faderift | OPEN: this will be a better year

OPEN: this will be a better year

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: First Day
WHEN: Wintermarch 1 (forward-dated)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Scouts from both the Western Approach and Emprise du Lion are welcome (but not required) to have returned to Skyhold in time for this event.

There have been better First Day feasts, and less crowded ones, and cheerier ones. It isn't a good year for many to look back on, and this one isn't starting any better. Reports from both Eastern and Western Orlais are grim. Many in the Inquisition can't afford to take more than a few hours away from their work, if that.

But for those who can, the ambassador does her best. At lunchtime some tables, hot food, and finery are reserved for visiting nobility and wealthy pilgrims--cause for grumbling in some quarters, perhaps, but they're the people filling the Inquisition's coffers, and allowances must be made--but there's plenty of stew, bread, and ale for everyone, even with the soldiers and refugees who stay outside the fortress invited inside for the holiday. The recently repaired garden and its carefully tended plants aren't off limits, but anyone noisy and holding a drink will be stopped at the door; the battlements, with their potential for deadly falls, are blocked by Inquisition guards. But the courtyards brim with people, most of them happy despite the possibility that the world might end before another First Day arrives.

If the courtyards are too full of tipsy visitors for comfort, there's also the valley beyond the fortress, expansive, barren, and covered in snow. By the river the soldiers help the refugees make a bonfire larger than would ever be allowed inside Skyhold's walls, and some lend their shields to use as sleds down the embankments. A group of scouts start the most intense game of hide and seek Thedas has ever seen, with snowballs to the face for whoever is found first. In the camp, a refugee girl with her hand wrapped in a green scarf chases other children around the tents, shouting raaar, I'm from the rifts!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Bruce is, first and foremost, not one for parties.

Well, he's never been one for socializing, but parties in particular he never quite got the hang of. His childhood didn't really give him occasion, and his Circle wasn't one for such things, and then after that--

End of the day is that Bruce much prefers the quiet and not being surrounded by people - even if he does recognize a good number of them.

Still there's no way he can really avoid the party, not when all of Skyhold is apparently in it, so he does sort of attend. Well if by 'attend' meaning 'taking some of the food offered and sitting by the fire and hoping nobody will bother him'.

Hopefully nobody will. They all seem occupied with one another anyway.]

[ Finding Bruce took a little doing- but she's able to find him well enough. She shoes her students away and settles next to him by the fire, a warmed mug of mulled wine in her hands and, carefully, leans enough to bump their shoulders together. ]

A lovely evening for this, is it not?

[The sound of footsteps close enough to him is what gets Bruce's attention first, and then after that Adelaide is settling down easily beside him.]

Ah--yes. [He replies after a moment's beat, a bit surprised at the company but it is Adelaide, so its not too bad. He manages a smile towards her and turns to look at the fire, watching as it burns.] It is a pretty fine day.

[ The bump becomes a sustained lean- Bruce one of the precious few in Skyhold where she is comfortable enough with sustained contact. He is warm and stable and safe in ways that she cannot consider most. ]

Some might consider it a good omen for the year to come.

[Bruce is pretty surprised when she suddenly leans in like that, and try as he might he can't quite stop himself from tensing. Its not a lot though, at least, and Bruce takes a breath to calm himself down, reminding that nobody here is after him. He's alright. For now.]

Hopefully. [He manages out a response, voice quiet. Personally Bruce isn't one to believe in superstitions and omens and all that so much but--if it makes people feel better, then by all means.]

[ She ignores it- much as he has ever ignored her own bouts of flinching and tension. This is her trying to reach out, to take back what the Spire stole from her. Whatever causes Bruce his distress...they do not discuss hers. she will not ask after his. ]

I found Hope today. Literally. That is a better sign for the coming days than any omen writ in tea or- whatever they seek out for omens. Another Spirit Healer- an elf. And her spirit is Hope. I have not heard them in so long- but they are here.

[Another spirit? Bruce wants to ask, because, well. There seem to be one too many spirits around here lately. Its especially odd considering how in his own travels it was rare to even see on, but yet here there were so many. Perhaps it was the congregation of people here, or perhaps what the Inquisition stood for. Either way, Bruce wasn't going to dwell on it.]

Perhaps. [He murmurs once more, trying not to think too much into it like he told himself. Given his own history Bruce can't help but be a bit wary, but he does understand that there are good spirits just as there are demons. It's just his own fate that he had to end up with a demon.

Then again, he more or less deserved it.]

Or perhaps I am projecting.

[ She knows better than to say 'it cannot be a worse year than the last', enough tales have begun with such words. Nothing good would come of them. But in this moment there is Bruce, there is the distant, ringing note of Hope wherever Killian finds her rest for the evening, and there is the familiar warmth and rolling tones of Compassion to buoy her spirits. ]

There is...[ Ah, wrong tense. Her lips twist faintly for a moment before she continues. ] there was a tradition in the spire. We would write what we hoped to achieve- a difficult spell, a breakthrough in research, something we wanted, and then we would burn it. There was usually drinking involved as well, but. The idea was that you would know your own mind and your own resolve better than anyone, and you would burn it with your ambition.

[It's not wrong to hope. Bruce himself has hoped for things more than once, although these days tat same hope doesn't burn as strongly as it used to. A lot of his old energy had run out a long time ago - most days he just passes through them as nothing more than a specter of himself, pretending to be human despite knowing that he can no longer be one ever again.

He's lost hope a long time ago, but that doesn't mean others should lose theirs.]

It doesn't sound particularly safe. [Is what he says instead of a few other things that pop up in his head. (Be careful what you wish for, ambition only works to a point.)] Especially if we're talking about ingesting ashes.

[He supposes if its a little its still alright, but he can't help but be concerned anyway.]

Ah, no. We drank wine while writing and burning, we did not drink the ashes themselves. That is a bit ritualistic even for a tower. I meant- it was how we celebrated. There was wine and dancing, you would write your ambition, your determination, your resolve- and you would burn it. The ashes would be sent to the clouds by storm mages after midnight from the roof of the Tower.

[ To better share and spread their glory- or something to that effect. Usually she was happily tipsy and kissing someone at this point of the celebration. This will mark the first year she is not doing so. ]

[Ah, alright. That made a bit more sense. Bruce nods wordlessly and stares down at his own hands, full of scars and burn marks and blisters that have long since healed. That sounded... well, it was hard to not be just a bit jealous. Bruce never had the opportunity to go someplace as grand as the Spire; even in the Circles he supposed he was more... backwater was probably the best word to use. It had just ever been a place to live in because he had nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to be. Nowhere else to belong.

Bruce stops himself on that train of thought before it can go any further, clenching his fists lightly.]

I never knew being in a Circle could be that exciting. [He replies, and its half a truth. The two Circles he had stayed in had always been more traditional, for lack of a better word. Aside from the necessary rituals and such nothing really happened during all the festive days. Bruce had never thought much of it back then because there was the work, and festivals always had a bad habit of reminding him about his life before the Circles. A life he would never have again.]

Edited 2016-01-02 14:44 (UTC)

We were never supposed to, but we did anyway. Up until this past year we were permitted if only because it would give the Templars a little time of their own to celebrate elsewhere. A few would always remain with us- magic and wine do not often mix well; and every year since I reached my majority we had the same three.

[ She snorts a soft laugh, leaning over to squeeze his hand. A little longer than her usual flitting touches, but there none the less. ]

Augustine, Pascal and- [ She cuts herself off quietly, suddenly, throat catching around the name.

Dead.

He's dead. He is dead, he is gone, he cannot do anything further but the twist in his lips and the darkness in his eyes linger for a few tense moments before Adelaide is able to swallow past it. Force her way through for tonight is a good night. She wishes it to remain so. ]

And. Unger. Every year they minded us so nothing was burnt.

[Bruce, of course, quickly notices the way she hesitates around his name, and clearly there is something that had happened, something that had affected her so - that made her how she is now. Bruce is aware all of that and in a way, he can understand. Understand enough to know that it is best to not pry. Everyone has their secrets; that is something Bruce knows more than others.]

I'm sorry. [That doesn't mean he can't acknowledge it, of course, though he doesn't push anything more than that. Instead he tries to help her focus on the now, and if her hand is still on his he curls his fingers a little, enough so that he can gently squeeze her hand back in turn.

It's clear that Bruce is terribly unused to the gesture, but in the last few months Adelaide has been understanding and patient. Bruce thinks it would be impolite to not try and return the same effort she is extending towards him.]

At least now you're celebrating here. [He says after a pause, managing a smile while he speaks.] Even if there's considerably less paper burning.

[ It isn't much. It isn't terribly much at all- but it is enough. Something grounding, something present. She is able to push the last shreds of those ghosts and those fears far from her mind in favor of the fire crackling before them. ]

What we have? We need. [ They cannot waste it on something so small as a tradition. Even her own notes are tight and cramped to preserve the space on the page; to get the most out of every sheaf she's given. ] I want to make this to work. The Inquisition, the council. More than anything- I only want to do whatever I can to make this to work- for it to all mean something in the end. That is what I would write.

You'll do it. I'm sure you can.

[He can see the work she puts into it, her belief, her faith--her hope. She does it because she wants to make it better for others and that is always admirable. Bruce can never have that same sort of drive any longer and seeing it on her is good. It's good to know that there are people here who can do the things he'll never be able to do.]

You're doing everything you can. Effort had never gone unrewarded. [One day, what she wants will be real. As long as she doesn't give up, he thinks she'll be able to make it happen for sure.]

I am not so certain. All I know is that I must work for it until the mountain of what must be done seems less daunting.

[ Still she squeezes his hand back a little tighter, leans into him a little more. His support, his certainty? Means a great deal to her. That anyone can have that kind of faith in her beyond what she is able to manage as a healer- it warms her. Settles her. Banishes the ghosts and gives her an echo of the newest song she'd heard.

Hope.

It is such a dangerous, fragile thing. But it is worth having. ]

Thank you, Bruce. Truly.

That's an admirable goal.

[He says with a small quirk at the corner of his lips, used enough to her being close that he doesn't react as much when she leans into him some more. Human contact is still so foreign to him in general, but hopefully he's getting used to it, little by little - although he's well aware that it is going to be a long process if he ever wants to overcome that obstacle completely. Not that he has any intention to right now - there are more important tasks at hand compared to his own comfort.

At her thanks he only gives a small shake of his head, quickly waving away the gratitude because really, he doesn't deserve it.] You don't have to thank me. I'm only saying what I think is right.

[He's always been a person of facts and reality, not of what-ifs and maybes - that part of him had been mercilessly crushed in a life now long lost.]

And that is why I thank you. For the rational, grounded perspective.

[ Too much time with spirits and speculation will make a mind wander, will make possibilities and variations on a theme the melody rather than the steady click of the metronome. Bruce is that steady click. That reminder of what is, of the ground, calling her back from a verse they haven't even hit- a verse that isn't written and might never be.

Focus on the bridge while it's being built. ]

I get ahead of myself sometimes- borrowing fears and worries where I should not.

It's not a bad thing to think ahead.

[Bruce does that himself, perhaps all too much, always preparing for the worst, making arrangements for all the ways it can go wrong - would always go wrong, because nothing in his life had ever gone the way it should. Always there will be a day when what he has now will end, and then Bruce has to move on again - as he always does.

He only hopes that it won't result in any collateral damage in the process.]

It's always better to be prepared than be caught unawares. [Although there's only ever so much one can think of. But that doesn't mean she should stop. Just... perhaps know her limits better.]

But it is bad to become so lost in what might be that I forget to mind the present.

[ And there is so much left for her to mind. But they will make do, they must make do, and she will try a little harder not to trip down the lane of possibility. Preparing for the worst, bracing for it, and hope for nothing.

That way no matter what comes to pass it is a pleasant surprise. ]

It's a balancing act.

[Both are equally important, but the present is, well, the present. Nothing holds as much weight as the now, where reactions and feelings and all those things are very real. But that's not to say everything else is secondary. Everything matters, one way or another.]

But I'm sure its one you can manage. You've managed everything else rather admirably, after all.

Not with near as much grace as I would hope. You are the one that hears of my troubles the most and...I do not think you know how much I appreciate that you allow me the time and space to do so. You've your own patients and concerns to mind and you hear me out without comment or question more often than you truly ought.

[ She's grateful. She does not have words for how grateful- and thanking him for anything is a bit of a trial. He doesn't care for it so she simply has not done so but...going into the new year? He ought to be aware. ]

[Honestly it doesn't bother Bruce at all, and he is happy to have been able to help somehow - although deep down he knows the gesture isn't entirely altruistic. In a way he's able to get information about the Council like this since he is a mage in the end, even if it doesn't matter to him as much now.]

I've been told I have a good listening ear. [He replies with a small quirk at the corner of his lips.] Plus its never healthy to keep everything up inside.

[He's well aware of how entirely hypocritical that is for him to say it, but, well. He's never mattered.]

An excellent ear.

[ She snorts softly before sitting up on her own; having taken her fair share of his warmth and support for the evening. Even like this, close and quiet and calm, it is grounding for her more than most anything outside of meditation. ]

So long as you do not mind, I shall continue to do so.

[There's a small, quiet laugh from Bruce at her words, letting go of her hand as she shifts to straighten up. The warmth is gone but it still lingers on long enough for Bruce to relish for as long as it stays. It's been a (long) while since he had such close contact like this.]

I'm never one to mind such things. [As long as he can help, Bruce is willing to provide whatever services that he can give.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN: this will be a better year

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject