faderift | A Little Down In The Mouth Pt 2

Fortunately Michel was very Orlesian and having spent well over a year in one of the coldest regions in Thedas he wasn't inconvenienced by notion of taking a dip. It would be chilly, certainly, but all of that Chevalier training taught him to ignore discomforts.

"I agree, having someone with magical proficiency light the way will expedite this ," feet bare and in the undermost layer of his clothing without stripping down to his smallclothes, Michel was ready to move forward, "we should be proceed slowly, I would not recommend staying submerged at length, however."

For a number of reasons...illness, hypothermia, other cold water immersion related difficulties that they would have to face. He edged his way toward the water, testing it before glancing over his shoulder at Elian.

"No more than 30 minutes...we should not be that long, but just in case, you can pull us out, yes?"

To Christine.

"I will not let anything happen." Not that Lady LeBlanc seemed like the sort of woman who looked to anyone for protection.

Speaking of which he turned his attention to the formidable woman in question.

"My Lady?"

Adelaide's offer is enough to open Elian's mouth--he should say he can go, even if only to have her tell him it isn't necessary, or a mage is better suited regardless--but he shuts it again without comment, jaw clenching tight for a second, and casts a glance toward the younger one. She doesn't look happy, either.

"Twenty minutes," he says to Michel, quietly. It's all concern, no disrespect for the chevalier's judgment. Elian trusts him. He doesn't trust the temperature, the corpses, or the mages. Twenty minutes and he'll pull them out. "Try not to swallow any water."

"Light and warmth, Christine. If you could have a fire ready for us when we resurface that would be appreciated. We shall need it." Shoes, kirtle, skirts- down to a thin woolen bodice over her chemise and that shall stay if only to keep her from freezing early. Twenty minutes.

Longer than she'd like, but nowhere near long enough to search the pond properly. The balance of speed and thoroughness will be difficult to manage while chilled to the bone- she has to bite down hard on her lip as she steps into the water proper.

A lady, after all, does not swear.

"After you." A dull glow flickers into being over her hand- something to light their way in the murky water.

Christine nods, but waits until they've gone down into the water, seeing the pair off before she turns and scans the area for kindling.

"If there's anything worth burning that isn't wet through," she grumbles to herself. In her quest, she sets Adelaide's staff down in a safe spot before searching for deadfall. Maybe she'll come across some animal dung too, but Maker, she is using the roll of bandages in her utility pack to pick those up so she doesn't touch any of it.

Michel was of the opinion that at least one mage and one soldier should remain behind, if there was a lack of distrust between Elian and the mages then it wouldn't do to have both mages on land and both soldiers in the water with only the shakiest bonds of trust as their security. Fortunately Michel had a bit more faith in his companions, he was pragmatic in that he believed that their current mission took precedence over his own feelings of which he kept locked airtight.

"Twenty minutes," he acquiesced, splitting hairs was the last thing he wanted to do, instead he waded out into the water taking stock of everything he had to work with. He had his suspicions about what was going on here, but he figured he would do an experiential dive with just the reeds first just to see what was happening. He knew that whatever the Templars were after had to be remarkably deep and they wouldn't be able to get very far like this, but it was a good start.

Nodding to Lady LeBlanc Michel dove in once he was far enough, he was relying on her as his companion through this murky, standing slough.

Edited 2015-12-21 13:26 (UTC)

Elian waits until Michel is gone, and Lady Adelaide after him, to take his eyes away from the water and toward Christine. There's nothing visibly uncomfortable about his posture, only something reserved and watchful. He's been babysitting mages for years.

"If you can sustain a flame on your own for a while we may be able to dry something out," he offers, but he doesn't move to help, yet, busy looking back toward the murky water for signs of life or struggle.

For Christine, she has to stay busy or she'll drive herself mad pacing by the water. And so she collects dead twigs and somewhat dry tufts of grass in the hopes she can get a fire going instead of a smoky mess.

"I can," she answers shortly, though not necessarily because he's a Templar. It could be because she's focusing on the task at hand, because she's an Orlesian and they were born with an attitude, or a bit of all three. Soon enough, she's piling up twigs and grass, her eyes darting nervously towards the water. She has to also gather some kind of fuel to burn, because kindling is useless if there is no fuel to add to it after, as she's learned since leaving the Tower and being labeled a rebel. So she turns back away from their adventurers beneath the water and tries to find anything that isn't wet through.

As luck would have it, when she turns down a nearby path, she finds a broken wagon mostly settled under the boughs of a tree, which has protected it from the rain. It's a simple matter of energizing the wood and soon she's lifting the whole thing back to the campfire spot.

"This should work," she says on her return, pleased that she doesn't have to scrounge around for small, wet bits. She gathers her kindling and moves it to the back of the wagon.

Were the water clear and the temperature warm this would be a great deal simpler. As it is the focus required to light their way is frustratingly more difficult to manage the deeper into the pond they go. Some of the reeds seemed bent off to one side and it is there that she wades- jaw clenched tight against a great deal of swearing she'd rather not let loose in front of one of her student.

Appearances matter.

Merde if it isn't cold.

Michel was trained to endure the most unpleasant things without complaint so it wasn't nearly as difficult for him to become acquainted with the temperature of the water as it was for his companion. He could tell, but she certainly held up nicely given the unpleasantness of her task. What could he say other than he was grateful, there was nothing that would make it anymore pleasant, and he certainly couldn't promise it would get better, but it was important on some level that they discover what the Templars were doing and thus he dove as deeply as he could, only going as far as he could see with Lady LeBlanc to light his way.

She followed, lighting the way as best she's able. It wasn't the clear pond that she was accustomed to; with the chill and the murk and the unsettling sensation that there was something else in the water waiting for them, but they made do. Dove and sought out- something. The light caught on a disturbance in the silt at the bottom of the pond; a hook? A bit of armor?

Michel was careful to keep his pace with his companion as it was important that she remain, not only within sight, but within reach just in case something untoward happened. He had to be able to grab her and pull her back to the surface and she was his guiding light so wandering was not best. Because they were close to one another he saw, for the most part, everything that Lady LeBlanc saw and when the sediment revealed a glimmer of something moderately shiny at the bottom of the pond he glanced at her before swimming down towards it. It could be an object of interest, but that did not mean he was any less cautious about retrieving it as one never knew.

A hook? A grounding hook for a rope- something that they might use to find this spot in particular again. Or an overly large fishing hook to rake the dead from the muck, she couldn't say. Adelaide swam further, sending off a trail of light to the impliment.

As Lady LeBlanc illuminated his path he took advantage propelling himself toward the hook, as the object now revealed itself to be, though he wasn't exactly certain as to what sort of hook or what its purpose might have been. He pulled it out of it's alluvium prison carefully before holding it up to the direct light.

The loop on the end was wide enough for a solid length of rope- the hook on the cauldron had been on the bottom rather than the top- the odd rubbing of the branch above the pond...She motions to Michel to surface and makes her way up there herself, light lingering with him while another trails after her.

Following her train of thought he kicked off from the floor of the pond without complaint. He could use some time out of the water, in spite of how resilient he was and resistant to the cold, he wasn't invulnerable. He knew once they hit the surface it was going to be worse until they were beside the fire and he was right. As soon as he broke the surface he couldn't stop himself from gasping at the shock of the cold air and, with hook in hand, he wasted little time swimming towards the shore, though he was careful in making sure he was aware of his companion's location.

Breaking for air hurt almost as much as diving- but she swallows down every vile oath that springs to mind. Not done yet, far from it, she coughs and calls across the water. "Rope- we need rope and the cauldron- we found it's hook. They were using it to hold air while they remained below."

Christine turns from the burning wagon she's been monitoring, checking to make sure the flames don't die out, to find Adelaide talking about... rope? She glances over at Elian, wondering if he wants her to get it. It's already clear she can energize large objects to move them with ease, since she moved the broken down wagon closer to the water to burn it for warmth. But she would prefer to stay and tend to the fire, so it neither dies out, or goes wild, should an errant wind kick up.

"Shall you or shall I?"

Elian has walked ankle-deep into the water already, prepared to go out after them if either seemed to struggle from the cold, but Michel is making clear progress and Lady LeBlanc is able to speak. He relaxes.

"I'll get it," he says to Christine, giving the others one last check to be sure they're all right, and steps backwards onto dry land.

The cauldron is easy, but rope—he searches his own pack first, in case he packed some without remembering, then looks at the others' belongings. Too polite to go digging, he stands there with the cauldron in both arms and frowns back toward the others.

"Did anyone bring rope?"

Michel might have braved the chill of the pond with a mask of indifference, but that didn't mean he was any less eager to drop into a spot next to the fire and wave Lady LeBlanc over beside him. His first concern, naturally, was his feet and getting them dried as they shouldn't be wet for extended periods of time. The rest he took care of in short order, though drying would take some time it was still good to feel warmth even for the Chevalier.

"Check my pack..." he said shortly, not that he was trying to sound abrupt, but he wanted to keep the chill from creeping into his voice and he knew that would come with extended conversation. Rope was certain to be found in Michel's belongings as he traveled alone most of the time and that required a lot of preparation on his part. When it came to being well supplied against the elements he was a hard-liner.

"I'm concerned, however...are we going to attempt to follow in their foot steps. I cannot imagine this ended well the first time," what with the hook having managed to find its way to the bottom of the pond. He could only speculate about what happened next and it was not a pretty picture, "though I suppose to our credit we have an advantage..."

Christine is relieved she got the fire going in time for them to return, since she would have felt awful if they returned in this state and she had nothing to aid them. She sits down beside Michel, her face all sympathy.

"Would you care for a rejuvenation spell?" she asks gently. "It will ease the ache from your bones." Adelaide she is concerned for too, of course, but she also knows Adelaide can easily heal herself if she feels it's necessary (and knowing her, she probably doesn't).

Adelaide does, in fact, ignore the opportunity to use a rejuvination spell to ease the ache of the cold, instead focusing on wringing out her chemise. "We've people on the shore that might pull us up should anything go wrong, mages to mind the light and currents of the water. Had I more skill in heat and less in ice I might attempt to warm the pond in our immediate area."

But that was not where she was most skilled. "We will warm up, attempt to make use of the cauldron as they had, and see what they were after."

While Elian is rifling through Michel's belongings, he's listening: a worried glance up when Michel mentions a potential bad end, a determined look back down when Christine mentions magic. (Helpful magic, sure, but he doesn't want to watch.) When he's found the rope he comes closer, running the loop of it in circles through his hands to check for rot or weakness.

"Can you tell what went wrong?"

Michel gave Lady LeBlanc a nod, she was right about that, but the Chevalier had seen a lot in his young life, enough to know that if anything can go wrong it will go wrong making him slightly less optimistic. In spite of the fact that they had perfectly capable spotters on the surface and mages aiding them, the Fallow Mire had proven to be less than hospitable and any sort of surprise on the end of their spotters could put them in danger under the water.

At Elian's question Michel ran his hands through his hair before smoothing it back and answering the question, "I've speculations...one of those being that on our next dive we'll find some of friends down there. It might bring us closer to whatever they were after, but the cauldron didn't work out for them...we might get lucky. Either way we should try it."

Christine doesn't think this is a good idea at all. Mostly because Adelaide is one of the people doing it. Her lips are pressed in a firm line, but she collects her thoughts before speaking.

"What makes you think we will succeed where they failed? I think they, at least, must have known what they were looking for. We do not."

"Nothing. But whatever we are able to learn is of that much more help to the Inquisition. What we have now is insufficient." They must return to the water. But perhaps a few extra precautions would be to their benefit. "...Do you have any watertight leather bags?"

Elian's hands find the end of the rope while they're talking, with no overly-soft or unraveled portions in the middle to cause concern, and he lays it on the ground beside Michel for safekeeping. Adelaide's words have him straightening right back up, however, and moving back to their belongings.

"I brought a water bag," he says. "I can empty it."

To carry down extra air, he assumes. Otherwise someone might want to stop him before he dumps fresh water onto the ground.

Michel glanced over at Christine, not saying anything, but offering her a significant look. He wasn't going to allow anything to happen to her mentor if he could help it, upon his honor as a Chevalier. He didn't say as much out loud, but he was aware of himself and what he would do to protect those around them even from themselves. He wouldn't permit risks that were unnecessary, he was a shield, that was part of the Chevalier's duty...and he trusted Elian to be the same.

As the rope was laid beside him and Lady LeBlanc pressed on with the plan he began unwinding the rope, preparing it for what he knew would be the next stage in their plan, "if water bags are sufficient then there should be one as well...as long as we have another vessel to empty the water into...fresh water out here is..."

Well it was a muddy bog and he didn't exactly trust the integrity of the water in their immediate area, boiled or not.

Her look in return is slightly pained, and seems to suggest: "I want to believe you, but..." This is such a dangerous endeavor, and she can do nothing more than voice that she doesn't like it. The others seem fine to continue.

Closing her eyes, she draws in a deep breath and tries to focus on the task at hand, since there is no dissuading them. When it's suggested they need a substitute to hold their water, Christine can only look around helplessly for a moment. She knows of nothing else airtight. But then she looks to Adelaide.

"Could you make a vessel out of ice to hold it in? I know what you make can last a long time."

"Of course." Now isn't the best time to do so, but she extends a hand to Elian, frost spreading from her fingers to form a shell of ice that could hold the water until they were finished. A funneled top, a stopper, feet that it would stand on it's own- all growing in precise curls of ice. Her eyes glow and the pitcher flares blue for a moment before her magic recedes entirely. "That should hold until the end of the day- but I do not think it shall take us quite so long."

If only for the fact that she has no intention to spend so much time in the water.

Something—fear, or distaste, or a combination of the two—flickers onto Elian's face for a moment, when Adelaide's hand reaches out toward him, but it's only a flicker, and the only other sign is the way he waits until she's finished to move any closer and take the vessel.

He empties both his own bag and Michel's into the ice. He may not drink it, after this, unless the only other option is genuine dehydration, but if it makes the others happy—

"If you find this isn't enough, we can come back with a boat and more ways to hold air," he says as he finishes, with a vague, circular hand motion in the air with one of the emptied bags to suggest a cycle of traded containers. Don't drown over this.

For Michel's part he was well aware that beggars couldn't be choosers at this point, for his part this was better that wasting water and being left with...well he did not even want to think of the body count in the bod surrounding him. Perhaps he was a touch pickier than he pretended to be, but everyone had their limits, even someone like the Chevalier...so he really couldn't begrudge Elian his own.

For now he forced himself away from the warmth of the fire so that he might stand beside Lady LeBlanc, bracing himself mentally for their next dive into the icy water, if not physically. Having already been down there once he wasn't quite so eager to find himself down there again...but if the inhabitants before them had been able to persevere then so would he.

"It would not hurt to try it once, just to see where this goes, but if it becomes too complicated...then there's no harm in finding another way," or shame either, if they did not succeed where their predecessors had not they would just have to figure out another way and keep trying. If that meant going back empty handed for a time, then that was better than dying, "ready to get back to work, my Lady, or do you need more time?

This situation has left Christine feeling rather helpless. Yes, she managed to pull together a busted up wagon for a fire, but she's standing on the shore, waiting for whatever they find and hoping they don't get caught on anything down there. Who knows? Perhaps there are corpses down there that will awaken when their resting place is disturbed.

"May the Maker watch over you both," she murmurs, feeling at a loss.

She ignores it. Such displays of fear or loathing or distaste are familiar enough for her not to take it personally- and what does it say of the world that it is something she's come to see as normal?

It does not matter. Finding answers- that matters. Between the four of them getting the rope over the tree limb, the hook tied to the end and that set into the cauldron- it's short work. Attaching reeds to the leather, watertight bags for ease of breathing below, also quickly done. To Christine Adelaide offers a reassuring nod. "I shall send up a flare if we find anything."

Maker willing, they ought. Skirts of her chemise gathered in one hand, cauldron dragging with the other, she nods for Michel to join her in the pond. With the air offered by the cauldron they ought to be able to seek out more without having to swim all the way to the surface- and perhaps manage to see what the templars were after.

Elian almost asks her to send them up at intervals anyway—a sign they're alive, not in trouble—but the aforementioned distaste stays his tongue, on top of his usual reticence and the knowledge that she would be expending limited energy mostly for the sake of his and Christine's peace of mind. He can probably trust them not to let themselves drown.

So he doesn't say anything at all, only nods at Michel in passing to wish him luck while he retreats further onto the bank to set aside the water and stoke the fire.

If the Maker could find a way to keep them dry while under the water that would be very useful indeed...a thought Michel kept to himself, of course, but a valid one nonetheless. And one he was certain he could not be alone in. Regardless he followed dutifully and gathered himself just as Lady LeBlanc gathered her skirts prepared for the chill once again.

Hopefully they would find something of significance this time around.

[ ooc: I need to bow out of this. Please skip me. Christine will just be hanging out in the background. ]

Into the chill and the air offered by the cauldron, the weight offers them some assistance in working their way down to a semi respectable depth. With air it is not quite so horrid, even if she'd rather not have to do this at all, it is what it is. With the light her wisp offers them and the bag and reed- she dove down to seek out whatever it was the Templars had been after. She takes a turn, comes up empty, and swam back up to the cauldron, offering Michel the reed. "I'll send a wisp after you."

A Little Down In The Mouth Pt 2

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Going to branch off here for Adelaide and Michel

again, sorry, the holidays season fuuu

s'awright! No worries.

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aaa sorry guys

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eep this got lost in my spam box for some reason

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