faderifting: (Default)
Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2021-01-19 10:45 pm

MOD PLOT ↠ The Darkest Realms of Dream, Part II

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.
keenly: (I'll gather myself)

[personal profile] keenly 2021-01-20 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
Colin remembers serving this woman for a short time before the Inquisition dispersed. He hesitates shyly, then dips into a bow.

"Inquisitor." Or. "Herald. Milady. Why are we here?"
Edited 2021-01-20 06:38 (UTC)
okayimin: (fite me sister alice)

Sawbones | OTA

[personal profile] okayimin 2021-01-20 07:56 am (UTC)(link)
1. The Journey; Herald AU

She'd gone to sleep in an exhausted slump, having spent most of the night awake with the most ridiculous birthing she'd ever witnessed. And then she woke up on an onion cart.

Which makes sense, because she's going to Skyhold. Can't reckon on why they'd have any want for an excomunicated Sister turned midwife and medic, but here she is with a letter in her pocket. It didn't have much on it, only telling her to go to Skyhold. She'd stewed on the matter til her curiosity got the better of her.

And that is why she's in the back of an onion cart, which... is apparently the only passage up through the Frostbacks. Something about that doesn't sit quite right, but she doesn't have much time to think on it. The onion cart shudders to an uneasy stop, sending onions tumbling out of their crates and onto Sawbones.

"Stone and shale," she grumbles, shoving produce off and sitting up properly to get her bearings. She looks to the other passenger in the cart (she doesn't exactly know why there's another passenger, the cart's already stuffed full of onions and there's hardly room) and says, "What's happened now?"

2. Haven
a. Herald AU
Well. The monument is impressive at least. She looks about the ruins, hoping to join up with another group, hoping to find any group. Hoping for a familiar face, though she doesn't know how she'd find one here. The Orlesian village she'd come from number barely in the hundreds and if anyone had planned on a trip to Skyhaven, she'd have known.

"Suppose it's some grand tradition to walk up the Frostbacks," she says, mostly to the monument, "If the Herald did it, so can you or some such nonsense." She sighs and fishes a stone out of her pocket to place and the monument. "Stone rest you."

b. A Realization

She is halfway up the mountain in a crowd (or is it just a few? She can't tell anymore and the blasted path is too dangerous to mind who's around) full of increasingly confusing strangers when everything seems to slip sideways. Except that it doesn't. It's just Sawbones, a small dwarven woman with the Casteless brand on her face, dressed in plain traveling clothes. But the people around her aren't strangers... Or they are.

Or they aren't.

Two things couldn't be true at once unless- "It's this nug fucked shit pile again!" she says. Loudly. Hands on her hips and enormously displeased with the world around her. She looks around to see if she might spot the culprit, "I'm a bloody dwarf, for stone's sake!" Her frown deepens, "And I've already done this before!"

3. Skyhold

Sawbones is not pleased.

Her memories are still a bit jumbly and her whole being feels a bit strange, but more importantly there's them here that are her responsibility. And even if she can't keep straight the whos, whys or hows, she's not about to let a little thing like a dream or the Whatever-She-Is seated at the center of the Hall stop her from doing her job.

"Right then," she says, with a great deal of authority for someone so tiny, "Come here. Let me have a look at you before this blasted place sets something else on us."
acreage: (} 063.)

[personal profile] acreage 2021-01-20 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
This one goes straight in for,

"What the hell is going on?"
keenly: (if I could tell the world just one thing)

Colin | OTA

[personal profile] keenly 2021-01-20 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
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.]
acreage: (Default)

james holden

[personal profile] acreage 2021-01-20 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ prompts below! ]
acreage: (} 066.)

dreams + aftermath, OPEN

[personal profile] acreage 2021-01-20 11:07 pm (UTC)(link)
JOURNEY

The mountains are a fucking nightmare. What had been a quiet, snowed over stretch of earth, had become a barrow in the blink of an eye. And then there had been a cackling bastard raising the dead, and they narrowly escape all that —

— and follow a turn in the path, and a large shadow falls across Holden and whoever is with him. It is shaped like a dragon, hissing and roaring, but it has icicles for fangs and bright snow for a body. The eyes are dark, coal-like. It may or may not be a violent snow-dragon.

Holden exhales, looking fucking exhausted, breath crystalizing in the air.

"You have to be goddamn kidding me."

HAVEN

The blizzard is coming down hard, snow accumulating on his shoulders, in his hair, blocking their path. Still, if someone nearby looks cold — and who doesn't? — he'll move to pull off his coat.

"Here, this'll help."

AFTERMATH

How James Holden reacts, waking from a very long dream, remains behind closed doors; some literal, and some metaphorical. Short of anyone banging on his door as he's waking, it'll be a little later in the morning till most people see him.

Possibly, how it happens is:

At some point during the day, doing some task, he says wryly, "I don't know about you, but I couldn't tell you what day it is to save my life."

Or:

[ talk to me for a starter. ]

WILDCARD

[ feel free to hmu with a personalized prompt or request one. for aftermath things, his inbox is also an option if yours would reach out that way, or lmk if you'd like him to reach out! especially for existing/dream cr, he's fairly likely to. ]
keenly: (that we're all okay)

Haven

[personal profile] keenly 2021-01-20 11:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Colin wouldn't ordinarily accept, but his teeth are chattering and his knees are stiff enough he's having a hard time moving forward. Given neither of him thought to bring a coat, he nods and reaches out to accept.

"Th-th-thank you." Once it's on, he pulls it tightly around. "It's n-not even r-real snow," he says in some dismay.
lumelume: (nooo)

Mado | OTA

[personal profile] lumelume 2021-01-21 12:29 am (UTC)(link)
I. Out From Haven

One moment he was somewhere else-- in a tower, in a marsh, who can tell?-- and now Amador is on the side of a mountain with a small cluster of people, a dark winged shape bearing down on them from over the distant peaks.
A scream here, a shout there, and the details of the High Dragon come into greater focus. Releasing his grip on the steep climb, Mado takes a twisting leap, nothing in his head except that he can help, he can do something.

There was no plan for what that Something was, but as his human form quickly merges into one of a similarly shaped dragon, its talons extended forward and grasping for the enemy's wings with a reptile shriek, that's answered quickly enough.
They roll about in the sky, snapping and clawing and beating their great wings. The other travelers, at least, now have some time on their side.

II. Skyhold

With the blending of his memories and awareness of their strange predicament, fear has settled into the heart of Mado, who all at once is rather difficult to find.
His greatest secret being his magic, and having been displaying it unabashedly to any and all for what feels like years but isn't truly, he has all but absconded from the party of Riftwatch pilgrims milling about Skyhold.
A careful eye might spot a little brown fieldmouse curled on a beam and shivering in the cold, watching the proceedings.

III. Awakening

In a similar vein, when the next day starts up in the waking world, Mado is nowhere to be found-- but a little rust-and-white dog digging through some refuse in Lowtown might be familiar to some.
keenly: (to travel the world alone)

II

[personal profile] keenly 2021-01-21 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
It is absolutely frigid up here, though at least it's not snowing. Colin has found some coat or other from somewhere, though, and found it fortunate that he's of average height and therefore encounters more clothes he can fit into. It's long and warm and bottle-green and he wishes he could keep it when he wakes up.

In his search for his friends to see that they've made it all right, he stops by the mouse and gives it a glance. How he knows, he's not sure, but he walks over to it and holds out his hand to let him crawl onto it.
lumelume: (Default)

[personal profile] lumelume 2021-01-21 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
The mouse quails away, at first. Then, after some consideration that perhaps surpasses the usual rodent thought processes, it slowly picks its way over into Colin's hand.

It's cold out here, after all.
keenly: (would fix it all)

[personal profile] keenly 2021-01-21 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
Colin smiles and gently transports the mouse to his coat pocket, keeping his hand in to give the creature a heat source.

"Our little secret, friend," he says quietly before he starts walking again.
okayimin: (fite me sister alice)

Haven

[personal profile] okayimin 2021-01-21 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
"You pull that coat off, I'll saw your blasted fingers off now and not save the frostbite it's time," snaps Sawbones. The snow is deep and soft and nearly up to her chest, which is doing nothing for her already bad temper.

She doesn't remember this human, but he's familiar, in a way she can't place. Trying to puzzle it out makes her head swim and there's more important things happening. Like this human being stupid. She sets her hands on her hips and glares up at him, "We ain't losing anybody on my watch, but we're gonna be down a few limbs if folks start pulling off clothes like that. Who puts a blasted fortress on top of a bloody mountain to begin with!"
okayimin: (fite me sister alice)

ii

[personal profile] okayimin 2021-01-21 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
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: (I'll gather myself)

[personal profile] keenly 2021-01-21 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
A blink. "I thought you had to be a casteless dwarf to be called that."
okayimin: (listen here duster)

[personal profile] okayimin 2021-01-21 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
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: (the dim grey sands with light)

[personal profile] keenly 2021-01-21 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
"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: (Default)

[personal profile] okayimin 2021-01-21 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
"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: ('cause someone must stand up)

[personal profile] keenly 2021-01-21 02:55 am (UTC)(link)
"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."
heirring: ([133])

wysteria | ota

[personal profile] heirring 2021-01-21 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
[[Prose or brackets aokay. Feel free to gently modify/wildcard anything as it suits you.]]

HAVEN
On its own, the interior of the Haven chantry hall--thoroughly shattered in whatever conflict had taken place there and left as a ruin in testament to the might of Corypheus--makes for poor shelter from the blanket of steadily falling snow. But there are tent canvases stretched in defiance of the snow and fires to do battle with the cold, and enough in the way of half surviving fortifications that there are, candidly speaking, far worse places in the world to make camp. Certainly at this point she is learned enough with respect to sleeping in ditches or under trees to be something of an expert on the subject. In fact, were someone to question her on the subject, Wysteria Poppell - rifter and triumphant escaped captive of the Venatori - might suggest that the temporary encampment in Haven possesses something of a dreamlike and elemental perfection. This is exactly what the winter windfall of a struggling rebel force should resemble. This is exactly as battered and bruised and threatened as they all should be.

There are people she must speak to - members of leadership who would like to know where they have been and how they escaped and what considerable uses the Venatori have found for them since their capture - but she is so very tired, and after it's finished Wysteria finds she can recall almost no details of the conversations whatsoever. Instead, they blends together with other necessities such as finding the more hard-worn of her traveling companions warm (enough) accommodation and acquiring something to eat. For a time, the world is fractured and indistinct.

Until it isn't. Until she becomes aware of its finite parts again. Her hands are cold, is the first thing Wysteria thinks. The sky is very pale. The hem of her skirts is black with mud. It's the last one which makes her laugh.

So: there is a young blonde woman wrapped in a heavy traveling cloak who has paused on the footpath. She is heavily laden, a borrowed bear fur clutched in her arms. Her laugh is such a bright, pleasant thing - clear and true like a bell in winter.

AFTERMATH
A clatter of footsteps in the stairwell is the only warning which precedes Wysteria as she twists her way rapidly down the central stairwell of the Gallows' mage tower. She is bound for the Research division's work rooms, three books under one arm and a series of papers clutched in her other hand. 'Harried' might be a fair description; 'positively indecent' might be another, given that she has failed to pin up the great waves of her long hair and is wearing little more than a robe cinched closed over her ruffled sleeping shift. By contract, the heavy field boots in which she is clomping along are comically out of place.

It is, conveniently, the sort of scenario custom made for collisions around blind corners.

WILDCARD
[[throw whatever at me; if you want a bespoke starter, ping me on plurk or disco and I can make it happen.]]
Edited 2021-01-21 05:40 (UTC)
okayimin: (still waiting for the sun to fall)

[personal profile] okayimin 2021-01-21 06:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's happened before," she says and shoots a look at the sky that's full of disgust and irritation.

Then she blinks.

"Was I? No, that's not right, I am." She rubs her head and says, "No, yes, I remember you, Colin. You've a good hand at apothecary and you run the clinic in Darktown."
okayimin: (Default)

Haven

[personal profile] okayimin 2021-01-21 06:45 pm (UTC)(link)
The landscape of dreams is a slippery thing. Sawbones is a country doctor and then a Chantry sister and then perhaps nothing at all, because dwarves have no business with the Fade. Regardless of the machinations of the demons and spirits, Sawbones is still a Sawbones.

She has a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a kettle in the other. She has no idea where it came from, only that it's miserably cold and there's miserable people and the least they can have at the moment is a cup of tea. She holds it out to the laughing young woman.

"Take this," she says firmly, "And let's get you by a fire. You look a mess."
heirring: ([095])

[personal profile] heirring 2021-01-21 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
It's the sort of thing to make a person laugh a little harder, isn't it? A hot cup of tea, manifesting all at once in the company of someone concerned enough to be fussy.

What a thoroughly charming novelty.

"My hands are full," Wysteria begs off, in high spirits despite the biting cold and the mud and everything in the entire world. The heavy bear skin does, to her credit, require both her arms to haul around. "But I'll sit by the fire for just a moment, and we may compare notes. I don't believe my skirts can be improved."

Page 1 of 43