open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

[faderifting]

WHO: Inquisition Forces
WHAT: Inquisition forces cross the mountains into Orlais to deal with Emprise du Lion
WHEN: Wintermarch 25 onward
WHERE: EMPRISE DU LION
NOTES: This is a mingle-style log for the Inquisition camps, local tavern, and general/open Inquisition work, etc.

This time they hike down to the west, but the trip through the mountains is no easier. The snow is heaped up about the road where wagons have pushed it aside, stomped into slippery pack beneath the feet and hooves that have gone before. Of the main track it is ankle deep at best and in places it drifts, waist-deep on a tall man and enough to bury a dwarf who hasn't come prepared with snowshoes. Everywhere the wind howls, biting cold, and the sky hangs low, a pale flat grey that makes it difficult to judge distances. Those who know winter weather call it a snow sky, and near-daily squalls prove them right.

They set up camp in Sahrnia, across the broad expanse of frozen river that has trapped the villagers here upstream. Tents pop up in rows and in the shells of tumbled-down buildings, fires blazing and thawing the ground to mud. When the supply wagons roll in they re-open the local tavern, brightly lit with flaking paint on the walls that might once have been colorful and patterned tiles on the floor that seems to swim like an optical illusion after too many glasses of the cheap red wine that fills the cellars.

Even deadlier reds hold the hills: Red Templar sightings have been frequent and it is said they are operating in several locations in the region in significant force. Some of these men and women have become hulking, crystalline beasts. Many others are in the earlier stages of corruption: red-veined and -eyed, aggressive and superhumanly strong, but still visibly human and coherent if spoken to. Red lyrium is even easier to find, jutting out of the ground or cliffsides, filling caves-- the Tower of Bone, a fortress that has stood for centuries, now threatens to split from the inside out. The area's wildlife was none too friendly before, but now the wolves and bears have begun to be corrupted by the lyrium and many will attack on sight, without provocation. (The snofleurs that bumble harmlessly around the river seem unaffected.)

Everywhere there are ruins: broken bridges, crumbling colosseums, and the great hulking mass of Suledin's Keep tucked between the distant hills. Scouts reported that Red Templars hold it as well.

RIFTER ARRIVAL - SAHRNIA - THE HILLS - TOWER CAMP - A HANDY MAP

Comments

[samahl]

"I like most sorts," Cyril responds. He files away the fact that Guy is spoken for. He'll tone down the flirting a bit because of it, though Guy doesn't seem totally opposed to keeping it up in a friendly sort of way. "It sounds like I'd like your brother though." He realizes that Gam is likely very far from these people he's talking about and then feels a little guilty for bringing up things that might remind him of home.

"I meant it about showing you to camp. You can come wit me? Maybe we should find something for you to eat."

[maladgogo]

All the worse when one considers that he's so certain that he'll eventually be able to get home to those people. The reality of the situation hasn't quite sunk in yet.

"Food would be nice. Ain't ate much since I got here." Meaning he hasn't eaten a damn thing, but better to understate it. They have more important things to worry about here than him. He stands and lets Cyril take the lead, following behind easily. Maybe he can get one of those tents moved over there to where he's got his fire set up, if there was one to spare. "Already missin' Kur's cookin'. He made some'a the best sweets I ever fuckin' put in my face."

[samahl]

"Sweets, huh? I'm afraid we don't have many of those when we're on the field. It's mostly basic rations for us right now. We might be able to get sweets when we go back to Skyhold."

[maladgogo]

"Wouldn't imagine sweets are all that abundant 'round here to begin with. Not with the state'a things, anyway. Met a dude earlier, he said he ain't sure about nowhere to be gettin' some smoke either. Damn shame too, could use a little chill."

[samahl]

"Smoke?" Cyril asked thoughtfully. "What sort of smoke?"

[maladgogo]

"Sorta smoke you roll up n' enjoy slow-like. Maybe stick it in a pipe if you got one. Damn, gonna have to get me a new one," he said to himself, his hand immediately going to his leg, where the pocket of his jeans usually rested with his blown glass piece tucked inside. Now there wasn't a pocket, much less one with slightly tarry glass pipe in it. "You all even have shit like that here? Like...tobacco? Or some kinda herb to be gettin' a motherfucker high."

[samahl]

"We have elfroot. My brother smokes it. I'm not sure if it has the same effect for humans, but we could try?" At least that sounded a bit like elfroot. He hadn't tried it himself enough to know for sure.

[maladgogo]

"Long as you know it ain't poisonous, I'll see 'bout findin' out a little more. Maybe hit up ya brother. Maybe when we ain't out here in the motherfuckin' cold though."

He glances around the camp when he realizes that they've walked nearly into the middle of it, then looks back at Cyril with a small smile. "Might be easier for me to be hangin' back here. Don't want nobody comin' up on me askin' a whole lotta questions 'til I got a little food in me." He'd been answering questions all day it felt like.

[samahl]

Cyril considers that and then. "Would you like to come to my tent?" he asked and then chuckles a bit. "I mean, to keep hidden and out of the cold. Not anything unacceptable."

[maladgogo]

His brow hovers back upward, but he shrugs some and give Cy a small nod. "Sure lil' brother, would appreciate the use'a ya space. I'll vacate 'fore I overstay my welcome."

[samahl]

"I seriously doubt that you could do such a thing," Cyril responded, right back to flirting. "It's this way," he adds before leading Gam to his assigned tent.

[maladgogo]

Gam can't help but laugh some at that. Flirting or otherwise, it was good to meet someone that wasn't either on edge or covered in gore. He follows Cyril to his tent and crouches to peek inside, figuring out the arrangement before turning in place and taking a seat right there at the entrance, his snowy boots still settled out on the frozen ground. "You roomin' alone? I'd hate for ya bunkmate to come along and get all surprised at some strange motherfucker sittin' in y'all's space."

[samahl]

"The only other man who might show up is my brother," Cyril promised. He smiled at Gam. "And he's used to me bringing beautiful men home with me."

[maladgogo]

Another laugh, this time accompanied by the slightest darkening of his cheeks. "Well a'ight then. If he does show up could get talkin' with him too, see what's what." And hopefully Cyril's brother wouldn't immediately look down on the guy for immediately bringing a Rifter home with him.

[samahl]

Merrick always immediately disliked people, but it would have nothing to do with Guy being a Rifter, or the fact that Cyril brought him home. Both of those things were normal by now.

The blush was more than a little perfect and Cyril felt a strong desire to make Gam do it again. He already had filed away that this man was spoken for and therefore untouchable in any sexual way, but the blushing was something he could enjoy.

"Well, make yourself at home," he said. "I'll hunt down some food for you?"

[maladgogo]

"Much obliged, lil' brother." He smiled up at Cyril, then pulled his knees up to prop his arms on, letting his hands hang. Maybe Merrick would come along, maybe he wouldn't, but either way, at least he'd managed to find someone incredibly welcoming. Even if he was a terrible flirt. That was easily forgiven.

[samahl]

Cyril isn't gone for long. He comes back with a bowl of basic gruel and some dried meat. "I'm sorry it's not very appetizing," he admits. "We're hunting some meat but most of that goes to the civilians. They've been through a lot lately."

[maladgogo]

The dried meat is turned over in Guy's fingers, then shredded and popped into his mouth piece by piece.

"Ain't nothin' to apologize for man, I seen some shit y'all gotta get dealin' with around here. I ain't about to complain about a warm meal." He had grown up poor, not that you could really tell it about him these days, with the state of him.

[samahl]

Cyril smiles a bit like that. "You're not like others who arrived through the Rifts. It's really nice."

[maladgogo]

"How's'at?" he asks around his bite. "Met a real severe lady looked like she'd been here a while, but she had the same shit up in her hand like me. But it takes all types, don't it?"

[samahl]

"Your accent, for one," Cyril pointed out. "I've never heard anything like it. Where are you from?"

[maladgogo]

Guy's head tilted a bit, and he chuckled then ran a hand over the back of his neck, under the section of his dreads left hanging at the back of his neck.

"Not sure how much context you got here, but I come from a motherfuckin' island, surrounded by kin n' others close to us. Slum, damn huge one, called Cité Soleil. Moved northward when I was little, but Papa, he was some fuckin' huge deal. Rebellion, cult shit, protectin' the rest'a us, n' he brought a bunch'a people wit' us. Set us up a compound all fuckin' full'a kin what talks like me. But we was also in a place where they be talkin' a little mo' like this, smooth n' gentle-like, so I s'pose that got creepin' in on m' verbiage as well. We speakin' French, kreyol, Spanish, lil' Esperanto. Every last mo'fucker speak sign language too, but can't really put an accent t' that shit."

[samahl]

Cyril listens and Guy's right, that he doesn't have much context. He doesn't really care, though, because just listening to Guy is worth it.

"I'm sorry, French? Spanish? Kreyol? What languages are those?"

[maladgogo]

It's been a while since Guy's found someone that legitimately enjoys listening to him, but Cyril's interest spurs him on some.

"C'est ce que dirait français," he starts, then lapses back into English, dropping the gentle accent that had accompanied the language switch. "Got told that sounds like Orlesian, but when I tried usin' it at a pretty lil' blonde lady, she didn't get it.

"Sa a kreyòl, lang se mwen menm ki pi habitués pou yo. Grew up speakin' that one. It's kinda unique, that particular fuckin' dialect. Haitian Creole.

"Cuando hablamos español fluye un poco mejor. We got a lot'a fuckin' latinos followin' us too, 'specially on the east coast. Spanish is real common everywhere so it just made sense to be learnin' it. Esperanto's a little harder to explain, it's more like...a conglomeration of rules n' words from all kinds'a different languages. Somethin' just about anyone could get the hang of, speak at will. Easier t' learn than English, which is what we call this shit we speakin' now back home."

[samahl]

Cyril listens to those languages with complete attention. "It does sound a bit like Orleasian. And the last one sounds a bit like Antivan? But not quite. I don't speak either of those, but there are many in the Inquisition who do."

Then, after a moment, "Would you be willing to teach others? Having a language that only the Inquisition understands might be useful."