faderift | open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

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

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"Hey, are you alright?"

The voice comes from behind her, one that holds a touch of a brogue - and an unmistakable note of concern that has nothing whatsoever to do with the accent, just happens to be mixed in at the same time. It belongs to a young man who, while mostly dressed for the weather, seems to have chosen to wear a sort of plaid skirt over his warmer and more sensible garb. He also seems to be hovering, not quite to the point where he'd be able to hold her up, but close enough that if it looks like she's about to fall he can step in and hopefully keep her from doing so.

Before he does anything else, however, he reaches for a cloak that's around his neck and undoes the clasp, snagging it with a hand that glitters with a green glow much like the one in hers. There's a faint furrowing of his brow as he offers it out towards her, but whether it's from the shard in his own hand or that concern that's still lingering in his voice, it's hard to say.

"Here, you must be freezing. Take this."

Zafire's attention catches pretty swiftly on the shard, and almost distracts her to the point she scarcely notices the cloak. When she does see it, she hesitates before accepting (she doesn't want to convey fragility any further than she already has, but also, she's cold).

"Thank you, sir," she says, imbuing it with what grace she can muster, "and in answer to your question, no. I am not all right! I have been stolen fom my home, and something or someone has — has tampered with my body."

The presence of the shard is getting to her, as with everything else; the sense of violation is worse than the pain. Probably she should find a place to sit down. Instead, she slowly turns more fully to face Jamie, his cloak loose around her shoulders.

"Where am I, if you please?"

There's fragile - and then there's freezing, and even though he's only just arrived with some of the other Inquistion troops, it's hard to miss how cold it is around here, even with extra layers. With that dress she's wearing, it's a wonder she's not frozen half to death by now. When she finally does accept the cloak, something in him relaxes a little, a bit of relief over not having to worry about that on top of everything else. That is the complicated part, and there's a flicker of something that's maybe not quite a grimace at the question but is still fairly close, all things considered.

"Right now? You're in a place called Emprise du Lion, which is part of a bigger place that's called Thedas."

There's a bit more to it than that, even just when it comes to the exact location of the place, but if his guess is right about that shard in her hand they'll likely not make any more sense to her than they did to him when he'd first tumbled through the rift. Of course, it would probably help if he figured out if his guess is right, and he tilts his head slightly, giving her a somewhat thoughtful look.

"Don't suppose by 'stolen' you mean that you've wound up falling through a great sort of rift recently, have you? Maybe one not too far from here?"

The short series of names and words she doesn't know leave her temporarily flummoxed (Emprise du Lion sounds French, maybe, but it isn't), and agitated at her own confusion; Zafire wants to be able to focus, but her concentration is shot, and her ability to process information slowed. She grasps onto the word 'rift', which is unusual but not an inaccurate description of what she saw out further in the snows, and nods, briefly. Her expression creases with some further dismay.

"Yes. Yes, that sounds right."

She flexes her hands at her sides, partly to circulate blood-flow, partly out of restless energy.

"You make it sound common. Falling through this rift." She says the word like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

"Don't know about common, but you've if just fallen through one it's starting to get more common than I'd imagine some people around here were expecting. It's happened more than once since I've gotten here, and I was with the first lot who wound up in this place, although it was in a place called Haven at the time.."

That small motion of her hands catches his eye, though, and it occurs to him that even with a cloak, it's still quite cold around here. If she's got questions, it might be better to do that in a place that's maybe a bit warmer - assuming she's willing to trust him enough to go along with him, anyway. And that's something he won't find out unless he asks, so he motions with his head back towards the way he'd come.

"Look, there's a camp not too far from here, with a fire, and likely someone here'll be someone who can see about getting you some warmer clothes, too. I can explain more while we go, if you like. I'm Jamie, by the way. Think you'll be alright to walk for a bit?"

'Haven' is a nice name, but Zafire's first impressions of this land have led her to believe that the prettier the word for it, the more unfortunate the place probably is. She glances in the direction Jamie indicates, lower lip catching in her teeth. Can she walk? Is there really any other choice? She'll have to be fine, because the alternative is unacceptable.

Zafire refocuses on Jamie. "If there is a fire, that is incentive enough." Her smile is a little wan and, frankly, barely visible, but it does exist. "Let's leave this place, please."

She pauses. 'Jamie' sounds like a Western name.

"My name is Zafire." Said Zafi-reh, the ending e drawn out. Supposedly it meant victory. Wishful thinking.

While she considers, Jamie ends up watching her face, checking for signs that she might not be up to walking, even if it's only for a very short distance. That moment when she catches her lip in her teeth isn't a good sign, and his brow furrows ever so slightly at it. If she can't manage it, he'll have to decide what to do. He could try to carry her, but he's not the tallest of men and it might be awkward. Or he could try and contact someone over the crystals, maybe, and see if he could get some help.

But as it turns out, it seems she might be up to it after all, and even though he mentally makes a note to stick close just in case, the return smile he gives her is warm - and maybe just a touch encouraging as well. That can't hurt, after all.

"All right then, Zafire."

There's something somewhat exotic about her name, although he can't quite place where it might be from. He does try to copy her pronunciation as best as he can, however, in an effort to attempt to get that right the first time around even as he starts back along the direction he'd come from.

"Let's go. Look, though, if you need any help, just let me know, alright? It's not far, but if your arrival's anything like mine was, or for the others that've turned up, I'm imagining you had a wee bit of a fight on your hands."

She appreciates the kindness, in that way where she is not quite trusting of it by rote, rather than personal reservation — he seems a well-mannered young man, even if the unusual accent is rather a surprise. Zafire determinedly makes her way through the snow as they head back to the camp, one foot in front of the other.

"Yes, that's one way of putting it." She was pretty out of sorts for a variety of reasons, and initially refused to leave the site of the rift for fear she'd leave someone behind, but thoughts of the beasts that fell from its mouth eventually were enough to send her on her way.

That and the weather.

"There were spirits...revenants, I suppose. Some had a similar color to the chasm in the sky, but one was more like a corpse."

While he can't say as he's surprised, given his own experiences here, he still doesn't look entirely happy to have that part of things confirmed. He doesn't much like the idea of a lassie having to face the demons, no matter if they're normally a fighter or they're someone like Zafire, who he's thinking may be some sort of lady, given the fine materials that make up her outfit.

"Aye, I was afraid of that. They call them demons here. They're not exactly like the stories of demons back on Earth - er, where I come from - but there's some similarities. They come from this place called the Fade."

There's a fallen tree partially blocking the path ahead, too large for him to move, but there's just enough of a gap left that if he pushes the smaller, more flexible branches up and out of the way she should be able to get through without too much trouble. Without any hesitation, he moves to do just that, pushing them up as far as he can for her.

"Or that's what I've been told, anyway. But they seem to turn up wherever there's a rift, and they'll attack whatever's around. Including us."

Frankly, Zafire is wishing she wore something more practical today, and without jewelry (she might not know as much about the outside world as she'd like, but she does know ostentatious gemstone earrings are a beacon for thieves), but there was no way of foreseeing this.

"A spiritual realm would be the homeland of such a creature. A foul one, I'm certain." She isn't as experienced as many other witches, and certainly not with spiritualism and demonology, but she knows that much about them. "Why is it called the Fade, do you know?"

She is not surprised, exactly, when he pushes the errant branches from her path, because she is used to certain well-bred manners, but she is grateful. The idea of having to exert herself any more than strictly necessary is a daunting one. Zafire's 'thank you' is a quiet one, amid her careful attempt to move through the branches without tearing her dress.

That's not vanity. The heavy silk and Jamie's cloak are pretty much all she's got to keep her warm right now. Any more exposed skin in this environment seems like an invitation for frostbite.

"Aye, well, can't say as I rightly know why. Maybe one of the mages around here knows why it wound up with that name specifically. All I know is that it's supposed to be a place people go when they dream, except it's a real place too and demons can come out if through these rifts that keep popping up."

And it's entirely possible there was more to it then that, but that'd been about the point in the explanation where he'd started to feel his eyes glazing over and decided to go with one of his usual ways of dealing with things - pretending like he actually knows what someone's talking about but in reality he has no clue. It doesn't make for a good explanation for Zafire, though, and he gives her a slightly apologetic shrug for not being able to go into more detail.

He can continue to make sure the branches aren't an issue, though, and while she's moving through them he puts in a little extra effort to get them to stay back, not letting go until he's sure that she's clear.

"There's books that might help, too, back in Skyhold. That's where the Inquisition has its base of operations usually. This is just a...well, suppose you could call it an expedition, to take care of some problems in the area."

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open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

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