MOD PLOT ↠ A THOUSAND WRONGS

[faderifting]

WHO: Everyone!
WHAT: Assisting with the aftermath of occupation
WHEN: August through Kingsway
WHERE: Field of Ghislain
NOTES: OOC post. Please use appropriate content warnings in your comment subject lines as needed.

The Fields of Ghislain are, as the name suggests, broad open plains, more flat than not, more grass than trees. There are famous orchards around Arlesans at the southern end, but they fade into grassland and farm land, wide fields of wheat and corn separating quiet farming villages and the occasional bustling market town, the even more occasional country estate.

High summer here has always meant long hot days, dusty roads, and preparations for the harvest. Now it also means recovery from the sudden end to the area's year-and-a-half of occupation by the forces of Corypheus. On first glance, the area appears to have escaped relatively unscathed. There are a few burnt villages here and there, a few new rifts, and the scarred valley where the Battle of Ghislain took place, but there are also crops growing strong in the fields and markets open for business, people going about their lives.

On closer inspection, there's more work to be done. The immediate threats are obvious: an unusual number of rifts and the general thinning of the Veil they signal, small bands of enemies—including bands of darkspawn with red lyrium growths—still marauding through the region, isolated patches of red lyrium to be destroyed and Blight to be contained.

Most places have at least one building that's been destroyed by fire or force, some practically essential—a grain store, an infirmary, a watch tower—some invaluable in other ways—a chantry, a mayor's office, a monument to heroic ancestors. Some places showed more resistance than others, and there whole neighborhoods or even entire villages have been gutted by fire and the ruins shoved over like block towers. Some survivors fled and now return to pick through the debris, while others remained, living in shanties in the ashes waiting for a chance to rebuild. Despite the crops ripening in the fields there are signs of malnutrition in many places as well, stories of crops confiscated to feed the invading troops and only meager rations returned, worse off even than those affected by shortages elsewhere in Orlais.

And it's not just the material that the enemy has taken or destroyed. Every decent-sized village has its missing, people who were arrested and taken away in wagons or simply vanished one day out of the blue. Where there was resistance there were executions to discourage it, and while the inhabitants have already taken down and buried the displayed bodies, there are a few places where there is no one left to do so, or where magic placed remains out of reach but always in sight.

There are opportunities too: the enemy lived and worked here for 18 months. They did their best to cover their tracks when they left, but it was a hasty and unexpected withdrawal, and there is a wealth of information to collect and work through. There are houses they occupied that haven't been entirely cleaned out, papers only half-burned in an abandoned office, a storeroom in an outpost basement they forgot to empty. And there are the people who have been forced to live and work alongside them all this time to be spoken with, the names they've learned and the conversations they've overheard, the training exercises held on their village greens, all to be teased out and taken down.

One abandoned operation commands particular attention: the site that Riftwatch—then the Inquisition—observed on the eve of the Battle might be a shrine to the Old God Dumat. At the time this was a newly-discovered ruin and little could be discerned for certain, but during their occupation the Venatori have undertaken massive excavations. They've uncovered not just a shrine but a significant temple complex, much of it underground. Exploration of the lowest levels will be handled by a particular team, but there is more to see and do besides. The warren of ruins and the remains of the camp outside them must be searched for clues as to the Venatori's purpose here, and a preliminary study made of the site's contents. There are also the slaves who did the back-breaking labor of digging out the complex and now need assistance. Many are locals, who simply need a ride back to their homes. Others the Venatori brought with them from Tevinter, and they will need to be interviewed and local communities persuaded to take them in.

It is an unimaginable amount of work, but Riftwatch isn't doing it alone. The Inquisition still has a large number of noncombatants, many of whom have been sent to help with outreach and rebuilding in particular. The Exalted March, too, has plenty of volunteers that aren't exactly fit for the front lines. There is enough ground to cover for everyone, but there will be times when Riftwatch agents will be working with—or at least alongside—those from the Inquisition and the Exalted March, and orders are clear that they are to maintain good working relations and not start any trouble.

In between all of this there will be long rides by horse or cart from this village to that one over dirt tracks with cicadas buzzing in the sun, sweltering afternoons broken up by sudden, drenching thunderstorms, warm evenings playing pétanque on the green with the locals over a pint of cider. There will be as many wary as grateful, but hopefully by the end of the summer Riftwatch can tip that balance a little bit.

Comments

[hassaran]

Deny you the chance to show off your thatching skills? Never. And you'd have to put your shirt back on.

[ Speaking of which, she helpfully spreads said shirt out on the grass behind her to dry in the sun before producing two mismatched glasses from the basket and tossing them across the blanket as well. ]

This whole place is like that. You almost forget, riding through the fields on a day like this. But then you look hard at any town and you'll put your foot through and find something terrible.

[staysail]

Could try interviews without a shirt. See if it helps the diplomacy any.

[The cork gives way. Darras takes up the glasses and pours out--Yseult first, and he leans over to hand her the glass before he pours for himself.]

It's hard, getting up close to it. And I knew it would be, but, still. Miserable on this end.

[hassaran]

[ Yseult nods, and keeps nodding after she's swallowed a mouthful of wine. ]

This is what always happens to the people in the middle if wars aren't prevented or swiftly ended. Though the magic here certainly makes it worse.

[staysail]

[Darras waits until he's had his first sip of wine, and the bottle is carefully set down again, before--]

And what's it we'll do about it? Besides, [he gestures, back the way they came,] thatching. It's not all burnt cottages.

[Not sharp, the way he's been when speaking of her work. That was different. They're here now, together, in this field, between work that they now share. Now he's asking, really; now he's tired.]

[hassaran]

[ She had an answer, before, just as quick and sharp and sure as his challenge. Now, she sighs. ]

I don't know. We're not enough even to thatch all the houses that need it, but if we're not solving every grand problem all at once everyone's angry. Nothing I'm doing is making any progress.

[staysail]

[He makes a quiet noise of agreement--mm, as musing as it is thoughtful.]

D'you want to tell me about it, or d'you want to eat this picnic first and we don't talk about any of it. The grass is very high. No one can see us, you assured me.

[--which is gentle teasing, yeah. But at the same time, not talking of it, putting aside the oily smoke and the interviews and the unsolvable problems... it's tempting.]

[hassaran]

[ That makes her smile, no teeth but a crooked turn-up of her lips. And a moment's hesitation before she tips her head back, eyes closing against the sun, and shakes. ]

We can talk about it later, or when we're back. Let's just do this. Since we're already hiding.

[ She looks down, blinking away the sunspots. ] Yes?

[staysail]

[He's smiling when she blinks those spots away, and leans across the space between them to cup her cheek in his hand.]

You ought to know my vote.

[He rubs his thumb against her cheek, just beneath her eye.]

But it's not hiding. It's, what. A very small holiday.

[hassaran]

[ She shifts her chin the few degrees necessary to press a kiss to his palm. And then draws back, shifting around the edge of the blanket so she can lean against him rather than facing each other down across it. ]

I'm trying to remember my last holiday [ she says, reaching back to collect her wine. She drinks, and shakes her head. ] Have I forgotten one since we came to Kirkwall? And I'd hardly count Llomerryn before that. Years.

[staysail]

No. You've not forgotten one. Is this you fishing, and trying to get a holiday out of me? 'Cos it's working.

[He's shifted to accommodate her, moving so she can arrange herself against him. Now he smiles down at her and still leave it so they can both drink their wine.]

The cottage? Or somewhere different?

[hassaran]

Daydreaming, more like.

[ She shifts and stretches out before she settles, head propped against his side almost too low to drink her wine but not quite. ]

Home first. To lie on the lawn like this in peace all day. And then somewhere different. Where else would you go?

[staysail]

Our lawn is better'n this.

[But this is pretty great, and hopefully that goes without saying. The shade from the tree is already creeping closer. And it's not as if he could get any sweatier. There's something pleasant about it anyways, like a badge proving how hard he's worked.

And besides all of that: Yseult is here, which changes everything.]

I dunno where I'd go. Being with Riftwatch, we're sort of seeing it all, aren't we? Not in any relaxed way. Maybe... the inner parts of Antiva, to start with. I haven't been that far west.

[hassaran]

I spent a day in Seleny once in passing, it was quite pretty. Vineyards along the river. The far west sounds very flat and dry. Lots of horses.

[ That warning comes with a teasing smile, he'll hear it. ]

Have you ever been to the inland Marches? Ansburg to Markham from the river to the mountains is very green.

[staysail]

[He makes an audible eurgh at lots of horses, playing into it.]

Vineyards, though. [Not bad.] Never been to that bit of the Marches. How's the horses there? Plague, or sparse?

[hassaran]

Oh, some. [ She lifts a hand to wobble it in the air. ] But big slow workhorses, not the wild herds of Antiva. A few mountain ponies. [ It might be partially true. ]

It may be that I like the idea of the mountains because they sound cool. Like in the Vinmarks in the winter, but without all of Riftwatch along.

[staysail]

[He should be able to maintain a straight face, but he's tired, and anyways, her answer makes him laugh.]

I can outrun either of those. Probably. I'm not keen on cold, but cool, I can suffer for awhile. What else is in the mountains? Bears?

[hassaran]

Bears, [ she agrees with a definite nod ] mountain lions? Those goats with the big horns. Wolves. But we can avoid all of those. Stay in a valley and only look at the mountains.

[ She tips her head back further, chin up and over until she can see his face. ] I'm keeping you from eating lying like this. Sorry. [ She braces a hand against his knee to push herself upright. ] And the cheese will be melting. This wouldn't happen in a mountain picnic.

[staysail]

I'd fight a goat with big horns for you. A wolf. I'd--

[He grins at her when she tips her head back to look at him, right before he reaches over to push at her shoulder, stopping her from getting up.]

--I'd eat melting cheese for you. C'mon, don't get up just yet, this is perfect.

[hassaran]

[ She laughs, and lays her hand over his where it rests on her shoulder, not getting up but tilting her head back to him again, chin angled. ] Very nearly.

[staysail]

[Without disturbing her--or at least, trying very hard not to disturb her, which involves a lot of contorting--Darras cranes himself toward her, like he's going to close the distance between them and plant a kiss on her.]

Very nearly. But better in the mountains, d'you think?

[hassaran]

[ When he stops short she catches fingers in his shirt--or would, if he were wearing one. Since he isn't, she claws gently instead, careful of nails, pressing only hard enough to leave the briefest of impressions around that star on his chest. ]

Mmm. Different. Maybe not better. We'll have to compare to see.

[staysail]

[He resists, only just, and gives a moment of thought.]

All right. You've convinced me. Mountains after this.

[And then he leans down to kiss her again. It's a contortion to do it, but he manages, the light little scratches tingling against his skin and the sun shining down on them both. It's a good feeling. Then again, kissing Yseult is always a good feeling, so that helps.]

[hassaran]

[ She catches a hand high on his side instead this time, fingertips pressed into muscle to help hold this twisted pose. Long enough for an angling of her head to meet him, lips parted on a flicker of tongue, a little demi-crescendo of intensity that ramps up only to a drop as she draws back. ]

Are you auditioning to be a circus contortionist?

[staysail]

[He's not satisfied. But he has to give up, or risk twisting his neck into this horrible shape forever; with a little sigh, he sits back.]

You tell me, circus queen. Would I get in? Think I need a bit more practice myself, but you're the expert here.

[hassaran]

Mmm, I don't know. [ For a moment she lies back too, face tipped up to the sky, then shifts to her knees and sets one on his other side, nudging him onto his back. ] I'm sure you have better skills than that. Fire-breathing? Tumbling? You could learn the trapeze, that's not so different than climbing about rigging.