Fade Rift Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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faderift2020-08-22 07:56 pm
faderifting) wrote in faderift2020-08-22 07:56 pm
Entry tags:
- ! mod plot,
- darras rivain,
- derrica,
- edgard,
- ellis,
- gwenaëlle strange,
- james flint,
- john silver,
- julius,
- nell voss,
- val de foncé,
- wysteria de foncé,
- yseult,
- { aleksei ar waslyna o bearhold },
- { athessa },
- { benevenuta thevenet },
- { daisy johnson },
- { dorian pavus },
- { freddie durfort-lacapalette },
- { hugo mercier },
- { ilias fabria },
- { ket perrino },
- { madi },
- { marcoulf de ricart },
- { maud van klerk },
- { poesia },
- { richard dickerson },
- { tony stark },
- { yevdokiya an waslyna o bearhold }
MOD PLOT ↠ A THOUSAND WRONGS
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.
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.
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He makes a jerking-off motion with his hand.
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"There's nothing wrong with having a quick rut, if that's what you want, but in my experience with men, it's far less satisfying. Oh—"
She takes a sharp inhale to voice an idea, but...
"—No, never mind. That's not really a...first-timer kind of thing, I don't think."
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"I guess patience is also going to be part of it," he muses. "It was sort of a revelation to do it at all, you know? I don't know how it feels for a woman, but up the arse? Very painful if you're not careful. Very, very painful. So I was thinking about how it didn't really hurt, while trying not to remember back when it was...you know. Nothing but hurt."
His gaze goes a little distant, one hand coming up to scratch at his throat. What was he saying?
"But I liked...I liked him being part of me. I loved it. And when it felt good, it felt incredible. I want to do it more. A lot more."
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But there again is the importance of taking time to enjoy each other, being patient, glorying in the sensations.
"Patience and practice are gonna be important. Maybe next time instead of trying not to remember the hurt, think more actively about what feels good. Revel in it, if you can," She releases her hold on his hand only to lightly brush her fingertips over his, over the lines of his palm and the delicate skin of his wrist. "The way it feels to touch, and be touched. And try not to worry about whether something seems weird; there's a kind of beauty in honest impulse. And you might end up appreciating something he never thought would be."
Though she is here, her mind is conjuring up memories of elsewhere. Her own bed, the flash of gold in Loxley's eyes and the surprise in his face when she told him they were beautiful. The soft sigh when she trailed her finger across his throat. Derrica's bed, laying entwined and breathing in the scent of expensive bath oils and sweat and sex, pressing sleepy kisses to the valley between her breasts. Deimos' room in Kont-Aar, her back against the door and his hand around her throat, knowing that with one flick of his wrist he could kill her, but feeling in that incongruously gentle brush of his thumb over her lips that he wouldn't.
Athessa pulls her hand away and sits back against the tree.
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A sigh as her hand pulls away. Why is it so hard?
"I just don't want to end up a mess he has to deal with. I don't think it's really occurred to him that that's possible, and I certainly don't think he'd be prepared for something like it. I can think of all sorts of things I want to do to his body, but if something I try sets me off, what then? What if he's scared off?"
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"I dunno. Talk to him and hope for the best, I guess. I really wish I had something better to give you than that, but — well, you know how much of a mess I am. I broke things off with Derrica because I got scared. And then when I thought things were getting better, she told me she just wanted to be friends, and I panicked about that, too. Went completely hysterical in front of Loxley, who I really don't wanna scare off, either.
"But I'm trying to figure things out and let them know that I'm trying to be better. I dunno what more I can do than that. Maybe that's just what we're always gonna have to do. Talk about the uncomfortable things and hope that the other person will understand and keep caring."
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"But it's so harrrrd," he whimpers experimentally, then adds, "Probably a poor choice of words."
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"Leander asked me if I've been slandering him. Then when it turned out I wasn't, he decided he absolutely must learn how to cook from me. So that's. Happening."
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"What."
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He trails off. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you.”
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He seemed cordial enough the last time they spoke, when Leander looked at her fresh scar and they talked of existential crises. But then he seemed to just...shut down, and left.
"I don't understand him."
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"How's he doing with that? How are you doing with that?"
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They fall silent for a short while, finishing off their lunch and enjoying the quiet, the summer breeze, the view of rolling fields beyond the edge of town. It's nice. Athessa could stand to spend more time just enjoying a quiet moment with friends, with no pressing issues to tend to. No brutal architecture looming overhead or gray skies. Watching the wind rustle through the leaves above reminds her:
"Where'd you get the tattoo done? I think I have something I want more than the bird."
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