MOD PLOT ↠ The Darkest Realms of Dream, Part II

[faderifting]

WHO: Open
WHAT: A dreamy conclusion.
WHEN: Wintermarch 20, 9:47
WHERE: The Fade, Kirkwall
NOTES: Please use content warnings in your comment subject lines as appropriate.

THE JOURNEY

The pull to Skyhold becomes undeniable. Whatever justification is necessary to get people onto the road the dream makes real, whether that's planting an idea in their head or having a message arrive drawing them to the area or having them wake up and find themselves in an onion cart halfway up the mountain. The dream will do its best to smooth over the gaps between conflicting stories and the strangeness of everyone heading that way at once until they're all well underway.

At first, the journey seems normal (in the context of the dreamworld they're in), with the sort of mundane dangers faced by all travelers: wild animals, bad weather, brigands, and in the future where Corypheus has won, enemy patrols. But as they get nearer to the mountains, the trip grows more dangerous. More wild animals—and perhaps now they're infected with red lyrium or Fade-touched. More bad weather, perhaps almost supernaturally so. More enemy forces hunting them, ambushing them, barring the way up into the Frostbacks.

As they get into the mountains the opposition to their journey will become increasingly improbable. Hordes of beasts, entire enemy brigades that have no reason to be where they are, a necromancer coincidentally located atop an ancient cemetery hidden beneath the ice, a rift spontaneously opening to spew demons in their path, darkspawn clawing up out of the ground, a random Qun attack thousands of miles from their front, a dragon appearing out of nowhere. More and more, it will become obvious that things are not what they seem, and that something—some larger force—is trying to prevent them from reaching Skyhold.

HAVEN

No matter where people came from or when they left, they will all arrive on the road into the mountains at roughly the same time. Not precisely, but near enough that they'll begin to encounter others making the same journey. And whether they are attempting to reach Skyhold from the East or the West, they'll find themselves in the ruins of Haven first, converging with the entire group. In the world where the Inquisitor defeated Corypheus, the village is home to a monument to those who were lost when Corypheus' forces first attacked, with evidence of a steady stream of recent pilgrimages—though presently no pilgrims—to pay their respects. In the world where Corypheus dominates, a lifesize dragon has been constructed from bones, some of them human, to stand triumphant over the ruins.

Once they press past this point, taking much the same route once used to lead Haven's refugees to Skyhold, the dreams will begin to unravel. The two dreamworlds may begin to overlap and merge in confusing ways that fuel awareness that the dreams are dreams. People from one dream may step into the woods to forage and encounter people from the other dream there to do the same thing. A person who has experienced both dreams may find that they begin to bleed together, leaving them certain of one history in one moment and of another the next, and increasingly unsure about which of their conflicting sets of memories—if either—is real.* The gaps in memories will also become increasingly apparent, as will the strange coincidence of all of them heading to Skyhold at once for very different reasons.

As people gain awareness that they are in a dream, they may find that they gain more control over the dreamworld. Non-mages may find themselves capable of impossible feats, like willing a storm into being to push enemies back, or speaking to animals to learn the enemy's movements. Mages may find that the normal boundaries on magic have been stretched, and spells that might once have been beyond their power no longer are. Their newfound capabilities do have limits, though: their enemies grow in strength to match them and cannot simply be wished away, and the major threats that more and more clog their path are still too strong to be beaten by any one person alone.

The last leg of the journey up to Skyhold will be the most difficult yet, as difficult as it has ever been. The paths are even steeper and rockier than anyone remembers, in places appearing as if they've been deliberately heaved about and strewn with boulders in an attempt to narrow the way. Surely so much of the road wasn't treacherous goat paths along the edge of precipitous drops before? And if that wasn't enough, while the enemy forces have receded here there comes in their wake a blizzard of tremendous strength, clouds blotting out the sun, the way lit only by the occasional crack of lightning. Snow lashes the rocks and wind screams through the passes, ice slicking every stone, as if nature itself is trying to throw them from the mountain. While it might normally be wisest to hunker down, they will all somehow know that this is not a storm that can be waited out and the only course is to press onward through it to the top.

OOC | * Characters from one dreamworld won't meet the other version of themselves face to face. There's only one consciousness in the dream per person, in one 'body'. They may switch back and forth between dream versions, or lose one version entirely, or begin to muddle their memories and personalities together, or drop them both when they become fully aware of the fact that they're dreaming, but the two versions will never coexist as separate entities at the same moment.

SKYHOLD

They will know when they've reached their destination because just as suddenly as it began, the storm ceases. The tranquility is as abrupt as walking through a door: one moment they are in the howling heart of the blizzard, and in the next step they are beyond it. The air is cold but still, the sky clouded but calm, the path across the great bridge to the main gate clear of snow.

Skyhold would be a striking sight at any time, perched atop its peak against a backdrop of stark white mountaintops, but in these dreams, it's ethereal. The stones have a faint luminescence, like a smooth pond bathed in moonlight, that makes it stand out clearly against the night sky. No windows or braziers are lit, and the valley around it is still. The walls are unguarded and the portcullis open in an invitation they can't bring themselves to refuse.

As they approach, they'll find themselves able to call on memories from both dreamworlds at once—while the gaps in their memories of the years prior to the last month grow. And memories of the true world, one where it's Wintermarch 9:47, may begin to reemerge and solidify, no longer a future that will never arise nor a past that's been left far behind them. By the time they reach the Great Hall, yesterday may feel like as many as three different days, each memory as clear and vivid as the others.

Once inside the walls, the castle grows still more dreamlike. A great tree grows out of the far corner where the War Room ought to be, its massive trunk somehow coexisting with the walls around it, its canopy broad enough to stretch into the Great Hall. The building's form doesn't seem wholly fixed in time—one moment it will appear to be the Skyhold of the Inquisition, in another, one might instead see a glimpse of the ruin it was before the Inquisition arrived, or a bare mountain peak with only a few foundation stones laid, or even an ancient elven temple built around that great tree. There are remnants too of those who have lived and work here in ages past: a flicker of movement in the corner of an eye might be the ghostly shape of an ancient elf or a dwarf lord or a Fereldan mason, or even someone in Inquisition uniform. Attempts to interact with these apparitions will fail, as they continue on about their routines, incorporeal and unaware, vanishing again as soon as they're out of sight.

The only exception is a spirit in the Great Hall, waiting for them.

AFTERMATH

When they wake in the Gallows, it is Wintermarch 21, 9:47, and nothing in the world—outside their own heads—has fundamentally changed from when they went to sleep.

OOC | It will feel like a month has passed at most, similar to how rifters wake up from their canon updates. They will only remember that month-long span of the dream itself, not the years of history that led up to that point. Essentially, they may wake up from the dream and remember "so back when the Inquisition fell I turned assassin and killed a bunch of people," but they'll only be remembering that in the dream this fact was true; they won't remember a years-long period in which they became an assassin, the assassin skills they supposedly learned, or the act of killing those people.

As is the manner of dreams, memories may be fuzzy or disjointed, and some things may stick in the mind more clearly and vividly than others. Anyone who interacts with the Herald spirit (or witnesses others doing so) will find these memories particularly clear and strong.

Comments

Colin | OTA

[keenly]

I. The Journey

-Future AU-

All he knows is that they couldn't stay where they were. Despite knowing what he knows, he doesn't make the connection between that and this. The gaps in his memory seem just as benign as before. He travels the road from the marshes with everyone else, assuming when he saw everyone packing up to go that the enemy was finally coming for their base. It's not until they're nearly at Haven before it occurs to him to think of whether or not this is unusual. He looks at whoever is closest to him.

"What are we doing, exactly?"

-Herald AU-

Was it a hurricane? Either way, Colin is aboard a sloop, uncomfortably reminded of his days as a purser for a merchantman. Apparently they're headed for Jader, then hiking up to Skyhold, so it probably has something to do with the Inquisitor. He spends as much time up on deck as possible to avoid feeling trapped, but when even that starts not to work, he looks at the person by him and smiles.

"Want to see something? Come with me."

Then he's off to the mainmast, climbing the shrouds, clearly expecting you to follow.

II. Haven

"I knew it," Colin says with an odd elation as they walk the road to Skyhold. "I knew this was the Fade. Did you--"

He turns to the person next to him and suddenly looks very confused.

"Who are you?"

III. Skyhold

One of him remembers this place. He wanders it in wonder, looking for his old room, the inn, the garden. The other two of him are somewhat mystified, but all of them are him, so this is a very peculiar feeling. Those who knew him in the false future can note is face is no longer scarred, his nose no longer crooked, his limp completely gone. With all three of him in one, including the memories locked away from him in the waking world, he feels oddly complete. At peace.

He hopes he remembers this feeling when he wakes.

He winds up in the garden, kneeling and weeding as the scenery shifts around him. There are many different Skyholds, but the garden is always there.

IV. Aftermath

He works as normal the next day--the apothecary in the morning, the infirmary in the afternoon. He looks tired, but pensive. If you are working with him, or browsing nearby, or eating close to him in the mess, he offers a tired smile.

"How are you holding up?"

V. Wildcard

[If you'd prefer me to write a starter, let me know.]

ii

[okayimin]

He'll have to look a ways down. Sawbones is pushing through the snow drifts with dogged determination and she is not in the least bit happy about any of this. She glares up at the human.

"Who am I? Who the nugfucking sand are you!" she snaps, because things haven't quite settled and quite frankly she doesn't really know who she is.
she still can't recall if she's Sister Sara of Riftwatch or Midwife Sara of some small nameless hamlet in the depths of Orlais. "I'm a fucking dwarf in the Fade," she settles on outloud, "That's what I am. And it's nugshit, duster."

[keenly]

A blink. "I thought you had to be a casteless dwarf to be called that."

[okayimin]

She huffs primly and tips her chin up at him (which it already is so it's more of a gesture). "Who's the Castelss here. And you didn't answer my questions."

[keenly]

"I thought that was a retort." Colin squirms uncomfortably. He doesn't like conflict at the best of times, let alone when he keeps flashing back and forth between having memories of a life in slavery. "I'm Colin, Sister...D-Dwarf-in-the-Fade."

[okayimin]

"Oh, it's Sawbones," she says, "I haven't been called Sister in years. Or it was yesterday, I can't tell in this blasted place." She eyes their surroundings mutinously, "I shouldn't even be here, but I suppose there's no changing that now." Her glare softens to a frown when she does look back at him, "So, how do we get out?"

[keenly]

"I'm still trying to work out how you got in." This is a lot. Really, a lot. "Though there's a lot of us who--"

He blinks again, and his eyes light with sudden revelation.

"Sister Sara? You were with Riftwatch years ago. Or...last night? We worked together."

Herald I

[altusimperius]

"Excuse me?"

The well-dressed young gentleman Colin addressed looks no more likely to follow him up a mast as he does to have given him the time of day at all, but a lot of strange things are happening today.

[keenly]

There's no spoken reply, just a gesture for the young man to come with him before he keeps climbing.

[altusimperius]

Wrinkling his nose, Benedict-- if that is who he is-- remains in place and watches, rather like one does while watching an especially crazy or dirty person do something ridiculous.

[keenly]

He gets to the topmast before calling down.

"At least you'd be able to say you've done it!" The tone is taunting, but without disdain. It's the last time he tries to encourage this stuck-up, prissy nob to actually do something.

Once he gets to the topgallant yard, he clings to the rigging and carefully keeps his footing, breathing in the sea air, looking all around, then glancing down.

Shit. This is higher than he remembered.

[altusimperius]

"Why the fuck would I care," Bene calls back, with a bewildered little smirk; oh no, he didn't go fooling around in the rigging of the world's most disgusting sailing vessel, what a loss.

"Don't slip," he adds drily, noting the expression on Colin's face.

[keenly]

Colin no longer looks down; instead, he looks toward the horizon before him, still breathing deeply, the wind tugging his hair loose from its ponytail until he just wrests it free. It's going to be a huge mess when he gets down, but he doesn't mind for now.

The temptation to let go of the rigging is real, after he relaxes. The more connected he is to the ship, the more he is aware he's going to have to go back down to the berth deck soon. Of course it's a stupid idea unless one can fly, so he keeps hold and takes what he can get for as long as he can have it.

When it gets too cold, he begins his careful descent. Feet back on the deck, he begins the process of finger-combing his hair smooth again.

"Fancy shoes have no traction?" he asks nonchalantly.

skyhold's garden

[clawings]

The inner-city kid in Erik is always drawn to gardens, the wild taken and tamed for use but also just allowed to grow in a way a kid who grew up in apartments in Oakland will never not find fascinating. That's how he ends up here, trying to sort out a series of memories that barely make sense separately, much less intertwined in his brain the way they are now. Years of life piled on top of just months on top of just days.

It's cold, here, in a different way from Kirkwall. More biting, more snow. Erik is bundled when he comes into the garden and finds Colin there. "Whoops. Didn't know someone was workin' out here."

[keenly]

Colin looks up from the weeds and looks a bit blank at first, like a startled deer, but then he offers a small smile.

"It's all right. They're not real, anyway. Just some spirit's idea of what weeds are." He stands up and dusts his hands off.

[clawings]

"Is that what's happening?" Erik pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. Magic. Spirits. Invasive dreams. What in the fuck. "Man. Thought I was losing my fuckin' mind, here."

[keenly]

"That's an easy mistake to make, especially here." He glances up at the sky. "And this is a dream most people took for being real. The spirit that brought us here is very special, to create something like this."

[clawings]

"So that mean you from here? Used to this kinda shit?" Back home for Erik, someone talking about spirits and dreams would get a one-way ticket to a very padded room. "We ain't got nothing like this where I come from."

[keenly]

"I mean I'm not a sp--oh." Rifter. "Yes, I'm from here. Ferelden, actually. And I'm a mage, so...pretty used to it. As much as anyone can be. And you're from another world?"

Aftermath

[muckspout]

Edgard comes running in the apothecary and the door slams behind him. At the sound of the slam, he jumps and winces. He turns to look Colin in the face and finds he cannot do it. He looks at the ground, heart sinking and cheeks burning.

He nearly loses his nerve and leaves. He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and makes a little determined nod.

Still not looking at Colin, Edgard speaks uncharacteristically formal. "Need to speak with you. Didn't want to bother you at work, but I wasn't sure where else to--" He trails off.

[keenly]

Colin tenses visibly at the sight of Edgard, though he seems more uncomfortable than angry. Of course, whether it stays that way is going to depend on what Edgard says. Is he going to try to tell Colin why what he did wasn't that bad?

"All right," he says warily.

[muckspout]

Edgard holds his breath, tries to look at Colin again, visibly tense, and then looks down at the floor again. He is going to hate Edgard and why wouldn't he. He deserves it.

"I--" He starts and his voice catches. "I know it isn't good enough, there's nothing I can--" He falters and dares a look up at Colin when his voice fails. "can't tell you how sorry I am." He swallows and wants to run away, but he makes himself stand still. He deserves this.

[keenly]

Well, he hasn't made excuses. Still, Colin can't seem to look at him. He can't reconcile what he knows to be fact with what he's feeling right now. He gives an expression that is very nearly an eyeroll.

"It was a dream." A pause as that begins to feel dismissive of both their feelings on the matter. "And it wasn't. The memories you were given that made you that person weren't real, but-but your actions were. And that's...hard to sort out."

[muckspout]

Edgard is silent for a long moment. Finally he speaks,

"don't know how to explain I would never, I would never-"
His voice breaks. A wave rushes over him and his chest gets tight. It's no good. He is useless. He has ruined everything.

"I don't expect you to forgive me and I'm not asking for it. But, I wanted, I needed you to know that I am sorry."

Edgard turns to go.

[keenly]

All right, that does irritate him.

"Stop--jss--hm!" His hand flexes briefly in the air. "Just wait, all right? Give me a chance."