faderift | [ CLOSED ] A general collision with all that stands as such

She can let go a little in the healing tents. Where the work is familiar and the poultices that need grinding are many. With the garden ravaged by the attack they must be more efficient with their limited supplies until more sources of Elfroot and dawn's lotus are secured. As such every trick she's picked up from the workshops, everything she's learned herself from others to make the potions more potent she employs.

The work is repetitive and soothing in it's tedium. Perhaps enough to set her mind at ease.

Why, exactly, she's been summoned Adelaide can't say. They handled the situation as best as possible given the time and tools at hand, many were injured, a few were lost, damage was done- they came out of it well enough. Nevermind that Cullen had been scuffed and singed for all his foolhardy heroism, nevermind that her back is still tense and her skin still aches when she's too close to a fire. They fought, they won. What more is there to discuss?

She comes as she's called, cloak tucked about her shoulders, head held high, lips pressed thin. "You sent for me, Commander?"

Sina was dealing with the dual blow of being in pain and having had her work destroyed in the gardens, and convalescing in the healing tents wasn't doing much for her mood. On a warmish afternoon, when she was feeling a bit stronger, she peered out of the tent flap to see Adelaide sitting nearby and working on poultices.
Ensuring that she wore a robe to avoid a scolding, Sina padded out to sit next to her, tucking her feet up on the chair so she could cover them with the robe. Like most elves, she didn't mind being barefoot, but they did get cold when she wasn't walking.

Without wanting to disturb the woman, Sina simply rested her chin on her knees and watched her quietly, waiting for Adelaide to speak if she felt like it. Otherwise, she was happy to be a calm presence in a companionable silence.

Normally no matter the stresses of the day nor frustrations of the Council, Adelaide is able to set them aside to keep pleasant and proper company to a man in need of some casual contact. Felix's health continues to fail but he continues to keep if not an optimistic outlook- a kind one. There are days when she does nothing but discuss literature with him and days where they simply converse. Now and then she can be coaxed into singing. Today, however, even with her hand in his and her attention wholly focused not only on the spell soothing his pain but his words as well, some of that tense, cool civility remains.

A shell of ice over an otherwise torrid lake.

Felix notices that ice and frets a bit. He isn't sure how to bring it up at first, but eventually he just comes out and asks, "Are you feeling well, Adelaide?"

It isn't often the Iron Lady sends an invitation that isn't directly connected to some manner of mage business. So infrequent is this that Adelaide assumes she's asked after for some manner of words to be shared over the incident with the Abomination and whatever it is they are to do afterward- for something must be done. Shoulders squared and braced for some manner of argument- either being argued at or having to argue in turn, Adelaide makes her way up to the battered, scorched balcony where Vivienne holds court.

An audience meant expectations could be met or fallen short of in short order- all the more reason for her to be seen out and about. Healthy. Well. Acting in the better interests of the Inquisition by restocking the stores of potions and poultices used during the event. The incident.

Even writing it away like that in her mind left a foul taste in her mouth.

Her lips twisted as she ground the elfroot into a paste, only looking up at the dim nudge of Compassion. Sina- for all that she was a patient and peer of Adelaide's, expected little of her beyond what she already managed. To try to find a cure. To be mindful of the Dalish. It helped loosen some of the tension in her shoulders, though she could not quite manage a smile. "Are you feeling well today, Sina?"

"...Beg pardon?" She's been paying attention, has she not? Did she miss something? Lose time to the crackle of fire and the weeping- the terror in Lauren's eyes? No, she's certain she hasn't.

Felix is careful when he speaks. "Given... what happened recently. I was a bit worried for you."

"The abomination?" Lauren, she wants to correct- he was a mage, he was young, he was frightened- but she lets that slip past. "I am well, Felix. Truly."

Even if she cannot lean back in her chair comfortably just yet.

Sina gave a sleepy smile and a little shrug. "Better than before," she replied, "though I'm starting to hate the taste of elfroot." Her smile became a mild smirk as she directed her gaze to what Adelaide was doing. "Can I help?"

"I'll see if I can't find a jar of honey to sweeten the potion." There may yet be one in the kitchens if not in her own stores. At the question she slowed in her grinding and paused to wipe her hands clean on a rag, tugging a fresh stone and bowl and motions to the pile of herbs next to her. "Of course. It will go faster with the two of us."

Felix tilts his head a bit and then sighs a bit. The sound of it is shakey. He isn't sure what to say to her, but he remembers she has an easier time responding to his feelings than expressing her own. After a moment, he tries that route.

"I used to be so worried about such things. I wondered if weak mages were more likely to fall that way. If our wills were as strong as our abilities." He frowns a bit and looks at the blanket covering his lower body.

"I doubt any demon would be interested in this body now."

Thready, unsteady- she's become more and more accustomed to the sound for all that it chips at her heart every time he looses one. The failings of the body she knows well- as well as she understands the progression of one blighted. Frowning, she tugs her chair closer to the bed, curling her other hand around Felix's as well. Attempts to offer a bit of her own strength in the spell pouring between their fingers.

"The will of a mage and their power in magic are not the same, Felix." It'd be simple enough to teach, to recite rhetoric and lectures as she had in the Spire but- She shakes her head. "One of the strongest mages I'd ever known was so fearful that he chose tranquility rather than undergo his harrowing."

She'd seen him to the chamber. Seen him once afterward.

Lost quite a bit of time to wine and solitary weeping.

Her lips twist. "If you were so weak a man you would have turned to blood magic long ago for some manner of cure or deal. You have not."

The talk of Harrowing and Tranquility chill him to his bones. He really had had no idea that Southern mages had had to face such things, and now that he has some inkling of the fact that they he finds himself even more grateful to have been born in Tevinter. He can't say those things, though. He would hate for them to be taken the wrong way. There is, after all, a lot of that needs to be changed.

He shakes his head at that. "Never blood magic. Blood magic is an avenue meant for those who have weak minds." A pause, and he looks up at her again. "My father taught me that. For all of his shortcomings, and all of the terrible things he did, he would never resort to that. Before I was sick, he dedicated his life to resiting the temptation."

Then, after a moment, an idea comes to him. He approaches it carefully though, given what his father has done there are good reasons to turn down this idea. "He may be able to help now. Not directly, of course. The mages here have all the reason to distrust him, but perhaps the Council can work with him and discuss some of his methods? Then you could use them to help prevent this in the future."

The shell of ice cracks a little- the indelicate snorting laugh of a woman running herself ragged. "If they would deign to listen to such advice, it would be a marvel. If they would listen to anyone at all it would be a miracle."

She reaches up to massage some of the tension from her own temples and the motion, made carelessly, causes her to flinch from the pulling of skin across her back. Another long soak and night on her stomach with a salve would help but nothing but time can truly cure the way it's scarred. "I will try. I promise you that much, ma Douleur. I shall try."

To offer anything less felt unkind. And while she may never be the nicest mage in Skyhold she does ever so endeavor to be kind. Whether or not she manages that is up for debate.

Felix reaches up and puts a hand on her shoulder. Then, slowly, if she allows, he slides it up to touch her cheek. His fingers trail over her neck, rubbing softly, and then cups her face.

"You're hurt," he says after a moment. He had noticed that flinch and it worries him.

She stamps down on a flinch, the barest tensing of her muscles under his hand rather than the full jerk away- she's gotten better at hiding that. It is only Felix- he can hardly cause her harm. He wouldn't, even if he could. "I-"

It's shockingly intimate, the drag of his hand against her neck- easy to squeeze, to strangle, to snap- but he doesn't. Won't. Can't. Adelaide is frozen for a moment, uncertain what to do with this contact. for all that she does the same for him the rationalization has been that it's to help him with his pain. With his isolation.

Never has it occurred to her that he'd do the same for much the same reasons. "...He used fire. I was burned, somewhat."

Felix's frown deepens at that. His thumb trails across her cheek for a moment before he takes his hand back, slowly.

"You must be in pain then." Even healing potions and salves can't get rid of the lingering sting from burns. "You don't have to sit up with me if you'd feel more comfortable lying down." He's fretting again, worrying that caring for him will cause her harm.

"I am fine. It's been mended." As best any healer, even herself, could manage. She's fine. There is no need for him to look so distraught over her and her foolishness brought on by Cullen's foolishness brought on by everyone's foolishness in not having a plan ready for the possibility of an Abomination.

"I'm fine. It aches if I move too quickly, that is all. I would rather be sitting here with you than lying in bed doing nothing."

He presses his lips together for a moment in thought and then slowly pushes his body over to the side of the bed, making space for her.

"You could lie here," he suggests, before realizes how inappropriate that may be. "I mean... nothing improper will come of it, of course. It's only to let us both relax."

Four words and she's gone from pale and weary to pink in under a second. Lie here? With him? In his sickbed?

It'd hardly be appropriate, she's his physician. "...If it will make you stop fretting so, I suppose..."

Felix looks embarrassed we all. "It might," he says, but now he's really second guessing himself.

"It will. If I stay and sit you will frown at me." And right now she does not think she can take him wasting his time frowning over her. If for his comfort she must lay next to him? She will. Collecting her skirts with one hand so as to not tangle her legs in them she sits, first on the edge before laying down, careful not to pull the skin of her back.

On her side, like this, she's able to face him. It's strangely not as uncomfortable as she might have thought. "Satisfied?"

He blinks when she does it and then looks over at her. "Yes," he says after a moment. He shifts a bit again to make sure she has personal space and then settles back down. "I am."

Sina smiled, nodded, and let her legs unfold so she could take the bowl and start to work at it. She crushed and ground the herbs in silence for a time, and after several minutes, began to thinly hum an old Dalish tune.

"You are ridiculous." She mutters, happier to lay on her side and frown at him as though this is any shade of normal than she is to think about it- even if she can't not. Even if fighting down the pink in her cheeks is slightly impossible. "But there. I am horizontal. Huzzah."

"I am allowed to be," Felix replies. His own smile becomes a bit stronger. "When you're on the your last days, ridiculousness is merited." He knows that joking about his death is morbid, but it's really all he can do.

"...That is cheating." But it makes her laugh all the same, a faint bubble of sound that she tries and fails to bite back. "You are not allowed to be morbid and charming. It isn't fair."

It was soothing in it's tedium, it's normalcy. That even now, like this, the work could be done and could be done well. A mentor of hers told her ages ago that it was the small things you learned to appreciate. Between the work and the humming, Adelaide felt some of the frustrated tension in her unwind.

"If you make me settle for one, I'll likely choose morbid, and then where would we all be?" He's smiling though. The sound of her laugh is worth it.

"Fine, if you must be both, then be both. Who am I to begrudge a dying man his peculiarities?" No one of great importance. And the bed is more comfortable than the chair, weight and strain off the tender skin of her back.

Vivienne's poor balcony is sadly at least a partial victim of the Abomination's rampage. When it went blasting into the Main Hall from the gardens, a chunk of the wall went flying. Some furniture has been broken, a dusting of crumbled stone and mortar litters the floor. Already there is a wooden scaffold up to support the balcony until repairs can be made, and Madame de Fer has shuttled damaged goods to the side until they can be dealt with. The glass was fortunately spared.

While Vivienne is grateful none of her rare and precious tomes have been obliterated in the ordeal, things can be replaced and people cannot. It pains her deeply to see so many promising young mages killed by the council's inaction. But now is a time to heal those wounds and repair the damages as best they can, both the physical and emotional.

On Adelaide's arrival, she smiles and motions the other mage over to join her on one of the few sitting pieces remaining. "Ah there you are, my dear. I do hope this isn't terribly inconvenient for you. Make yourself comfortable but do mind any stray rocks. I'm still picking them out of the most unexpected places."

"Not at all." With the bulk of her time split between her students, the injured, and conferring with other council members on what ought to be done, what must be done, and what mustn't be done- she'd assumed that meeting with Vivienne would happen sooner rather than later. At least the conversation ought to be, on the surface if nothing else, civil. It's more than she might have gotten for her suggestions of compromise from others, and all the more bearable from someone that was actually present for the event. Commentary from someone that didn't experience it for themselves and had no point of reference became a bit difficult to endure after awhile.

Adelaide made certain to check the seat over for pebbles or other debris before sitting with as much grace as she can manage- her posture yet stiff and tense from the burn. Not her most glorious moment, that, but well worth doing. Better her than someone the Inquisition cannot afford to lose.

Smiling- takes a bit more effort, but not for any lack of fondness on her part for Vivienne. As sharp and certain as the Iron lady is, Adelaide admires her. Weariness more than anything makes it a struggle but she does manage. "You've been well?"

"Lady LeBlanc, please." He'd motion for her to come in further. He feels like there's much to discuss after - well, everything. But this isn't about the mage being unharrowed or the fact that there needs to be more safeguards in case this sort of emergency happens again.

"How are you feeling?" It's the one thing he worries about. No one should have to protect him from any foolish mistake he's done. If he's going to be foolish enough to be a hero, let him be foolish. No one should get hurt because of him.

"Well, and yourself?" Civil. Civil and calm and not at all moving stiffly- if there's any hesitance on her part to sit, he's imagining it. She sits, perched on the edge of the chair rather than leaning back. It's a bit rigid, her posture, but it's what is most comfortable as the skin heals and learns to endure pressure and heat all over again.

"As well as can be expected, considering the dreadful circumstances." There is no point at all in trying to mask that she finds the whole tragedy a complete travesty. She may be called the Iron Lady, but those were mages- young, vulnerable mages- that lost their lives. It was necessary to end the poor boy's life once he'd succumbed, but ah how she wishes it had not come to that.

Once Adelaide is settled in, Vivienne pours the tea and holds out the cup for her to take. The other has been injured and while she's been well tended, it's best not to aggravate healing wounds with an excess of movement. "How are you faring? And how are your students?"

Terrified would be her guess. Poor dears.

"We are all shaken." Distressed. Who weren't already afraid due to the circumstances are now terrified. What little progress her students have made since Andoral's Reach has not been completely undone but- they've taken quite a few steps back. Withdrawing to huddle together, to keep their own company, to give templars and other mages wide berth.

Attempting to recover from that will be an exhausting task. Recovering from her own disappointment, frustrations, and guilt- all the more so.

The tea helps- Adelaide accepts the mug with a faint grimace, more for the question than the pulling of skin on her back. "Terrified. They'd been settling in quite happily beforehand but now- they rarely leave the quarters we share. We were fortunate in the Spire to not face an Abomination on top of everything else when we fled but- They are shaken."

"Quite so. Poor dears. If there is anything at all I can do to help, I insist you let me know, no matter how great or small." Although Vivienne is quite aware that her presence is intimidating, by intention, to some of the most hearty of souls, and might be nearly overpowering to traumatized apprentices. Nonetheless, her offer is genuine. Something must be done to help their own and she would have a hand in that.

Adelaide's grimace from moving does not escape Madame de Fer's sharp eyes either. A lecture about self-care is not forthcoming... yet. Instead, she asks quietly, as a matter of respect for the other mage's privacy and pride, "Shall I have a healer brought up to see further to your injuries, darling?"

"I can tell by the way you're sitting that you're not exactly well." He leaves it at that, because if she wants to talk about it, she's more than welcome to.

Yet, he still feels horrible. She shouldn't have taken that hit for him.

"I'm... fine," he starts. A bit angry, but there's nothing he can do about that until things have been settled. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Reassurances that the templars aren't going to sweep in and kill us all would be lovely. They have heard it from me but..." The shadow of the White Spire lingers. It likely will for a fair while more; no matter how much work she puts into reassuring them of their security. From her? They take it to mean she'll likely die attempting to protect them as she nearly had before. From Vivienne? They may take it as truth.

Such is the weight of her presence, of her word.

"There is little more that can be done for them but time. Burns are...particular in their healing." For a day or so more she will be stiff and will need to stretch out before resting at night- but it will pass. All things do.

"Better my back than yours." She may as well lay it out there. They haven't precisely discussed it and while she's content to leave it as it is- he may have words. She ought to hear them. "Perhaps not throw yourself head first into battle without time for your support to cover you? Perhaps not dive headfirst into battle at all? Generals do not normally lead from the front, Commander. The Inquisition cannot afford to lose you."

"How is your back better than mine? I went into that battle fully knowing what could happen."

He rubs at the bridge of his nose, sighing. "I will not send in any of my men into something I myself would not do, Lady Leblanc. If I cannot face a demon, how do you expect the soldiers to do so?" A pause. "There are others here that are fully qualified to take my place should something happen. I am no more important than you or anyone else here."

"You are more than their Commander, Cullen. You are their General. You led them here from Haven; it is not a question of qualification but one of morale. Whether or not someone else might step in should you find yourself dead due to your own foolishness does not matter. They will not be you. The Inquisition has already lost the Herald, it cannot afford to lose anyone else we look to. Unfortunate as you may find it- that includes you. I am a healer, one of many. The morale of the Inquisition does not rest upon my shoulders."

To herself, Vivienne is thinking that they would all quite like that reassurance. Despite her firm pro-Templar leanings, their atrocious behavior of late has left a sour taste in her mouth. Throwing tantrums against the Chantry like a spoiled child breaking a priceless vase to get it's mother's attention. She'd quite like to thump that set on the head and remind them they took vows and if they no longer like what those vows involve, they should seek other employment. Then there are the Templars who have forgotten that their duty is to protect their charges, not slaughter them wantonly. This is not even addressing the reprehensible collection who have chosen the Red. The whole lot of them need a solid spanking and to be sent to bed without supper, only with less childish analogy and far more reaching consequences for bad behavior.

However, she's quite convinced neither Cullen, nor Cassandra, would permit any of the current or previous Templars in their midst to come swooping down and slaughter the young mages being harbored within the Inquisition. She's enough faith in the both of them that she nods firmly at Adelaide. "I'll come speak to them myself. It's so very important that these children feel safe while they are with us. There is much healing for us all in the days ahead."

Not just burned flesh either. That healing is far easier than the wounds inflicted in this horror that magic and medicine cannot heal.

"I will appreciate it greatly, Vivienne. I know your time is valuable." And yet she continues to make it, not only for Adelaide and the Council, but for her students as well. Some have murmured her name with tante attached. Auntie. Eventually one might slip and it'll be encouraged or frowned upon. Considering how kind Vivienne has been, how supportive? Adelaide's coin is on the former.

If anything she thinks he Iron Lady may just be a little charmed.

"Doing what we can to help the rest of the apprentices feel well is also vital. This much fear and anxiety leaves them a beacon." And not one they can afford.

[ CLOSED ] A general collision with all that stands as such

Sina - The Healing Tents

Cullen - His Office

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Felix - His Quarters

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Vivienne - Her Balcony

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