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

[muckspout]

Edgard puts his hands to his face and covers his eyes. He nods while they're covered. He nods while they're covered. He uncovers them.

"Th-That's what I thought." He says. "I don't though. Hurt people counting on me. At least," Here his voice cracks again. "not on purpose."

He shrugs halfheartedly. "But, yes. Time."

[keenly]

Colin nods. After a moment's hesitation, he asks something else.

"The spirit said we created each of our worlds and situations ourselves. That's something they can do, giving us a space and letting our minds create what it looks like. It's why demons are so tricky--they can look like anything and be in situations that look normal to us. The spirit tried to show us a frightful vision of the future, and our minds complied. So did you, did you know someone like the man you became in the dream?"

[muckspout]

Edgard shifts a little uncomfortably.

"I've known a lot of people like that." He shrugs. He doesn't want to say 'most', but its the word that comes to mind. "Always worry that I'll be like that too. Or that-" and here is the heart of it, "I'll be able to do something and can't or won't."

Something inside Edgard sinks and he starts coughing as a cover.

[keenly]

Another nod. "That's probably why you dreamed it. In a monstrous future, you put yourself in a situation you feared."

[muckspout]

Edgard shrugs and nods. It is an odd thing to have people suddenly aware of your worst nightmare. And Colin-- Edgard realizes the question Colin just asked him and looks at him in alarm.

"You didn't ever--experience something like what you experienced in the dream, did you?" He looks Colin fully in the face, his own faced etched with concern, and then realizes he's asked something very personal and looks away.

[keenly]

"Slavery? No. I wouldn't say my time in the Circle was easy, but it was never slavery. The distinction blurred for mages in this building in the fairly recent past, but I wasn't among them."

He shifts, tucking his hands beneath his arms. It shows he's not comfortable, but not defensive, either.

"Is that what you meant?"

[muckspout]

Edgard frowns. He never really thought too much about mages until very recently. He never really knew one personally.

"It seems difficult." He says, but then remembers the Colin that came after him when he found out what had happened to Benedict. "Mages are...extremely powerful."

[keenly]

"And do you know who teaches mages to control themselves?" Colin asks quietly.

[muckspout]

Edgard inwardly panics at being asked a question about something he knows nothing about. He shakes his head slowly and then responds equally quietly, "No."

[keenly]

"Other mages."

It's oversimplifying the problem, but the Chantry certainly overcomplicates it enough. A small shrug.

"There have to be rules. There have to be non-mages holding the mages accountable. But the vast majority of southern mages--for now--are in agreement that we don't want another Tevinter, and something has to be done to keep people safe--including other mages. But it was to the point where we were just...a curse. The Maker's judgment on a fallen world. A problem to be kept locked away, and used whenever we were useful, and allowed to die when our so-called protectors deemed fit. We weren't people."

[muckspout]

Edgard listens and then let's out a small sigh. He shakes his head.

"Everybody is people. No matter what."

He might not know much about mages, but that is a thing he feels strongly about.

[keenly]

Colin looks deeply unimpressed.

"You would think." He looks away. "Then they treat you so much like a thing that you forget you're people. So maybe in that way I did experience something like slavery before. Someone says 'you're this' or 'you belong to me' and you can't prove otherwise."

[muckspout]

Edgard wants to touch Colin's shoulder in sympathy, but is afraid and stands still in the silence that follows.

"I'm sorry that happened to you." He says eventually. "I don't know what it is to be a mage, but I do know what it is to be seen as less than. You don't deserve that."

[keenly]

A shake of his head. "It's not that they thought I deserved it. Or I should say, very few of them would have said I deserved it. Only one ever did. Rather, they just didn't care. Any more than you care about stepping on a line of ants. They didn't--"

A flash of pain across his face. "They didn't benefit from helping."

And that's the heart of it. He's not really angry about what Edgard did in a dream, he's angry about what people did to him in the waking world. Edgard just reminded him.

[muckspout]

It hurts, but Edgard understands. He knows he deserves to feel this and it will take time. Still, he shuts his eyes a moment, wanting to find some way to show Colin. Landing upon it, he opens his eyes and looks around to make sure they're on their own.

"Have I told you what I did before coming here?"

[keenly]

Colin shakes his head, face having gone quite neutral, gaze still averted.

[muckspout]

"was part of a group. and we--our purpose was to help people, commoners, who nobody was looking out for. Fed them, usually. We did it secretly and sometimes, many times, risked our lives."

Edgard shrugs helplessly.

"didn't benefit from it other than feeling less useless. To be honest things are worse for me because of it." His tone turns fierce. "I am responsible for what I did in the dream, but that man, is not me. He is everything that disgusts me."

Edgard looks at his boots and breathes out.

[keenly]

"So it was your worst nightmare as well as mine." Colin bobs his head. "That's...not unusual."

A pause.

"Don't let Bastien know you're the Black Fox," he says with a little smile. "He'll never leave you alone."

[muckspout]

Edgard has a hint of a smile on his face. "Was not just me. A group. I was hardly anybody."

He starts to turn to go and then-- "But, the Black Fox was rich to begin with, it is entirely different!" He folds his hands over his chest.

[keenly]

"Yes. There's something deeply patronizing about the story. Rich man saves pathetic peasants."

The smile wanes. "Can I ask...why aren't you with them now?"

[muckspout]

Edgard's eyes cloud, he feels a rushing sensation, and he shoves it down. Not here. He inhales slowly through his nose and gives a sad smile.

"They're gone." He says simply. He nods genially at Colin and turns again to leave.

[keenly]

As tempting as it is to call him back, Colin lets him go, knowing he can always ask about it another day. It's starting to become clear as to which of them really needs time.