WHO: Galadriel, Thranduil, Solas, Myrobalan, Merrill, Kitty, Lakshmi, Teren, Marcoulf, Jang, Obi-Wan, and Anders
WHAT: A trip to a perfectly normal Chantry in the middle of nowhere.
WHEN: Current.
WHERE: The Island of Alamar, Ferelden.
NOTES: Current warnings, to be updated: Mild Gore

The Abbey on the White Cliff

Around noon on the fourth day, Brigette and the other sisters gather up the people of the Abbey. Everyone who can walk, who can stand, is urged to join them in the auditorium--the doors at the end of the main hall are thrown open and the people welcomed in. Today Reverend Mother Alvar will be enacting her final miracle and, in the grand tradition of this Abbey, the people are invited to behold and take joy in the sight of it. They are encouraged to be there for the end of the previous Reverend Mother's life, just as they are encouraged to welcome the new Reverend Mother, Luca, as she assumes her new position.

The auditorium is a wide, stepped chamber that drops downward into an open forum and stage. The roof is high and domed and was once constructed of the same grey stone as everything else on the island. It was caved in at some point, destroyed by a falling tree, but it has been patched over with wood and canvas. The extensive scaffolding speaks volumes of how much effort has gone into restoring this room, but all of it stands still and empty in preparation for the ceremony.

Above the center of the stage, in the very middle of the room, visible from all angles, there is a great green tear in the veil--a massive rift cleaves the room in two. It churns sluggishly, ebbing and twisting, muted under the weight of whatever pall hangs across this Abbey. Around the rift there is a golden arch--the wood is carved into flames and swords and papered over in hammered gold leaf. Behind the rift there is a triptych depicting scenes from the Chant and each is lovingly painted and framed in gold.

The room is filled with chaos, but not of the sort one would expect in the shadow of a rift. The people who meander in, the pilgrims who take up the seats near to the stage at the base of the steps, all of them are smiling, all of them are happy, some are weeping tears of joy or remorse, but all of them are entirely unsurprised by the rift's presence. They take no issue lingering near it. Praise is heaped upon the carpenters for their diligence in finishing the arch, songs are sung softly as everyone gathers, and eventually the room is prompted to recite from the Chant as Alvar comes to the center of the stage. She is frail and those who spoke with her earlier will see how she has aged--twenty years in a day, it seems--and she leans heavily on Luca until she moves apart to stand on her own.

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.
From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.
Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.
In my arms lies Eternity.

When she speaks the Chant, for a moment, her voice sounds youthful again--no older than Luca's--but it is fleeting and before the end she is breathless and thin once more.

OOC:

Hey everyone, this is part 2! I will be posting an initial thread for this scene that will be a free for all, but feel free to start a thread beneath the Ceremony Header if you want. Below I will be reposting the updated areas and people links, same as the previous post.

New Top-levels are welcomed, as always, but if you have questions please hit me up.

This section will contain the rest of this plot, unless we skyrocket to too many tags for me to keep them straight.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Merrill has come down in the evening, worried as she is about frightening the patients. With Esmond gone and the extra strangeness in the wake of Alvar's death, the patients need sleep. Some of them may never wake up from it, but sleep is a relief from pain, and rest helps the body heal. Merrill can provide them with sleep, magically induced though it is.

Seeing Anders here is no surprise. She wonders if he will sleep, or if he'll keep a vigil in the infirmary. Merrill comes up beside him, making just enough noise to not startle him, but not enough that she'll disturb any of the others.

"Show me which ones need my help the most," she says, glancing over the injured, the sick.

He's commandeered a chair, stuck it against the wall, and there are a couple of shabby pillows and blankets turned into something that's not comfortable, but it's not uncomfortable either. It means that as patients pass he can at least make sure they're in less pain than otherwise.

Her request gets a blink, and then her meaning sinks in. Anders nods.

"These two especially," he says quietly as he gestures at the two beds closest to the door. All he's been able to do for them is ease the pain a little and it's not enough. It's not even close to enough. "A little rest would be a kindness. If they..."

He trails off, looking at them with heavy eyes. "I don't think they're able to say anything anymore. But if they try to speak, give them an ear. It'll be their last."

He's tired in a way that sleep isn't going to really do much for. But at least he's doing all he can.

"Rest," Merrill advises Anders, even as she straightens to go tend to the patients he's pointed out. If there is nothing more he can do for them, he ought to conserve his energy for the others.

It's some time later when she returns. Merrill had ended up sitting with the patients for some time, softly singing a Dalish lullaby. It's a strange sound in a Chantry, but she thinks it's soothing enough; it had helped her, too, as she let her spell sink in to the people who had nothing to wait for but the end.

She says nothing, just settles down next to Anders. If he's awake, she'll reach for one of his hands to squeeze, reassurance for the both of them.

He detours to another that's stirring fitfully before winding up back in his chair, slumping down and considering getting some sleep. At least he's off his feet. Her hand nests in his, then, and he gives her a small, sad smile.

"There are times I'm not certain how much will be left to save, in the end," he says after a few moments of quiet. "And there are times I'm fairly well convinced that we'll not succeed."

It isn't that he doubts they'll beat Corypheus. It's that he thinks the wrong people keep being saved, the ones who will continue oppression, and his and Merrill's people will find no peace or safety.

"Me too," Merrill whispers, as if giving any louder voice to her doubts will make them real, tangible. She squeezes his hand, nestling a little closer; she's small enough that she doesn't think it'll disturb his nest of chair and blankets.

The Inquisition was an Andrastian thing, after all. Just because mages and elves have been welcomed doesn't mean things will stay that way. One only had to look at the Dales to know that.

"But I don't know what to do about it."

Simple Gifts [Closed] - Part 2

The Abbey on the White Cliff

for anders.

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