faderift | And we are far, far from home

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And we are far, far from home

WHO: Araceli Bonaventura; open
WHAT: Parkour lessons part 2; writing letters home in the library; gals being pals with Korrin and Sina
WHEN: early Wintermarch;
WHERE: Skyhold; various locations
NOTES: Tavern thread is closed to Korrin and Sina but feel free to see and/or hear them

parkour;
It's been too long since she last organised real parkour lessons and so for a few days there have been notices tacked up on the bulletin board regularly to announce the start of a new batch of lessons. The ropes are gone now that she's more sure of her teaching skills and her place within Skyhold, and there are a few more places with bales of hay beneath different chunks of the battlements now, not just that first crumbling section of the wall down by the stables.

The warm up is still mandatory though, and for a newbie, she'll still insist on watching you fall though this time it's only from the fence and into the hay, and no, she doesn't care if you feel stupid, you'll feel more stupid if you fell badly and broke a few bones for your trouble.

library;
When the rift pulled her through from Castileos, it was still summer, seemingly endless days spent longing for a breeze to blow in off the seas, the markets packed, a riot of noise and colour. Even the smell of the fish market carried on the salt air is something she longs for as finds a seat somewhere quiet in the library, a neat stack of letters to one side of her as she stretches out her right arm with a muttered curse, trying to ease the cramp in it. A smear of ink stretches up from her cheek, across and over her nose. If someone were to read over her shoulder, they'd find letters addressed mainly to her mother, her father, or to a woman named Leandra more than to anyone else, all of them recounting bits and pieces of what she's seen here, what she's learned.

No one can say that a letter shoved through a rift won't go back home.

tavern;
Now it's not a crime if a person doesn't drink but sometimes a drink is good to help your forget, and well, Korrin likes drinking, Araceli likes drinking but Sina, well Sina might have told Araceli once that she's hasn't had a drink. Not of anything that Araceli or Korrin are used to, that's for certain. So what is a good friend to do? Well if they're Araceli Bonaventura then they call in Korrin Ataash who just so happens to be the person who introduced her to the strongest alcohol she'd ever tasted in her life.

Not that it's on offer for Sina. Babysteps. Babysteps and watering it down to an almost criminal degree but such is life.

wildcard;
[Feel free to have spotted her elsewhere, for whatever reasons you'd like!]

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"I am shamefully far behind, my hand is going to fall off before I'm done recounting my adventures thus far."

From now on, she's going to make time, even if it's just a little note here and there, almost like a journal but addressed to the people she misses whenever she sees or hears something they'd like. All the letters have the same flowing script, extra twirls and flourishes where they're perhaps not exactly needed but it's all still very neat, though the top one is simply addressed to papa.

"Trying to recount what it's like to live so far from the sea to a man who has never spent a single night away from his ship though...that challenge might best me." The letter is revealed with a frown, the usual mentions of snow, how high up they are then nothing beyond a very rough sketch for scale. "The only mountains he's seen are from a deck and miles away."

"Much like trying to explain the sea to someone who's only ever seen the mountains," she replies with a crook to her lips. "The closest I can remember was Lake Calenhad. I still don't think I've seen it properly. Words probably couldn't do it justice. That's the way of it. Some experiences there simply aren't words for."

But it's impressive that she tries. Even if it's just a simple account, writing to family must provide some sense of comfort, of connection to the world that poor young woman's left behind.

“If there’s a chance, you should try. For all that it can be wild, the tide still goes in and out, the waves wash up over the shore and there’s nothing like watching the sun disappear beneath it when it’s all you can see.” That’s what she’s trying to explain better in the letter, how the snow reflects the sun, how quiet and still everything is apart from the bustling of the hold. “My father would never give up the sea for anything, the ship he sails is the ship he was born on, he probably plans for it to be the ship he dies on.

All the people here? He would always be reminding you - through the crew that go further on land than him - that the sea is in your blood too. He’d have found himself a ship to organise some voyage or other for everyone. Only the heavy armour would be banned.” Although there are so many people here that she’s seen always clad that way that they might actually manage to look naked without it. “All the same, the magic stuff? I think they’d need to see that themselves.”

"How very romantic." Mia's lip curves, though imagining is as good as it gets. She doubts there'll be much occasion for her to ever see the ocean, but to hear the girl describe it is almost as good as.

"Believe me, it's quite the same for us common folk. Our lives were quite ordinary for the longest time. It seemed like something that could only come out of fairy tale, save that we knew mages existed. There was no secret about the Circles, and the Templars had to have someone to hunt. There were far too many of them otherwise."

"Thedas is lacking in that department. Only my opinion but..." There's not much romance in a knife to the ribs, a wild animal to the throat or a demon to the everything. No one's said much but the seas here are likely full of tales of hungry angry beings instead of what she's used to.

"I've met so many mages here," she admits quietly, moving her stack of papers just out of the way so she won't crumple them when she leans forward, "that I forget most people won't have ever met one. Not a grown one at any rate. It must scare them if the first thing they see of them is fire and lightning, it was saving me when I came here, but I heard stories." Or bits and pieces of stories about just how bad it really was out in the world.

"Oh, I'd say you've just yet to see it's romantic side. For all the hardships we face, we are a passionate people all, in our own way." Mia chuckles. "Save for me. Haven't a romantic bone in my body, I'm afraid."

Rather than continue to hover, the older woman finds a chair nearby and tugs it out, draping downwards to continue to listen. Her expression sobers somewhat after a moment. "Mages...have always been in a difficult position in our world. Some only see the threat they pose, or the power they wield. Some treat them as no better than slaves or weapons, some as prisoners whose crime was simply being born. In some lands, they rule as tyrant kings." Her hands float upwards helplessly. "It's not an easy thing to explain to anyone who hasn't lived in these lands and see it all first hand."

"Are you entirely sure there isn't one? It could be hidden away somewhere just waiting for the right person to find it." Passion is more important than romance in the end though because a life lived with passion is full of stories and satisfaction.

"It's like two parts of me fighting - the thief knows how much she did not wish to be caged, to be presumed guilty first," nevermind that she was guilty, it's still the principle of the thing. "Yet there's another part of me that knows a threat, and that it is best taken care of but they are such extremes. So much here is one or the other, just chopped down the middle and you choose a side and stick to it. I could never do my job living such a way."

"The right person did, dear. And took it with him."

She smiles thinly, and swiftly shifts topics. As it often does when magic enters conversation. "You're not the first to feel that conflict. And I feel we've all seen enough of what can happen purely by accident, by no fault of anyone, when a mage is left to their own devices."

No one is likely to forget the night of the abomination any time soon, she's certain. But her expression softens. "Things are unlikely to return to the state they were before, in any case. Perhaps something better will come of this shift in power. It all depends on what happens if and when the Chantry reforms, and a new Divine is chosen."

“Ah, forgive me.”

If she knew Mia better she would pry - that’s an invitation in Castileos - but she gives her an apologetic smile, letting her focus turn to the mages again. “And there’s probably no other way. Well, there’s this way, the Dalish way, and I suppose the Tevinter way if it could be pulled away from the history but that wouldn’t be so easy here.”

Even having the other side of the coin explained to her, it still makes it more difficult to actually get the full truth, if such a thing even exists.

“To change but one country is difficult enough, I’ve seen that - if I go home I will still be seeing that. The people who like it how it is have a vested interest in making as many people as possible see that it’s good as it is. That way they get to point at the people and say ‘but look, they are happy and now they’re not, even if it’s a noble exploiting them, someone who doesn’t care unless they can use them like a pawn on the board. And councils, always councils and that way they talk, it makes me want a bath after hearing their ‘suggestions’.”

"Thank the Maker neither of us are politicians," she murmurs dryly. "Or mages, for that matter. I don't envy the chaos that is yet before them before anything is decided."

But it's all as she says. The status quo means certain people benefit, and those people would love nothing more than for things to continue as they always have, whether or not it truly benefited all.

"But it sounds as though you've already heard a great deal. Tell me. What do you think of it? What would you do, if you had a say in the matter?" Her hands folded primly in her lap, her dark gaze attentive.

"I don't know, I would like to be able to do that thing where they move faster than the eye can see, the fade step. Or to have lightning, wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to just summon something from nowhere?" The fade step part would at least be useful for her and she'd have the grace to control it if she could. As it is however, that's not in her future. "I would take the politics if I could do that."

Except she does hear enough and she's seen Korrin immediately after mage council meetings when she lurks around waiting for her, but she can put up with unpleasant things to get her views across.

It's not a question she's been asked before, maybe because her friends are mages or friendly to them and not obviously allied with Templars in any fashion. So she takes the time to consider it before setting her hands on the table, fingers drumming idly. "I would not assign them such strict jailers because I know how it feels to have the eyes of guards searching for me, it isn't good when a person has to make themselves smaller, less themselves. They would be subject to the same laws as those who lift a weapon - if used against a person for no reason, then punishment. If used in self-defence then every attempt should be made to investigate but they should strive to be impartial.

"That your religion is so tied to all things is what I find troubling, there is so much that seems so open to interpretation and that is where the problems can begin to fester. But if I had to learn how to wield a blade, and if I had to go to lessons then set the Circles up in such a way. Don't deny them access to their families if they wish to see it. Allow the Chantry to be more than just human women and a few men." There's hesitation throughout because she isn't always entirely sure if she has everything quite straight with her understanding but it's always the divisions. The invisible battelines. It's simpler to love a thing like the sea and the moon, to see aspects of it in a person, to know that all are embraced equally.

It sounds so simple, to hear her say it, but impossible to imagine. The Chantry was woven into everything they did, and the traditions so rigid they may as well have been cast in stone. Things were changing, but how much could be a good thing? How much before the unfamiliarity caused dissent, or abandonment of the faith?

Still, she gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "I agree that separation from their families and loved ones seems unnecessary...they are isolated enough as it is. But not all templars wish to function as jailers."

Both brows perked upwards as her gaze lifted once more. "My brother was a templar, did you know? Wanted nothing more when he was a child."

"One of the mages told me that Templars rarely leave their Circles either, unless it happens to be for Chantry business or to find someone. That their fellow Templars are their family." In that way it had almost sounded like a crew but to be tethered to one place and to draw lines between it all, that's the sticking point as it so often is with her.

"I confess, I haven't spoken with any to my knowledge beyond Stannis Baratheon, he left a rather sour taste in the mouth, I have avoided them since." There's a touch of guilt in the admission, because she's not singled out as a mage is though having so many among her friends has coloured her feelings. Still, there's something rather intimidating about them and what they can do that has her keeping her distance for now.

She's surprised by what she hears though because managing to miss something like that is enough to have her wanting to kick herself. "He was? I thought he must have been a soldier in one of the armies to be in such a position here. Not that I think he is underqualified but to go from Templar to this? It must be quite the change."

"A necessary one, I think. For all the good the templars can do, things have become..."

She chuckles mirthlessly, one hand fluttering up in the air in a 'well, see' gesture.

"Complicated might be a kind word. Still. Most of the world believe them to be an order of good and just men, but things are rarely ever that simple. Fear will goade people into making foolish choices, and not all fears are unjustified. For either side. But the Inquisition is doing much to allay some of those fears. Provided the templars and mages can work together."

Here her eyes go wide, her mouth thin. Wouldn't that be nice?

“If the world was simple it would be a very dull thing but your sort of complicated is far bloodier than ours, though maybe solving more problems with duels in public or over games of cards and dice makes it easier. There are few who stand on ceremony, and our queen always extends audiences for the airing of grievances.”

There’s a brief pause, because of what Mia has said of her own brother, and Araceli doesn’t wish to offend. “Power is an easy thing to abuse, especially when there are trappings that come with it like defending a people. Even when many believe a thing, that does not make it right, does not even make it true. Maybe if they can approach this as equals attempting to create some sort of a partnership, a joint venture? They are all here to help, but some of what I have heard seems to be retreading the same steps that brought your world to this in the first place.”

A mess. All of it is a mess, it’s just that everyone seems so set and so damn stubborn she wants to shake most of the parties involved. “How do you stand it? I mean some of this has to come to you as well given your position and your brother.”

"I keep myself from those decisions as much as possible. My concerns lay with those caught in the crossfire. When two larger ideals fight, it is always the common people that suffer for it."

She sighs heavily, brushing an errant strand of hair from her face. "Cullen sees far more of this than I do, and I know he has his own views. He lived in the Circles, after all, and what he's seen would haunt any man who lived through it. I wouldn't doubt he fears those same mistakes coming to pass once more. As to how he stands it..."

At that, she pauses, before a thin smile tugs mirthlessly at her lips. "It is what we do. We endure."

"The nobles will complain that their catch is not the seasonal best or that they must settle for not buying new for the year, at the same time too many of us wonder how far we can stretch a single meal. There is a good reason I was a thief." There were honest ways to make a living, that's true, she would have been welcome on any ship, found a profession, even in a house much like her mother's but nothing supported so many people as her thefts did. Even if she had not found it so challenging, so thrilling, once she learned the worth of things it wasn't hard to make that choice.

"The past can be an anchor, one that holds us fast and keeps us from harm in a storm, but an anchor can weigh us down too," she murmurs softly, absently setting her hand on her arm, over where a tattoo of just that is half visible from how her sleeve sits. "You would make a great quartermaster aboard a ship I think, that is how they must see it. The ones with a stronger spine than even the captain at times when the captain is weary and cannot see through the storm."

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And we are far, far from home

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