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

[fightingale]

Once Lara moves, so does Leliana, listening with interest as they move. "Perhaps you might enlighten me as to your expertise, at some point."
But when the revelation on elves comes... well. She catches Lara's wrist, at that, holding her steady for a moment, studying her expression, her eyes, anything for some clue, some jest. "So simple as that? 'They only exist in stories'?"

The hold only lasts a couple of moments; whatever she looked for in Lara, she cannot see it, and so Leliana releases her, before she sweeps out of the tavern. There's no such thing. "Deplorable," she murmurs, as they break out of the oppressive air of the tavern into the crisp, invigorating chill of the night air. "History has done much to erase their very identity, here," she explains when Lara is apace with her, nodding in the direction she plans to lead. "Humanity, I should say. They have been tormented and enslaved. To hear they do not exist at all, when so many echoes appear to carry across--"

But she cuts herself short, exhaling slowly. The wall must be rebuilt, piece by piece, the calm exterior that contains her ire restored. "Forgive me. It was alarming news to be met with."

[make_my_mark]

Lara tensed, muscles of her arm and shoulder tightening beneath Leliana's sudden grip, but she didn't fight. She watched the woman carefully instead, studying her face in turn as Leliana searched hers.

Looking for... what, exactly, Lara couldn't say. Ill placed humor perhaps?

"It seems to be the day for it," she murmured softly. She'd been caught-off guard by the reaction, but wasn't judging Leliana for it.

She tried to imagine what it would be like, on the other side. If it were her in Leliana's place. Somehow she believed it wasn't all that much easier.

"I wish I could say we've done better where I'm from, but we simply turn on each other instead. For everything from the color of our skin to the god, or gods, we chose to believe in."

[fightingale]

"I can believe it. We are as cruel to one another as we are to the elves." Frowning as she walks, breath leaving fog in the air, Leliana takes the thread this had handed her, and tugs a little - only a little. "So then," she starts, "you would not know the dwarves, either? Or the Qunari?"

It seems unbelievable. It is unbelievable. She has made little time to interact with many rifters, thus far, too busy in her tower with her messages and missions. "Maker's breath."

There is something almost awed in her tone, mixed in with the concern. "To step into a new world, with so much history yet unlearned, perspective untarnished. That is quite an opportunity, Lara... though I cannot say I envy you."

Torn into another world is still the reality, and a dangerous world, at that. Who knows what she might have of a life, of kin, left behind her?

[make_my_mark]

"It's--" Lara took a breath, looking around at the small, snow-covered village and its strange inhabitants as they walked. "It's a lot. But I've gotten used to having to adjust."

For better or worse.

"I'm a fast learner." She offered another of those wry, slightly sad smiles. Then her head lowered as she considered the actual question. "Dwarves I've heard of, again from popular fiction, if not in practice. The - Qunari, however...You mean the-- people with the horns?"

Another small wrinkle of her brow.

"There's one story. A myth from the ancient Greeks, but they certainly don't fit what I know of it. The Minotaur was a monster."

These people - Korrin, had seemed like any other person. If bigger and with an massive set of horns. And capable of using magic.

But that was another conversation altogether.

i am so sorry for the eternal tldr omg

[fightingale]

That gives Leliana pause. "I am sorry," she finally offers. I've gotten used to having to adjust seemed a term that could cover so many crimes inflicted against your person, so many terrible things one might have done to survive. Leliana knows it from each perspective, and all too well that she is hardly unique within Thedas or even the Inquisition for that.

Suffering was universal, a blight upon each world. If seems so cruel, does it not? But perhaps the Maker had a hand in all these worlds, loved all these children, and was hurt Himself when each time they inflicted pain upon one another so ruthlessly.

Better not to dwell on it, and instead, to offer information. "I know of a dwarf who is, himself, a prolific writer. I have to wonder how he might feel about his people being relegated to the realms of fiction." Knowing Varric, he might think it rather fitting.

"Yes. Their name means 'People of the Qun,' a strict and extremely structured set of beliefs. From my understanding, it dictates almost every element of their lives. Those who leave the Qun are titled 'Tal-Vashoth,' and those born outside it simple 'Vashoth.' Those of us not born to the Qun are 'bas.' Not all those who follow the Qun are Qunari, nor are all who we humans or elves or dwarves might call Qunari considered true Qunari..." A glance to Lara, and a faintly apologetic smile quirks her mouth as she carries on. "It is complex. I travelled with a Qunari, once, many years ago. He was a stern but mighty warrior, with great honour. He did not have horns, but he was the most stalwart of them I have ever met."

And, satisfied with the distance they have drawn from some of the buildings, she stops a moment. "If you do decide to join us, I hope you will indulge my curiosity regarding these myths from your world." Perhaps her enthusiasm for stories shines through, just a little. A glance of Leliana, and not the Nightingale, before her expression becomes more serious. "I cannot lie, Lara. The mark on your hand is important to us. If you and it should fall into the hands of our enemies, I cannot say what the implications could be for this world."

Don't apologise! I love it. 8D

[make_my_mark]

I am sorry.

It caught her off guard again. More kindness, from this woman she'd only known a few moments, than she'd experienced from so many others that should have been there for her. From so many it had turned out, were working against her.

It was disarming. She wasn't certain she could trust it.

But she wanted to, God help her.

When Leliana paused, she did as well, turning to face the woman readily.

"I appreciate your honesty, and your offer. I don't expect this to be easy, but if you and this Inquisition are willing to help, than so I am."

\o/ sweet victory

[fightingale]

It is sentimental, perhaps. More sentimentality than she should allow herself, certainly more than Sister Nightingale could exhibit. What they need is the mark, and yet she cannot but feel—

Rifters, and ones bearing the mark, are dragged into a circumstance not of their making, twice over. A challenge beyond what most could imagine dealing with already existed for those from Thedas who had the green shard glowing and rippling within their skin. To have that when you have been forcibly torn from your home, into circumstances that seemed complex and beyond understanding even to some of those who had walked this world their entire life? It seemed cruel. It was cruel, and for all that she brings death with her, Leliana cannot abide cruelty. Not to mages, not to rifters, not to shareholders. It was not always simple; there were reasons these people each had the potential to be feared, but even so. One person was not a reflection of the many, nor vice versa. Such assumptions… they undermined the very fabric of what made each person so precious in the Maker’s sight. And Lara's words suggested some further hurt.

Such moments, such thoughts, they allowed her to remember why her faith was so important to her. Now was not, however, a time for such contemplation.

“I am glad to hear it. The journey is not so long from here, although I am afraid it is not the most clement weather to endear the countryside to you.”

For now, she holds out the map she had shown Lara earlier. "Take this. If you see any Inquisition scouts and have need of information, ask for Sister Nightingale. They will bring you to me."

[make_my_mark]

Sister, as in--?

She pushed the question away. She could ask later. Once she'd some time to digest all that she'd already learned. (It hadn't fully sunk in yet. She wasn't sure she truly believed. Hadn't even begun to think about what it would mean....)

"It wasn't the best season where I was, either," she replied wryly, reaching out to take the offered map. "It'll take more than the weather to stop me."

She held the parchment for a moment, then tucked it into the inside of her armor where it would be safer.

"Thank you, again."

[fightingale]

Sadly, there is a good deal more than weather to be concerned about, but something tells her Lara has gathered that already. No need to crush her beyond fighting.

"I'm glad to hear it. And I can assure you that no thanks are necessary. If you decide to find me at Skyhold, then thanks due will be my own."

As she starts to turn away, Leliana frowns, and looks back to Lara. "Unless you find yourself with Inquisition forces, I would advise keeping away from groups. There are too many factions and too many agendas for a stranger to be able to memorise them all at a moment's notice."

And with that, Leliana is departing, nodding to Lara before she continues her ascent up the hillside.