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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"Perhaps I wish to be particular in what it is I mean to have." Pink, yes, but easier about the innuendos than she once was if only through exposure and conversations with Varric. It isn't the academic debates she's accustomed to but- it's challening in it's own way and worthwhile.

Still. Adorable kitten, handsome man, and she still isn't prepared for the way they interact to warm her despite the cold. Voice pitched in a soft lilt, Adelaide directs her attention to Purrelden. "Vous ne mentez pas à moi, vous faire chaton? Non, non, vous ne le faites pas."

Her eyes flick up to Anders. "She says you skipped breakfast."

Edited 2016-02-16 09:17 (UTC)

He has no game face. There's an obvious guilty look on his face before Anders glances away.

"There were already patients by the time I awoke. Time slipped away from me." More like Justice demanded that they start healing early and Anders doesn't want to fight that when it's something they both agree on. He's worried. He has control, but now he also has a cat, he's had liasons with people, he's... finding parts of himself again, and it frustrates Justice that Anders is getting so distracted. All it will take is one loss of control for his life to be over.

"I had some lunch, and now I'm having tea. There's nothing to worry about. I'm already eating more than I ever had the chance to on the run." It's a weak defense and he knows it.

"If you burn yourself out, Detlef, you are of no good to anyone-" Her eyes narrow faintly as she looks to him- through him, voice pitched low in the space between. "You need to let him take care of himself. He is not like you; he needs food, warmth, and rest. To deny him this out of impatience- some might call it unjust."

She holds a hand up to forestall any- well. Outbursts this might prompt. "Some. You mean well, you have a purpose to fulfill. But you must allow him to be himself otherwise you both will suffer for it."

He stiffens a little, just noticeably, as Justice bristles as if he's been accused of trying to actively harm Anders. There's so much that is actually unjust that they'll never be able to fully fix, not with a mortal's lifespan or limitations... and then the spirit stills and Anders relaxes again. She's only trying to help. Justice still isn't sure they need her help, but as Anders thinks it's important, he will relent on this. For now.

Anders can't quite meet Adelaide's eyes as he pets the tummy Purrelden is now putting on display. It's a relief that someone else knows, but he feels weak every time it's that obvious Justice has made a call and Anders might not have.

"I do sleep enough," he offers lightly. "And it's not his fault Emprise du Lion is unnecessarily cold. But your point is taken. I'll make sure I eat a full dinner." Purrelden makes a little noise again, and Anders finally looks up. "...Full dinner minus a couple of scraps of meat, for the greedy little thing."

"It is easy to forget." Compassion only recalls due to keeping track of that ties deeply into their purpose. Justice? Has an entirely different focus. Adelaide reaches out to rest her hand against Detlef's jaw for a moment, checking the warmth of his skin, the circles under his eyes, if any, the color to his cheeks. One missed meal. It is in the long run a forgivable offense. "Skip tomorrow and I will know- and I will have words for you."

Her hand drops to his shoulder to squeeze gently before she turns, pulling out a loaf shaped dish and a loaf of bread warmed by the coal brazier in the corner. Lunch has come and gone but- a man must eat. "If you need a coal warmer for your bedroll I might spare mine. The fool I share a tent with radiates heat better than expected. The one thing Fereldans do well, apparently."

The day he's without circles under his eyes will be cause for celebration. They're better, though, steadily shrinking from where they'd been when she'd first met him. Being among people is something he'd needed more than he knew. If he can be cared about, he's not fully lost yet.

"I'll add that to the mud and dogs assessment I've made of them." Maybe he should have chosen a Fereldan name to match his accent, but he's never wanted to pass for one. With a nod of thanks he accepts the bread. There's the faintest string of pride that says maybe he should decline, but Adelaide is sensible. She wouldn't offer what she can't afford to give.

"I'm sharing with another mage, a Salvatore. I've managed to keep the tent fairly warm, but I'd not turn down the loan ifyou're sure. Purrelden doesn't have a full coat yet and I'd prefer to be safe. Though I'm curious about which Fereldan you're dealing with. Handsome? Dripping in muck?"

Adelaide pulls the lid off the dish and cuts into the mass within, pulling out a fatty terrine of diced rabbit, onion, and garlic, set in fat. It kept well enough in this weather and offered something to help make up for missed meals.

She may or may not make use of it herself.

The slices are set in a dish that she hands off to Detlef as well, snorting. "Salvatore is a kind, capable, and interesting young man. Not often I have the opportunity to speak to a Necromancer that offers straight answers."

After a moment's thought she pours out the tea, adding a dribble of honey to her cup. "The fool I am stuck with in particular- I suppose some might think him handsome for all the sighing of my students. A templar hobbyist by the name of Alistair. I've never before met someone so thoroughly useless."

If only he'd been half as prepared while running away as she is here. Granted, he'd at least taken some supplies most of his escape attempts, minus the one where he'd simply jumped into the lake, but it's nothing like her set up.

Anders murmurs a thanks as she hands over the food, more listening to what she's saying. Necromancer. Now that's interesting. He's never really spoken to one before. They're not really... the sort of practitioners he's ever had much in common with. But the name of her tentmate gets a raised eyebrow and a slightly amused look on Anders' face.

"As in the Alistair? The one who was companion to the Hero of Ferelden?" Templar hobbyist would be a suitable description, certainly. But he'd heard fond stories from Cousland, and seen the man in action, which makes it a little difficult to call him thoroughly useless.

"He's decent enough in a fight." There's a pause. "When he's not walking into a trap. And dispelling the barrier I've just put up over the group. And glaring at everyone. I... go ahead and take back that. He didn't seem an idiot, at least. And I'll allow that perhaps he was preoccupied. If one of my... if someone I'd traveled with for a time was taken, I'd be upset as well."

"As in Maric's bastard, yes." Fereldan politics weren't ever a concern of hers, she hadn't put much thought into who or what Alistair was beyond 'annoying' and 'useless'; these details of his skill in a fight aren't particularly relevant to her contempt for him. She stirs the honey into her tea and sits back, frowning down at the surface. That is right, the Antivan Assassin had been taken recently, hadn't he?

And returned.

Detlef hadn't mentioned anything of what happened there and Adelaide finds herself loathe to ask. And yet... "Working with him was not horribly difficult, in Antiva?"

Not the most graceful segue but coming outright to wonder if he'd been hurt, if there'd been an excess of danger, if any of what Korrin had said was true- Adelaide isn't certain she has the right to ask. She wants to, the questions knotting on her tongue- but it may not be something Detlef wishes to think about.

"Mm. No."

He's quiet for a few moments, gaze down as he cuts into the food and takes a first bite before gently nudging the curious kitten away from his plate. Simple meats without additional things are fine for her. Ones flavored? Not so much. He cares too much about her to let her curiosity and hunger harm her.

After chewing, Anders shrugs and looks up. There's something heavier in his eyes, but he doesn't have to talk about everything. And it's not like he lost Zevran. He'd been there, he'd helped save the elf. He just hadn't been able to save his eye when his skill was needed the most by someone who had helped him feel whole again.

"The qunari were actually the most difficult. There was a... thing. Monstrous, ugly, taken apart and sewn back together. We should have trapped it and gotten out of there, making sure to secure the walls on the way out so that it stayed put and was a pleasant welcome for any further crows to return. Instead? Instead the qunari charged in. All three of them. I had to choose whether to stay with my patient or back them up, and wound up needing to heal the archer and the group because it's never just one ugly monstrosity. No. There were corpses too. And the giant thing threw its head at me. At me! All I was trying to do was keep everyone from dying! The least the qunari could do was be good enough targets."

"Korrin and The Iron Bull?" One other she can't quite name but- she's seen them fight. It's terrifying. Anything that took not only them but one other to put down...perhaps she shouldn't have asked. Trying to sort out how much danger Detlef and the others had been in will only wind the tension in her shoulders tighter than it already is from everything back at Skyhold. Here she is trying to worry less but-

She reaches out anyway and curls her hand around his. The usual hesitance about contact is decidedly absent. It is no timid, light touch, no brief thing. She curls her fingers around his hand and squeezes, more as a reminder to herself that he's made it back safely.

"I am certain Korrin truly only meant to trap it. She's one of the most pragmatic mages I have met. The Bull is..." Finding words for him is difficult at best. "A force of nature."

He looks at her as she takes his hand, suddenly realizing that she's worried. Worried about him. It takes a moment to process that and there's a little guilt when it sinks in, because she's concerned with Detlef. The debt he owes her grows by the day, but that doesn't keep him from squeezing back.

"Korrin likely did. The Bull and Taas did not. ...But we did make it out." There's no need to note whatever Taas pulled after. It had been odd and worrying and not Anders' problem so long as no one got more badly injured. "The thing is dead, the corpses are dead again, and we got everyone back to Skyhold. That's what matters."

"I am glad you all returned in one piece. The Crows are- I have not heard much of them but their reputation is terrifying." All the more so if they have golems made of living, or formerly living, bodies. Adelaide represses a shudder, her hand going tight around his for a moment. "I have only just regained an acceptable number of friends and would hate to lose those I have."

"I've encountered a couple before." It's out before he's really thinks, and then there's no taking it back. "Thankfully they weren't after me. They don't chase apostates who have no money."

Though there's definitely a chance there's contract on his head, and that's actually not a thought that's come to mind before. He could have gone much longer without thinking it. It's just another thought in a whole series of thoughts on his future and what he's doing. His life expectancy isn't exactly long.

Nor is the length of his friendships, and that thought is even more stressful than Crows possibly coming after him.

"You know I'm not the best friend to have. Not that I'm trying to push you away, or deny the label. I just don't want to hurt you." He's hurt so many people already.

"What?" Why would he- what reason could he possibly have had to-

She shoves it away with a violent resolution to worry later. Worrying now when he is safe and here and drinking tea and well- it is foolish. Worrying later over what might have happened or what it might mean...that is permissible. "You are...Every time we speak I feel as though I am uncovering another piece of a very strange, complicated puzzle, De-De."

It should worry her more than it does. Especially when he says that. How is she to take that. "You won't. I'll be disappointed, perhaps, but not hurt."

She knows better than to trust quite so keenly quite so quickly now, it'd been a difficult and singularly painful lesson, but. It is with great care and no small amount of care, choosing her words slowly, that she continues. "The worst...friend I had, if you could call them such, attempted to kill me during the Chaos at the Spire. I do not think you can do worse than that."

While he's fairly sure his identity won't remain secret for much longer, he's not about to explain that he's previously helped Zevran with a Crow problem. A new topic is welcome. Even if she's trying to solve the puzzle that is him.

At least disappointment is better than hurt, and he's not going to attempt to kill her. Small consolations.

"You know, I don't think I can do worse than that." Justice approves of her, if not how Anders feels toward her. She's trying to help them, and he's the greatest threat to anyone's survival from their direction. "I also think that everyone is their own puzzle, Ade-Ade. Strange, too. But perhaps some are a little simpler than mine, if we're to take a comparison entirely too far."

He gives her a small smile. "Once mine was entirely simple. Farmer's boy, looking after cows." It finally reaches his eyes as he shrugs. "Perhaps it's a good thing I never truly enjoyed tending them."

"I would like to think I am relatively straightforward. What one sees is what one gets." A studious workaholic that takes on more work than she truly ought out of some twisted sense of obligation. It was what those that didn't survive the Spire would've wished. They died, she lives- she owes it to them to try.

"Teacher, looking after students. Circle life might have been restrictive in some ways but it was not so bad. At least not until the last few months before it all went wrong. I- until everything fell apart I honestly thought if we listened, if we kept our heads down and waited and put our faith in the First Enchanters; we would be fine."

Her words sting in multiple ways all at once, and the smile fades away. Not so bad, because that's the sort of life mages were so used to taking as the best they can get. All went wrong, his doing. It went wrong for the right reasons, but everything did go poorly at first.

The only comfort to be found is that they're currently out of captivity, and progress is being made.

"I was what one saw, and then I added a... friend. But I never found Circle life to be not so bad." Which the scars she knows about can attest to, even if she doesn't know the full story behind them. He's the only one alive who does, he's fairly certain, and Anders works to keep it that way. "I know there were better Circles. Yours sounds like it wasn't so harsh a cage, but..."

He exhales and trails off as his cat stirs in his hands, stretching and digging claws into his leggings.

"But here I've a cat, and friends who aren't all in my head." Right now, not everything is so bad.

"I never believed it until our own fell. There were murmurings of what happened in other Circles- especially after Kinoch hold. After Kirkwall. But we were the Circle of Val Royeaux. The mages of The White Spire, the seat of templar power in Orlais." There's pride in that, tarnished by time and distance and opened eyes- but then? Then it had been more than enough. "It couldn't possibly touch us. There were always rumors, gossip- there is little more to do in a tower but study and gossip- of Templars taking liberties. Apostates brought in and forgotten in the dungeons, mages struck for insubordination- tales meant to frighten willful apprentices into compliance."

Her voice goes thick, her eyes distant. "They couldn't possibly be true. We'd never thought to question. The templars simply were, they did their duty, we did ours, we were safe from demons and those that feared us should we travel beyond the walls of the Spire- they would protect others from us should the worst come to pass. I never thought to ask. To investigate, to question. Theories and antiquated traditions, spells and academia- this I questioned. But never the system itself. I was willfully blinded by comfort. Content. What a bitter awakening it was, when everything fell apart."

It's hard to hear her fear, and there's little satisfaction in the fact that his actions had opened up her eyes. A view of reality had been needed, but the price had been high. At least he can take comfort in the knowledge that the cycle of ignorance and abuse has been broken.

For a few moments he's quiet after she stops speaking, simply looking down at his hands.

"It was always bad," he finally says quietly. It's his own emotions getting in the way of him being cold and firm in the way Justice wants. She's struggled and seen, and deserves compassion. Fittingly. It's the Loyalists who are still loyal who don't.

"But everyone's been trained so long that it's hard to see it. We're taught that magic is bad, makes us dangerous and worthless, that we should accept being locked away, while everyone else is taught that we're dangerous and not simply people, that they should fear us. It's divisive. Tactical. Create a dangerous enemy, and people will gladly look to you to protect them, and that's what the Templars and the Chantry have done. Some still refuse to see us, simply the threat that a few of us could and do pose but most do not." There's still so much work ahead of him. Ahead of all mages who chose to move forward rather than clinging to easy, stupid simplicity.

"We need training. I'll not deny that. But in proper uses of our skills, not in fear and shame and servitude."

"I suppose that is what Unger saw wen he held me to the wall." A hand thick and cold from gauntlets, crushing in it's grip. Her fingers drift up to massage the base of her throat, eyes distant in memory. "Perhaps I was fortunate in that I never truly saw such people in my time there. Those that do not look at us so much as they do through us- to which we are little better than beasts, than things to be used and discarded."

It takes a moment to reign that fear and frustration back in. Unger is dead, the world is a mess, they must do better. Above all else they must do better than what they had before.

No other option is acceptable.

"Depending on how things go in the Inquisition, we will set a precedent. Provided we are not forgotten entirely."

Held to the wall. That would be the friend that tried to kill her, then? Especially as she touches her throat. Anders has seen that gesture from a hundred people, and knows what it means.

"I saw... I saw a lot of them. Had run-ins with more than a few." Sometimes Rolan still walks his nightmares, as do several others, intent on trying to finish the job. He'd never been a person to them. Just someone who was trouble. Meredith too. Cullen. Alayre. Even Greagoir didn't really care except for Irving and Wynne. The rest? They were just objects. Most Templars couldn't see past their own noses.

"But you're right. At the very least, the common people are being exposed to mages, making friends, having to start thinking of them as people. If that can spread... And we've some self-governance. The course of history can be changed for the better. We can be free. We can... We can have lives." Even with all the difficulties freedom involves, it's worth it.

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open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

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