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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Are there similar people, in your world?

[ Her interest is absolutely piqued now, eyes widening a bit. There is so much she could learn, so much that could lead to new ideas, to new ways of thinking about the People and their history. ]

Would you tell me about them? We could trade.

I would be glad to, little sister, but I caution you, ( although not in any real earnestness - he doesn't turn solemn, there is no edge underlying some darker warning, merely the hope that she will not get her hopes up. ) The Styric people share stories with your people, but it is an unfortunate flaw of humanity that we don't require a people be of another species to persecute them.

( the people to whom he refers are human, in other words. )

Elves, such as yourself - where I came from, they exist only in the overactive imaginations of whoever it is churning out all of these appalling paperbacks in Thalesia.

( of which he's read a lot. he wasn't getting a lot of action the past few years, he didn't have anything better to do in his tent at night. )

Oh- I don't mind if they aren't elves.

[ There's a slight smile. ]

Even if I'd never met a human myself a decade ago. There are bad people of all races, and more importantly, good people.

Though I'm admittedly very interested in recovering the history of mine. That's part of why I want to know -- maybe I'll get some inspiration.

Perhaps.

( sephrenia would like that, he thinks. to inspire. )

My tutor in the secrets - sorcery, magic, whatever word strikes your fancy - was a Styric woman, the Lady Sephrenia. Our little mother. ( the clear, deep affection for her in the way he speaks her name - and everything else about her - probably accounts for at least some of the way that he's approached this subject thus far. it is a strong argument for his apparently respectful interest being genuine, if nothing else. )

She taught me all that I am proud to know.

Do your people not teach magic, otherwise?

[ And yet- persecuted, but required. Enchantments, healers, combatants -- the mage of Thedas has helped it grow and remained ignored. Servants and laborers, the city elves have carried the weight of that growth on their shoulders and are still mistreated. And the Dalish are ghosts, hunted and hunters, but even they were sought out in the face of the Blight. ]

Or is it something else?

My people, such as they are,

( perhaps not his in any way he wishes to claim, )

have no magic of their own. And our magic, generally, is not the intrinsic gift of a mage like yourself, ( with an easy, familiar touch to her shoulder, a little push that's almost teasing. he isn't such bad company, always. ) It's more like - music.

In theory, anyone can learn. In practise...not everyone can sing.

( a shrug. )

Nearly a thousand years ago, Elenes faced an enemy they were unprepared for. They sought Styric aid - allied with four of the Thousand gods who came to act as patrons for the knighthoods of each of four Elene nations. The Cyrinics, the Alciones, the Genidians and the Pandions. And those gods have woven themselves into our hearts and minds, over the course of centuries...the knighthoods are just barely not pagan, for all they take vows for the Elene god.

Music. It sounds lovely.

[ At least in theory. There seems to be a lot of 'in theory' here. ]

So- the Elenes don't like the Styrics because of religion? That does sound familiar, yes.

[ Though a thousand gods sounds like an awful lot to keep track of. ]

Elenes don't like Styrics because Elenes don't like Styrics.

( a fairly harsh assessment of his own people, but he says it not unkindly, by way of correction. )

Their ingratitude to the Styric faith is one part of a very large argument that I doubt my people will soon be compelled to have. Much as your Dalish, your elves - there is no Styric nation. There is but one city, far from us, where few Elenes will ever see it. And better that way, I am sure, for all involved.

We argue religion with every people who have one different, but it is - different.

They are not kept as slaves, or treated close to them?

[ They have a city, at least. The cities of the elves lie only in ruins now, save for those taken by their raiders. ]

And those that learn to sing their magic, they're not hunted?

There are places where the practise of magic is more dangerous than others, for its practitioners. A few where it is outright illegal, and officially punishable by execution. Elenia and her sister-nations are not among those places,

( there is a weight to the pause, )

information that has apparently not spread to all of her more rural areas. And you don't need to practise magic, if you are a pretty Styric girl near an Elene village. They still might call you witch, and burn you til you die.

( if you're lucky.

he doesn't say that. he thinks it, but to merrill's sweet countenance, he cannot say it. )

Slavery is illegal, for all the good it does to stop it happening. Styrics keep to their rude settlements, for the most part, and Elenes give them a thousand reasons to keep hiding daily.

[ A large world, then, like Thedas. Large and filled with many peoples, with fear and prejudice.

As for being pretty and in the wrong place- well, Martel doesn't need to say it. Merrill knows. She may not like it, may have once in Kirkwall told Isabela that it was terrible to say even as the truth, but she knows.

The arm entwined with hers shifts, one slender hand finding his. ]

Yes. Very familiar. [ It's said with a soft sigh, with the dip of her head down toward either the earth or Martel's shoulder. ] Though here... I have hope that with the Inquisition, at least, we can change the hearts and minds of some.

( it merits a moment's pause, but only a moment; martel curls his hand around her smaller one, warm, and presses it briefly by way of some small comfort. yes--

he is sure she knows. )

I hope that as well, little sister, very much.

Do you want to return to your world?

[ She has to ask, with the way he speaks of it, with how he has hopes for this world as well. ]

I'm sorry, I know that's personal, just-

[ Curiosity. It tends to get the best of her. ]

( merrill has scarcely finished cutting herself off when it becomes apparent that he would've, anyway - his answer is swift and firm: )

No.

( it isn't an answer he hesitates to give, or to discuss. for a lot of reasons - but most of them to do with that it is that answer. this is his world, now, his home. if he could go back - not home; even were he in eosia, there is no going home for him and hasn't been for a long time - he wouldn't. he'd stay here, and make of this life something a bit more worthwhile than what he did with the last one.

and if he wants to truly become a part of thedas (god, he does), then he can't hesitate to say so. he can't hold himself back from sinking himself into it. and, for the most part,

he doesn't. )

I was dying, when I came through the rift. I would be dead, if not for it. The life that I led there is over - history will be written, and I will be whatever part of it the scholars give me. There is nothing there for me now.

Oh- Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry.

[ Not that he wants to stay, but that he feels he doesn't have a choice; that he was dying, would be dead, in his world. It must be a strange thing, to know that you are dead in another place, or at least considered as much. ]

But- I am glad, at least, that you are not desperate for it.

[ Not reaching, scrabbling to return to a place that one may not be able to return to. ]

Do you have plans for what you'll do when this is over?

I might go to Orlais, I thought.

( even at a glance - yes, he seems a little more likely to find a home for himself there rather than lingering in ferelden. )

What I might do there, I don't know. Yet.

( but admitting that ignorance is more comfortable than addressing her sympathy, which he - can't, quite, and so doesn't. )

You would stand out.

[ She's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but it is a true thing, based on what she knows of Orlesians. ]

I'd say you could stay with me whenever you wished, but I suppose I don't really know where I'll go, either.

[ There is so much outside of Kirkwall, and she doubts very much that everyone who came to Skyhold with her is going to want to return to the alienages they left behind. ]

A bad habit of mine.

( he's taken pains to do so a little less, now; hints of snow white at his temples indicate one way he's done so, darkening his hair. but he's been busy, and adelaide's been busy, and he hasn't been to her to fix it since before he left skyhold - it isn't vanity, really.

if he's honest, he prefers his hair as it naturally is. but his hair is rather striking.

her offer - or the suggestion of one - merits an expression that has the warmth of a smile without being one, a glance down toward her. )

Perhaps we'll find something of interest to go and investigate.

[ He should meet Fenris, really. Just take a look at that glowing, bright blue lyrium and the white hair and maybe Martel will feel a little less like he stands out.

Though on second thought, Fenris might try to kill him. ]

There's always something! [ And her agreement is chipper, own smile definitely present. ] Dalish are wanderers, but we tend to stick to set places; I'd love to see more.

( people trying to kill martel is an ongoing problem that he has largely brought on himself. )

There's much in this world to be curious about. I wouldn't want to too quickly settle myself in one place.

[ Fenris tries to kill everyone at least once. ]

If we go somewhere together, you'll have to be in charge of the map. I'm terrible at navigating cities.

[ And really anything remotely indoors-y and civilized. ]

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open: something grabs ahold of me tightly

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