, certainly, often came through in similar ways — he knew he was an exception — but she wasn't a spirit. Nor was she a demon.

Not a demon like that, anyway.

"The words mean different things." Demon and demon. "The sound is the same, but the songs... they don't touch one another." It was hard to tell things about her, to hear the scraps of the world that trailed behind her. But it wasn't impossible. "You were born what you are. That's the first difference."

Edited 2015-12-14 04:56 (UTC)

A muscled twitched in her jaw, but that was all for a moment. Ariadne wasn't used to being on this side of the conversation. She was the one who knew everyone's secrets and occasionally surprised them. This was strange and different.

Which, she supposed, wasn't bad. Maybe she was due for a taste of her own medicine.

But she couldn't help but fear for her life. At least a little.

Protectively, she hugged her braid. "I'm not...what I was born as, exactly. Not any more."

"But you were born." That was really the point. "You're real. Spirits and demons aren't. We're not born — we become. Real things aren't meant to enter the Fade unless they're dreaming, or they're mages. That's why She was special. You are, too."

Edited 2015-12-14 15:50 (UTC)

Ariadne raised her chin slightly. Not to be haughty or defiant. But to catch his scent. She'd been near him before, but in the heat of battle, and the confusion of arriving, she hadn't really analyzed it as best she could.

Unsurprisingly, it wasn't entirely familiar. Human, in a way. But with a smell of ozone that wasn't natural to humanoid bodies.

"Which are you?" she asked.

"In the Circle, they said 'demon.'" He wasn't as hesitant to admit it as he might have been with others. But then, she'd had the word flung in her direction herself — even if it was the other one. "But I'd like to be a spirit. I think I can be. I try to help."

So demons were monsters and spirits helped. Perhaps Ariadne would start calling herself a 'spirit.' She liked the way it sounded, anyway. And strangely reminded her of her mother, who'd always chastised her for having too much spirit, as a child.

She nodded slightly, unfazed and unafraid. "Well, you're helping me," she pointed out. "So if that's what it takes to be a spirit, I guess that's what you are."