MOD PLOT ↠ NONE TO RETURN

[faderifting]

WHO: All characters signed up to participate in the Battle of Ghislain
WHAT: The Inquisition regroups and heads home
WHEN: Covers the period immediately post-battle (11.28) through the journey back to Kirkwall (11.29-12.1)
WHERE: North of Montfort, Orlais, and on the road to Val Chevin
NOTES: This is Post #2, covering the immediate aftermath of the battle and the journey back to Kirkwall. It's a free-for-all. Post #1 covers the battle itself. More info on the OOC post.

The Inquisition and Orlesian armies eventually limp to a halt along the Imperial Highway north of Montfort, where wide fields and gentle hills offer clear lines of sight and a sparsely equipped fortress provides some shelter and fortification. It's a soundly strategic location—if Ghislain is lost, Montfort is the last major city between the invaders and Val Royeaux—but among the rank and file there may be too much chaos to appreciate it.

For the remainder of the day and well into the night, the fortress and surrounding land are a frenzy of activity. The wounded who were not left on the field must be triaged and tended to with limited supplies, while many healers and surgeons out of commission themselves and the remainder worked to the bone. Scouts, soldiers, and even support staff in sturdy enough condition to keep working may be tasked with assembling camp from the few remaining supplies, taking reports on known casualties or acquired intelligence, or further fortifying the new location. The Orlesian army sends one of its battered cavalry units toward Ghislain to attempt to provide some warning, and from the Inquisition's number a few patrols are sent back toward the battlefield or toward Ghislain, with stern orders not to re-engage, only to watch for signs of pursuit, and to direct any stragglers.

Those who remain in the fortress are in for a long, miserable night, with meager rations and makeshift bedding, if any of either, while the wind shifts directions and grows colder. By morning a number of the wounded have died, but attempts to build a pyre are hampered by the sudden swell of a storm that starts with freezing rain and then transitions to early and unpredicted thick, heavy snow.

For a few hours that morning the two armies attempt business as normal, but it soon becomes clear that the storm is getting stronger, and they risk being snowed in with more people than they can feed. Many, including the Inquisition's Gallows contingent, are ordered to disperse. Many crowd into wagons, with any transportable wounded receiving further attention en route and neighbors hunching close to preserve heat whether they like one another or not, while those able to do so follow on foot or horseback over the rough, flash-frozen highway toward Montfort and then west toward Val Chevin. The storm doesn't abate until they've nearly reached the city, but once there they're able to stop, eat, and spend a few hours indoors thawing out before proceeding home.

Comments

[dirth]

There are other things to worry about for now: his disagreement with Thranduil, the Inquisition's loss and what it might mean for Corypheus' arrogance, the threat of the Venatori and the loss of alliances across Thedas. Thinking of his own plans for the future is not something Solas can ignore, but he knows how to organise things. Nothing can truly be set in motion until Corypheus is truly dealt with, there is no ignoring that.

"I would like." He admits it gently, calmly. It's an honest sentiment too. He could spend hours walking the Fade here, delving into memories and learning more of this version of the world, one that he had helped shape and mould, but his own memories of the battle are still too fresh. He would rather walk with her tonight, freeing his mind from his own memories.

"I am certain. Your company is preferable, vhenan."

[laurenande]

"Then I shall gladly spend my slumber with you," Galadriel tells him and lets out a short, comfortable sigh. It is good to see him, to be with him, and she had not relished the idea of sleeping without his aid. Now it is a variable she shall not need to face and for that she is both relieved and grateful.

"Perhaps we might seek out slumber now, in melda," she suggests and catches herself before she yawns, stifling the motion to a short shifting of her features. "This day is already far longer than it should have been."

[dirth]

He would come to her even if he intended to slip into the Fade to walk dreams and memories, he thinks. The fact that Galadriel might ask for his aid in sleep, that he might do something to comfort her, to offer her support... It would be only right, considering his feelings, considering what she has come to mean to him, considering what she has done for him. He does not have the heart to reject her no more than he has the heart to do anything but offer her his own in return.

"If you wish." Solas' smile is soft and fond for her, already so close there is no disguising her tiredness, her exhaustion. They are both spent: sleep would do them good. "Do you have a tent already?"

[laurenande]

"I do," she answers and leans back, just so, to catch her bearings and determine where it is. It takes a moment of staring at the haphazard grey camp but she determines their destination eventually. Her smile takes on just a hint of longsuffering and then apology as she turns it back to him.

"It is a bit of a walk, I fear, but I do enjoy walking with you."

She makes to stand, then, and briefly feels her great age in the stiffness that has settled over her.

[dirth]

Solas' gaze follows her own and he watches, searching out the camp. He thinks that he suspects which one might be hers, but he will allow her to guide him anyway. There's no hesitation to him as he rises to his feet, not concerned with the inches of height she has on him. It has never been an issue, and he can look at her with fondness no matter how much taller she might be.

"I can manage a walk to a tent, vhenan. Lead the way."

Carefully, so as not to insult or make any unkind suggestion, he offers his arm.