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[dashing]

WHO: Herian, Lakshmi, Yseult
WHAT: If I Could Churneau Back Time assignment
WHEN: Harvestmere
WHERE: Churneau frontlines, Orlais
NOTES: Content warnings, OOC notes, links to other relevant posts, etc.

The situation in Churneau has become more dire, both because of the invasion from the North, and because Mother Riccarda’s shift in a more positive direction for the Inquisition is seen as a betrayal by those in some quarters. While all civilians have been evacuated, Mother Riccarda has remains behind to minister to the troops, lend aid to the sick and injured wherever she can, and look after the Chantry.

The Inquisition has received whispers of a possible attempt on the Mother’s life, which could further destabilise matters and leave Churneau even more vulnerable in this time of war. It would also cost the Inquisition a respected voice that has begun to support their cause.

Time to go be heroes, or make an attempt at it.

Comments

GATHERING INTEL.

[dashing]

No one really talks about how incredibly boring some aspects of missions could be, certainly not Herian. Duty was to be honoured and carried out to the best of one's ability, never mind the chill wind and persistent rain.

With that said; she's been lying in the long grass and mud to look over the troops and making notes on each movement for several hours, and the task would last several more hours, or perhaps days. Despite herself, she sighs, rather more heavily than is perhaps strictly dignified for a diplomat, division head, or knight.

"May my eyes free themselves from their sockets," she mutters, somewhere between mutinous and self-reprimanded, blinking as she tries to focus again. She has sat vigil; she is not a restless child. Focus.

[hassaran]

Somewhere hidden behind the arms folded in front of her, Yseult smiles. She has done this before, and though they've been lying on the ground all but motionless for quite some time in utterly miserable weather, she's yet to begin fidgeting (or sighing). She extricates one gloved finger to push wet hair back and wipe drips of chilly rain from her eyebrows with a knuckle.

"Relax," she tells Herian, but she doesn't mean it in the general sense: "You want soft eyes for this kind of work. You don't need to stare hard at anything, just be passively alert to your whole field of vision. If something happens, movement, you'll spot it, and then you focus."

[shri]

There's a soft hum of agreement to the words, behind her sodden hood, she mimics the same comfortable pose. Resting the way she finds comfortable, one leg tucked underneath her, but half ready to leap at a moments notice where she's sat. It'll take hours to get this misersable chill out of the bones, but that's later. For now -

"If you stare too hard, you'll miss the other details." But moderately sympathetically. "I like to tap, when it's hard to stay still, or I've been in one spot to long. Helps, some."

[dashing]

The rocky outcrop grants them cover to move, to an extent, and at times a little protection from the wind. It makes the potential for their silhouettes being spotted all the lower, but Herian stays lying down out of caution. It's unfortunate that the rocks do so little for the rain, and perhaps this is one of the times her Starkhaven heritage is to her benefit. It was plausible to think that mud and icy slush ran through her veins instead of blood— although as soon as she thinks that she makes a face at the unpleasantness of the image and the sensation it evokes.

She exhales, and tries to make it less of a sigh, and rather quieter. "I bow to your expertise." They were both of them far more experienced than she, and so she closes her eyes for a moment, and opens them again to try and follow their instructions. "That was one thing, with my vigil. The watching and the stillness were not so important as simply... being awake and focused."

Perhaps if she were not instructed by her teacher to sit vigil before she could become a Knight-Enchanter, and had instead been sitting vigil to become a knight in the outside world, watching would have been more important.

On a piece of parchment, she makes notes. That would also be easier without the rain, probably.

[hassaran]

"I go toes to crown and shift each muscle, one at a time," Yseult adds to Lakshmi's tapping, "In this weather the real danger is being too stiff to move when you need to." And it could be a lot more boring; they could each be separate, alone.

"I thought only Seekers stood vigil," she says, after a moment or two, in no hurry, and also careful over how she puts this question, mindful of politeness as much as Herian's position. "Was that unique to your Circle?" Is this some weird kind of Harrowing?

[dashing]

Herian makes a thoughtful sound, and then is quiet for a few moments as she organises her response.

"The Knight-Enchanter who taught me believed that we should push ourselves to uphold as many tests of knighthood as possible, never mind our place in the Circles. Knight-Enchanter Evander taught me that we must observe the knight's code, and be cleansed before we take vigil. We must test ourselves mentally, to show that we had the mental fortitude and patience necessary for the tests to take up the title and prove ourselves worthy of service to the Divine."

A faint smile, barely perceptible. "Not all Knight-Enchanters think it so - I would be hesitant to even consider it a tradition of the White Spire. Another taught by a different Knight-Enchanter would not have to observe those same traditions."

[shri]

Hard not to twitch at the talk of Knights, but at least easier to keep her gaze focused outwards. Galahad would teach something like surely. The sort of knowledge that they would pass down between them - the offhand things she had heard about Percevel from him, about always questioning that he muttered to himself in his fever dreams.

"Solid advice that -" There's a nod of appreciation to Yseult, but answers a moment later to Herian. "Sadly, it's not so grand in these hours. The test comes in not falling asleep." Her chuckle is mild, because tense and long as this is. There is a certain comfortably familiarness to it. "First time I had to do a watch like this, I almost fell over because my leg fell asleep."

[hassaran]

Yseult's shallow nod is a response to Herian and the information she offers. Mages serving the Divine isn't an entirely foreign concept--she's heard of Knight-Enchanters before, and those elite who serve the Divine herself--but has never met one, and the mages she has observed thus far in the Inquisition have not seemed that way inclined, to put it mildly. It's with that in mind that she doesn't follow up right away, uncertain of Lakshmi's politics and disinclined to rock the boat they may need to be sitting in for hours more. Something to circle back to later.

"On one of my first surveillance missions," she says, on Lakshmi's heels, with similar mild amusement, "I misjudged where the subjects would be meeting and ended up twisted to see them. It took hours and I had such a crick in my neck when it was done I couldn't face forward for half a day."

[dashing]

She exhales a quiet breath of laughter. "I'll count myself lucky, then, unless you both devise some means by which to subject me to similar discomfort." The advice is good, though, and she starts to slowly work on tensing and easing her muscles.

Another note in her book, and she double checks the numbers, a frown tugging the corners of her mouth. "Did you count less soldiers on the return?" Or did Herian screw up her counting significantly?

[shri]

She goes silent, watching intently - doing her own count, once, twice, just to make sure. A slow breath.

"... Less. Most definitely less." Reflexively, she moves her weight below herself, just in cause something. Her legs tensing in the readiness if they were needed to move and soon. A slow prowl of little gestures. "Ysuelt?" Waiting for the confirmation for the third to make sure they've both not utterly miscounted.

[hassaran]

"Yes. This captain has a slightly limp. He went east just after we arrived with almost twice as many. They don't appear to have any wounded." So it's not losses from a skirmish while on patrol.

Confirmation given, Yseult turns her head to make sure Herian is taking down a note of this, her mouth thinned into a grim line. "The next patrol heading east left about an hour after this one. If we count how many men they're moving per patrol we may be able to report an estimate of how many they're moving in total and when they'll be ready."

[dashing]

A sound of quiet agreement, as she makes notes of everything, glances to the sky to make a rough estimation of the time. Only some more hours of averages and observations, then. The news, though, was not especially soothing.

"Would that there were some way for us to know when this started," she murmurs, more to herself than to either of them. Knowing how many were already there, what supplies they had access to, would be useful. Quietly, she taps her knuckle against her lip. "If we could get closer we might be able to learn more by listening in."

Too risky, she suspects. And, suffice to say, stealth is not a particular skill of hers.