faderift | (closed) I found my laugh and took a lifetime to perfect it

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(closed) I found my laugh and took a lifetime to perfect it

WHO: Herian, Stephen, Cosima, Kostos and Tav who was always here
WHAT: visiting a rift for Tranquility reasons (+ corgi logistics)
WHEN: gestures vaguely to make it work for everyone
WHERE: Hissing Wastes
NOTES: CW forced tranquility stuff

The Hissing Wastes, so named for the hisses of displeasure that travelers make as their boots sink and slide in the sand as they attempt to ascend the rolling dunes, and when the sunlight glares off the sand.

Herian had indicated Franklin should stay at the Gallows, however, any effort to separate him from her once preparations commenced were not particularly effective. Though she does not feel, her disapproval of his attendance and its impracticality was clear, and... yet. Once he has run enough for the day, and when the sun's height in the sky makes the sand like to burn his paws, he is hoisted into something like a backpack, content in his own personal shade. His head pokes out whenever someone drifts close enough by that he might get pats, huffing dramatically if they are focused on getting up yet another hill and dropping back into the pack.

She hasn't complained but, somehow, her affect seems even flatter when finally they make camp. The corgi, for his part, immediately bee-lines to every other member of the party to offer morale and relieve them of any treats that might be weighing them down in the journey.

The next morning, there is only a short distance to traverse to the oasis. The serenity of the location is at odds with the sickly green light and bursts of noise.

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It would be soothing, she supposes, to be here under other circumstances. Whether those circumstances were, "without the rift over the spring," or "with the capacity to feel soothed." Herian looks down the stretch of slope remaining between them and the proximity that Kostos had indicated was necessary to grant her that temporary restoration.

From what she has gathered, from what fragments she has been trying to stitch together of lessons that were rooted in emotional growth, the constant questioning of people's willingness to help or be present or [ fill in the blank ] could be condescending, manipulative or destructive in other ways. It was more difficult to grasp, when to ask and get confirmation is logical, but she knows the lesson was learned. She has some awareness of it, even she cannot follow it. So, Herian does not ask Cosima if she is sure, or advise that she can change her mind.

Instead, she holds her fist out to her side, towards Cosima, for a fist bump. "Ready?"

"Doctor."

Herian's back is to the sun, her figure eclipsing it as she looks down at him. Despite the heat, Franklin has taken advantage of the Doctor needing to sit, even if it had only been for a moment, and sprawled across his lap. Tongue lolling out, enjoying the sunshine, and shedding orange and white fur across Stephen's lap. Actually, across all of him, somehow. "I see you have been accosted by my impractical companion."

Expression blank, Herian directs her attention towards the rift. "Best we make our way."

"Why do you object to being determined to be kind?"

It's more than like a rude question to ask someone, when the necessity of their insight and proximity would make them departing rather difficult. Herian is unfazed, although it is not as though anything can faze her, presently.

"Is it because you think it beneath you?"

The sand squeaks underfoot, the pale surface of it throwing the sun's glare back up at them, as they continue their progress towards the oasis with the rift. The perfect time to ask, apparently.

They've not yet made it to the site of their next camp, and while Herian cannot feel so as to be 'determined,' she is locked onto that necessity. The same cannot be said of Franklin, who has found a spot of shade and dramatically flopped down.

Herian looks down at the dog, arms hanging at her side as she takes in the situation. He has already ignored being called to come along. "It was your insistence that you not be left at the Gallows, and time is not a luxury we are party to."

Though it briefly appears he has listened to reason, Franklin's betrayal is swift; he walks over to Tav, no matter the task he might be engaged it, and lay down on his foot. Herian is on the receiving end of some bombastic canine sideeye, before the small dog closes his eyes.

"Ah."

Tav is busy collecting seeds from the Witherstalk when Franklin approaches him. The dog lays down on his foot and Tav can't help but smile.

"Tired, Franklin?" he asks the canine as he finishes up his collection and tugs his pack from his back.

Just as he's placing the seeds in a safe pocket, he realizes that he's just enough room to possibly carry the corgi in his pack.

He looks up to Herian, "Would you like me to carry him? I've room."

Even knowing Herian isn't capable of feeling affection as such, presently, it's not lost on her that Herian thinks it worth offering something like a joke. Or a callback, maybe more accurately. Something done for Cosima's comfort, even if by rote.

She returns the fist bump, lightly. There's no indication in her manner that, in these circumstances, the question as asked is anything unwelcome, or even unexpected.

"Ready enough. Are you ready?" Cosima's there for support (and to help close the Rift, of course). Herian's the one about to navigate the complicated part, and Cosima's more tuned into Herian's demeanor than worried about her own reaction for now.

"I am."

Almost immediate, the mental checklist worked through many times over, a departure from the drawn out pauses of assessment that have wrapped about so many of their interactions. Even so, her fist stays a moment or two past Cosima withdrawing her own, only dropping when she begins the descent towards the rift.

"It may be necessary for you to enquire about the revoking of Tranquility, if I am without focus."

“Impractical, but we forgive him for it,” Strange says, scratching the dog under his chin. There’s another side of the doctor that seems to come out around Gwenaëlle’s menagerie, and now with Franklin as well: the man is gentler, more obliging and patient.

The rift is open in the distance, but there’s no urgency to reach it besides their task at hand. It won’t close on its own. Even if it winds up spitting demons, there’s no settlement for miles around in the Hissing Wastes; it’s barren and desolate and no civilians will be in danger. All things told, it’s a good location to run the experiment at their own pace, whenever they’re ready.

Amiable despite the tension of the day, Strange scoops up Franklin and deposits him on his own four feet, confessing, “Do y’know, part of me considered being a veterinarian for a while? A doctor but for animals. They’re loyal, unquestionably devoted; better than people, really. I believe it says something that he’s still so attached to you.”

"If animals are inclined to loyalty, does it not mean less for his loyalty to be sustained?"

Herian has attempted to approach situations with logic, to learn and assess. What is beneficial for approaching anatomic study has been less successful when it concerns things that may not be useful. Even her attempts on self-reflection are less consistent as more time passing under Tranquility. There are attempts, though their relevance and value, the logic of granting them time and energy, diminishes.

"He recognises me as a source of food and shelter. That is the attachment, more than like." A moment, and: "Did you determine it more valuable to become a doctor?"

Despite his boots rising nearly to his knees, there's sand in them—the second most annoying thing happening to him right now. The first is Herian's question.

"No," he says.

Yes might have been the simpler answer. A shortcut to a conclusion that otherwise might require talking longer. But lying to the Tranquil has always felt wrong. Maybe not for any good reason. They're not dogs or children incapable of poking holes in logic or detecting sarcasm. It's just still wrong somehow.

He tries changing the subject instead.

"If you think about who you were before this—can you think of any reason she might not want this reversed?"

"Will do. Is there anything else you want me to be sure to raise, if you find the experience a bit overwhelming?" That mental checklist's existence, if not its contents, is clear and Cosima is willing to take on whatever items Herian will hand over. This is going to be complicated, but more for one of them than the other.

A practical question, and one she has considered, even if that reflection could have been more productive. A few weeks ago she might have had a longer list of things that appeared relevant to ask about. Instead, time is as a river's current pulling a boat from the banks, putting a greater distance between her Tranquil self, and the relevance and value of memory. Whether or not something would have sparked some response in her does no longer emerges so easily.

"What action I would take regarding those who rendered me thus. No other matters are of relevance." For all the analysis and effort made, she does not grasp the possibility of how jarring or difficult a question that might be in such a time.

Herian takes the first step down to the rift, before pausing once more. "I trust your judgment, should you deem some other matter meriting attention."

And so she moves on, walking steadily towards the gash of light, unfazed by the significance of of the approach. The air cracks, like the expanding and splitting of wood in a fire. Herian's skin is washed with the green and yellow light is familiar in the landscape of Thedas after so many years, in ways none of them might have imagined in years past.

Familiar. Familiar. Blooming from an abstract concept to something she can feel in a rush, the burst of blood into bruising.

She gasps with the force of it, a sharp breath that doesn't feel like it brought in any air.

Edited 2024-11-22 17:59 (UTC)

This was never going to be easy, but Cosima's braced for it, at least as much as she can be. She follows Herian down to the rift, her left palm tingling as it usually does when she gets the anchor shard near enough to one. The telltale green glow is there, too, but neither she nor Herian is paying attention to that under the circumstances.

Instead, Cosima stays close, not crowding Herian but near enough to reach out for. A step or two away. When Herian gasps, Cosima's instinct is to bridge that gap, but she holds off at first. "Herian? Talk to me. What's happening?" She might have asked what are you feeling, once, but she's habitually adjusted her language now. In this context, she supposes that question would presume something. She doesn't know how long this will take or what it will look like, but encouraging Herian to talk can only help.

The sheer strangeness of Cosima's presence shifting from a data point to something sparking gratitude and relief is beyond her articulation.

The collision of all that she might have felt these past few months is like the crash of a wave. Even with that force, Herian herself to keep standing upright - not for posture or dignity, she rests her hands stop her head to keep her lungs extended, help her keep breathing easily.

"It-- worked."

It takes Herian a second to look at Cosima. Blinking a few times, overwhelm apparent, conflicting emotions tugging at her expression. Something that might have been the twinge of a smile, or a pained grimace. She exhales, breath shaking in the ambiguous space between a sob and laughter. Uncertain, unsteady, but present and herself for the first at time in months.

"It worked."

More relief, with something else clawing at the edges of it.

Edited (Yeeting the first version bc it displeased me ) 2024-11-25 06:48 (UTC)

Franklin, for his part, wiggles into the sand, sniffing curiously at Tav's foots.

"Will that jeopardise your ability to collect specimens? He should not impede your own mission hence."

Herian asks, just before the corgi rolls into his back in the hopes of belly rubs. His tongue lolls out in a goofy, canine smile, that only seems all the sillier in contrast to his owner's flat affect.

Working with Herian has been such an odd experience; Strange doesn’t consider himself a particularly sentimental man, but next to her, he now seems downright emotional in comparison.

“Anyone at Riftwatch can feed and shelter him. Hell, I feed him, and he’s not as attached to me as he is to you. They’re hopelessly loyal, but also good judges of character, so I think it still counts. I’ve heard of people whose dogs never liked the new boyfriend who turned out to be an abusive shithead.” The man sweeps some sand off his trousers — ah jesus, it’s going to get everywhere — and watches as Franklin just sags back to the ground. He’s had enough of walking, it seems, despite the little booties they put on per Farnon’s recommendation to protect the dog’s paws from the hot ground.

His reply to her next question takes a moment in coming. It’s not the most flattering answer, but here’s the other side-effect of working with Herian Amsel the Tranquil: she doesn’t judge.

“And— in a sense, yes. It literally paid better.”

"A plentiful purse is more motivating than the qualities of your patients."

Not a question, as she considers Doctor Strange's comment. "That better aligns with medicine. To treat based on the patient's capacity to pay for their treatment, rather than their merits as a person. Though some go without, payment ensures ongoing means to practice their healing."

Herian remains impassive, the disconnection between her own past (the alienage, the poverty) and her own words lost on her.

Franklin whines, poking at Herian's leg with his nose. Automatically, she passes him a small piece of bread, part of her own rations for the journey.

Edited (Belated typo fix) 2024-11-25 17:13 (UTC)

"No, I've almost collected all the needed specimens," Tav smiles, reaching down to rub Franklin's belly.

"What a cute dog," Tav praises. "Very friendly, too."

Cosima's emotions aren't uncomplicated, but genuine relief and pleasure are the unfeigned top notes. It warms her face with a smile that is, at least for now, uncomplicated.

"Hell yeah. How are you feeling about being touched right now? Is a hug on the table?" It's a genuine question, and maybe for the first time since their most recent reunion, the full complication but also the full warmth of it comes across. Cosima's not someone skilled at deception; she is here because she wants to be. Because Herian asked, and Herian is someone she values.

It's not telepathy. Herian and Cosima have certainly miscommunicated plenty without Tranquility in the mix, after all. But there's an extra channel of information available, now, and Cosima's not trying to hide how much she would like to embrace Herian, even if it's taking a backseat to what Herian needs for this specific moment.

How long this might last is uncertain. Though she knows it, it does naught to stop her relieved laugh. Relief, to feel relief is as wondrous as it is to laugh. Herian wraps Cosima in a hug, which probably serves as response enough.

"It is good to see you." Might risk being an understatement, if not for the weight of her sincerity.

That mix of scents that is inherently Cosima, the familiarity of her, even after years, it's-- a lot, with the tide of emotions washing over her being as shocking as the literal wave might be in this desert. Awareness of regrets are caught in the undertow, pulled under by the swell of joy and relief.
"Thank you." She squeezes Cosima tight. "Thank you for being my friend."

That feels important to say, urgent to express. It is a stilted dynamic, the simultaneous lack of emotion and oversharing of information; that Cosima has made the effort to despite the complexity of things, despite Herian not being herself, means more than she can grasp the words for. Friendship is a wonderful thing, and she is glad that there is a friendship to be had, or the potential to navigate to it.

"I'm always going to care about you," she says, a bit muffled as she hasn't let go yet. "Nothing's going to change that." It feels important to say now, when it's important to both of them. They'd left things so raw and sad when Herian had left Kirkwall before, and there's a relief in Cosima being able to say that she still cares as well as demonstrate it.

"Oh shit, wait, I don't know how long we've got so I promised questions first. Then we can talk longer, if it lasts." She exhales and pulls back just far enough to make eye contact without craning her neck to account for the height difference. "I know better than anyone you've been some different places with Tranquility. But today. Do you want us to pursue undoing it?"

It's not like Herian won't remember Cosima's historical position on this, but she still makes the question neutral as she can. Even if nothing is going to make Cosima forgive the people who did it against her will, there are reasons Herian might not want it undone.

A soft breath of laughter, not quite surprised because yes, it makes sense, and she's glad for Cosima's focus in this moment. She is feeling so much, her thoughts struggling to keep up with it and not follow the current.

Her movements mirror Cosima's own, accommodating distance without drawing back far, though it takes a moment to register. Pulling away from the comfort feels counterintuitive in this moment when feeling is so precious, but she had requested Cosima be an anchor in this.

"Yes." Not desperation, though the urgency and certainty of it is in her gaze as much as her voice. "Emotions, at times, seem a burden beyond our capacity, but-- we cannot be whole without them." She grasps Cosima's hands, as she remembers something. "You told me in my Tranquility that fighting in this war does not mean you do not value your life, and I struggled to comprehend without absolutes, when the very reason many of us fight is because we value the lives of ourselves and those around us."
Herian hesitates, and maybe there is desperation, now. "The longer I am Tranquil, the less weight I place on taking how I might have felt into account, and--"

Is it absurd to dread what she might become in Tranquility? That without emotion she could rationalise that to restore herself would indicate sentimentality is being prioritised over logic and duty, and refuse?

Cosima squeezes Herian's hands. "OK. Now that we know what you want while you're whole, it's a problem we can work. It's been reversed before, so we know it's possible. We won't let you drift out to sea, I promise." A metaphor that feels apt, in the moment. "And in the meantime, we'll take care of you even if you're not valuing taking care of yourself. I promise."

She doesn't quite hesitate, but her voice is pitched a bit lower as she says, "And question number two. What do you want us to do about the people who did this to you? As a division head, I'm obliged to say that we may or may not do it, but as your friend, I think what you want holds a fucking lot of weight, so." She's willing to push for this, even if she suspects she may not have to push Rowntree very hard.

"Thank you." Hard to hear if not for how closely they are standing, barely drawn back from the hug. It's too much to fathom how quickly this will end and all the uncertainty that brings. (Or that it is ensured not to bring, really.) Being able to rely on Cosima, Kostos, those others willing to help, eases the paralysis that might grip her otherwise.

Not having felt emotions for months, the turn of her mood is jarring.

"I want to kill the man who did that to my friends." Herian blinks, taken aback by her own ferocity, the speed with with rage crashed through her, attempting to catch herself. It's not unlike watching a cat struggle with over-correcting after a near fall.

That anger is at much at risk of sweeping her away as anything else, fresher pathways feeling all too vulnerable to corrosion, and she closes her eyes, exhales slowly and shakily.

"Justice sought. I've no doubt they are willing to do the same over, if they have not done it before." Another shaky breath, and she meets Cosima's gaze again. "I wish to be whole again to contribute, though-- cutting their harmful aspirations short is more important than whether I am of the number to do so."

Which is counter to what her righteous anger is telling her, but it's in its own war against every other emotion that the very thought and the memory call to the fore, and her mouth twists unhappily. Being aware of something for months is to very different to coming to terms.

“I— no, that’s not what I meant—” Strange sounds alarmed, his gaze snapping up from the dog toward Herian instead, trying to figure out how to backpedal and fix this interpretation. Is he accidentally recreating privatised medical care in Thedas? Shit.

“That doesn’t align with medicine at all, Amsel. Just because that fueled my initial decision doesn’t mean I was right at the time. I was selfish, and wanted to fund my luxurious personal lifestyle. I’ve had the time and space and distance from it to admit that now. Doctors swear an oath to help anyone regardless of means. That’s what we should be striving for.”

And deciding to pre-empt another potential logistical problem at the pass, he adds, “And that’s how we’ll be operating as healers within Riftwatch, by the by. If someone in the field isn’t able to recompense us or something, don’t demand it from them. We’ve resources from the organisation; we’ll make do.”

"Speaking as myself and not on behalf of the organization: you should get your fucking revenge if you want it." So there's that. She presses her hand to Herian's arm, understanding, sympathy, steadying. "But I also think it's something that I wouldn't let stand even if it had happened to someone other than you. And I can't imagine Rowntree is going to object. I just ... it'll help. To be able to say what you want, while you can want things."

Her exhalation is a short, sharp breath, but her voice stays steady. "We won't hold our hand to wait for you to be well. If we have a shot at them. But if there's a way to put the blade in your hand, I'll do it. You deserve that and more."

It's never been any secret that violations of autonomy strike a particular nerve with Cosima. This one, so close to her heart, is one she's especially disinclined to forgive, even if she's not going to take a life with her own hands.

"I missed you. For what it's worth." Both while she was gone, but also ... the parts of her that aren't accessible now that she's back with Riftwatch. The wholeness of Herian, like this.

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(closed) I found my laugh and took a lifetime to perfect it

Cosima

Stephen

Kostos

Tav

Re: Tav

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You can't edit your way out of a hug though

the ideal outcome

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