In a moment of glorious surrender, you were broken for all the world to see...

[nadasharillen]

WHO:Nari and Sina Dahlasanor, Adelaide LeBlanc, Pel Ashara, and YOU!
WHAT: Visiting Sina in Recovery -- for whatever reason
WHEN: Beginning of Guardian, the first weeks after the Surprise Rift is closed.
WHERE: A private tent in the Skyhold garden
NOTES: Positive and negative reactions both welcome! If you're not sure what happened, check that sweet sweet 'Surprise Rift' link!



In the days following, Sina sleeps, the toll the active shard took on her thin, pale form evident in the hollows of her face; the way she'll wince and gasp, fingers grasping and twisting at the blankets. Sometimes she wakes in mumbling delirium, staring glassy-eyed at the wall. Rarely she'll open her eyes and actually see, lucid, but weak.

Always, her clansister is there. She looks like a fretful shadow of herself, wary. Her knives are sheathed but close by, lest anyone come to take issue with the small bed-ridden mage.

Wounded she might be, but she'd still opened a Rift in the heart of Skyhold.


[Adelaide.]

Nahariel is like a ghost that haunts her clansister's bedside. She talks little, sleeps less, and is only away for the briefest of reasons--one of which is to make sure Adelaide never runs out of tea when she's there. One day, as she sets down another cup, she suddenly and quietly speaks.

"I don't think I ever thanked you properly. Or your spirit."


[Pel.]

At some point during the next days Pel will look up to see the swarthy hunter often seen in Sina's company, with very little sound to accompany her appearance beside a polite throat-clear. She looks... tired.

"Pel?" She asks--mostly a formality.

"Sina was... mumbling in her sleep. She said your name once or twice, and..." she'll trail off, and run a hand through her hair with a sigh. Some of it sticks up afterwards--it doesn't look as if she's taking care of herself much.

"I know you fought not too long ago, and you were both hurt, but... would you come and see her? I think she'd like that."


[Everybody.]

[Bring flowers? Study her? Cry a bit? Be accusatory? Come on in!]

Comments

[nadasharillen]

Nahariel looks up from her sketching, the beginnings of a simple halla-horned circlet traced out at the bottom of what looks like an unfinished letter. Given the sketch now takes up part of the page, it seems destined to remain unfinished. Her eyes widen slightly, taking in the well-dressed, graceful, and composed woman who'd come to visit her clansister. Everything around the Iron Lady seemed simple and rough in comparison.

She had never seen shem'len nobility before--and this woman was almost certainly one. Nari immediately resented the woman almost as much as she found her impressive. But her words were as quiet and sympathetic as her voice was cultivated, and so Nari replied without malice.

"Not well, but there are good things to be found each day. Her breathing is clearer today, and her fever is less." A pause, as the hunter turns to rest the back of her hand along Sina's cheek. She nods slightly. Less. Not gone, but less. Although she felt so often she could hardly tell. "She has not woken yet, not truly. Sometimes she speaks, but the words mean nothing."

[mythalenaste]

"I'll do whatever I can for her." There is an ache in Pel's chest, as if she has somehow failed Sina, and as if her failure is what caused this disaster. She almost dreads what would happen if her presence did make Sina better, because it would mean this is at least partly her fault.

[nadasharillen]

Guilt recognizes guilt, and the hunter's face softens slightly. "We can't change the past," she says quietly, "but the future, at least, is ours." She'll gesture towards the door. "She's resting in a tent in the garden if you've time."

[mythalenaste]

Pel nods, following Nari's gesture. Her breath catches as she realizes she's being terribly rude. "I...don't think I learned your name. You know I'm Pel. I--"

She stops just inside the garden to gather a few flowers. She wants to put them in Sina's hair.

[nadasharillen]

"Nahariel," she'll reply, waiting while Pel stops for a moment to gather a few of the fresh-blooming flowers. "I'm sorry. I... haven't been too forthcoming in trying to meet all of the People here," she'll say with a tinge of guilt. She'd meant to, truly, but the bustle, trying to find a place, trying to make sure Sina found a place... Her First had done it much better than she had, finding friends with the same ease she grew plants or gentled halla. Nari, well... didn't.

[mythalenaste]

Pel shakes her head. "I'm also a bit of a loner. I completely understand. You don't owe me anything." Bright flowers will look lovely against Sina's pale hair. She stands and continues with Nahariel toward the tent.

[nadasharillen]

Nari opens her mouth to disagree--that it wasn't about owing any one person so much as owing the People--but then closes it again, the words sounding silly and stilted in her head. Instead she walks to the tent, lifting the flap so Pel can duck inside.

[mythalenaste]

Pel enters, all too schooled at appearing imperturbable in these situations, so her face is impassive but for tension around her mouth. She settles in beside Sina and sets the flowers aside, gently touching the girl's forehead as if to check for a fever.

"Sina?"

[el_tybs]

There isn't a door to knock on to make his presence known so instead Sam clears his throat in a loud enough manner to get someone's attention. He doesn't stick his head in right away, having learned from a previous experience to wait until you're told to enter.

[nadasharillen]

Instead of calling out in response, Nari will come to the tent flap. She smiles when she sees who it is, and it brightens her weary face.

"Sam. I'm glad to see you. Come on in," she says, holding up the flap to allow him to duck through, and then returning to her seat by the cot. "She's still not waking regularly, but... I think she's getting better." The hunter draws her knees up, resting her chin on them.

"I didn't think it was going to be this bad. Didn't want to think."

[el_tybs]

"Hey Nahariel," he says back, giving a small smile at the immediate invite and walking into the tent as quickly as possible so that as little cool air got into the space.

"At least she's waking up some," he offers, putting down the pot in his left hand down then holding up a basket to Nari. "I know it's the garden but I figured she'd like to see one of them in the tent. And I figured you could use something to eat - you're staying in here most of the time I take it?"

[nadasharillen]

She'll take the basket, looking through it curiously with an expression that said she'd forgotten she was hungry until that very moment.

"Serranas. I'm sure you're right. After all, even after she wakes it might be some time before she feels well enough to walk about the garden. It was thoughtful of you."

[eolasemah]

Sina has been in and out of consciousness, and even when she's awake, her movements are so small and careful that it can be difficult to tell the difference if one isn't already looking at her. Remaining asleep, drugged with herbs that dull pain that are periodically boosted by Adelaide's magic, is generally preferable to being awake and helpless, thirsty, with each breath feeling like so many knives in her small chest.

At the sound of her name, Sina stirs. It's just a minor shifting of her head, her eyelids fluttering open and then closing again as she angles her face toward the sound. She winces, then opens her eyes again, blearily, to see Nari and Pel. She gives the barest of smiles, too exhausted to do much more, and not daring to speak for fear of working her lungs too hard.

[nadasharillen]

Nahariel catches her breath slightly at the blinking smile, breathes "Aneth ara, da'halla."

She'll move to sit beside Pel, and then pause for a moment in a half-crouch. It's obvious she wants to be here, but, perhaps there are things the other First might want to say without an audience. So instead, she straightens to step out for a moment. "I'll fetch you some tea, Pel. And some fresh water from the well, da'vhenan."

[mythalenaste]

"Ma serannas," Pel says politely to Nahariel, understanding the intent behind the tea. She would like a little time alone with Sina, to speak with her. "I'll be right here if she needs anything."

[eolasemah]

'Aneth ara', Sina mouths back, and she winces as she takes another breath. Although she is undoubtedly awake, there is still a sluggish quality to her, the herbal remedies-- many of which, ironically enough, she made herself-- keeping her relaxed and in as little pain as possible. All the same, her eyes fix on Pel, and her thin fingers wiggle weakly in her friend's direction, as if she reaches for her but merely lifting a hand is too much effort. Her expression shows no indication that she harbors ill will or resentment towards Pel; on the contrary, despite the weariness in her eyes, she looks relieved to see her.

[mythalenaste]

"Vhenan." Pel sees that questing hand and threads their fingers together. Abruptly, she is nine years old again, guiding someone to death. Her hand trembles in Sina's.

"I brought flowers to put in your hair. Would you like that? Blink twice for yes, three times for no."

[eolasemah]

Sina grips Pel's hand as best she can, her small smile broadening. At the question, she blinks once, and then on the second, manages a tiny, stiff nod as well. Her face tenses in a wince as she relaxes her head again, but then the smile returns as she looks up at Pel.

[mythalenaste]

Pel's hands calm a little as she braids Sina's hair--two rope twists in the front, mingling with the rest of her hair. Then she decks Sina in flowers, framing her sweet face in fair petals.

"Morrigan and I finally translated those Veilfire runes from Keeper Hawen," she says, trying to remain relaxed so she won't over-excite Sina. "They're directions to the lost Temple of Dirthamen. Leliana has granted my request to fund an excursion."

[eolasemah]

Sina's eyes widen, and though she winces again at the sudden intake of breath, it's impossible to mask how intrigued the news makes her. She opens her mouth as if wanting to say something, thinks better at it, and simply looks at Pel imploringly. She wants to know more.

[mythalenaste]

A warm smile, unhindered by Pel's usual self-consciousness about how her smile looks.

"We're going next month. Word is the last people to seek it out was a group of treasure hunters who were never seen again. I'm sure the Veil must be very thin there. We may need to purge the area of harmful spirits, but when we have--Sina, it is one of our holy sites. And you have helped to uncover it."

[eolasemah]

At that, tears spring to Sina's eyes. Perhaps things will get better after all, with the force of the Inquisition behind them, with people actively trying. Her encounter with Merrill springs to mind, one of several examples she's seen recently of the People working hard to right the wrongs against them. Perhaps they won't all disappear into the annals of history. There is hope.

She can't resist, and though it hurts her, Sina manages to croak: "...I wish..." and after a breath, "...I could.. come." The words are only half-voiced, half-articulated, but her intent with them is clear.

[mythalenaste]

"Don't speak." Pel is deeply moved by the effort Sina makes to express her desire, though. Her smile wanes. "If we can make sure it's safe, I'll take you there myself one day. Maybe in summer, when you're feeling better. I'll just make Merrick carry you."

It isn't likely to actually happen. If Sina can barely breathe now, what are the chances of her surviving until summer? But these fantasies are important to convalescence. Planning a life ahead of illness is crucial.

[eolasemah]

Speaking was a mistake-- not only do her lungs hurt, but that whole region, including her throat, is still sore from the shock. She squeezes her eyes shut from the pain, nodding through it nonetheless with a small smile. She will go, she decides. By summer, this will all be sorted out. It must be.
In the meantime, she's exhausted from even that minimal effort.

[madame_de_fer]

In deep silence, Vivienne takes in this information, sorting it, pondering the nuance of every word. It is unlikely this caretaker is in any way playing the Game, but it is rather a force of habit for her regardless. Still, for a woman who spends much of her life behind a mask, even when not wearing one, she's slipping and allowing her true concern shine through.

"I see..." Indeed she does see, and what is before her eyes is not promising. She keeps her voice low, so as to not disturb what is clearly much needed slumber. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Vivienne is no healer, but there are considerable resources available to her which could be vitally important. If only they knew more, it would make the cure go better.