Into the DANGER ZONE

[faderifting]

WHO: All Rifters + the 7 natives who signed up
WHAT: Searching the ruins of Haven for survivors, an Inquisition crew finds something strange. And demons. It's kind of scary that the demons aren't the strange thing.
WHEN: Third week of Harvestmere, 9:41
WHERE: Haven
NOTES: We've broken rifters and rescuers (or "rescuers") into two groups. This log has an arrival comment for each group--you can start smaller subthreads beneath those rather than try to have an eight- or nine-person log, just incorporate surrounding chaos/fighting--and a third top-level set for the whole group's journey back to Skyhold

You were asleep-- deeply or fitfully, for the last time or just resting your eyes for a moment-- and then you were not. And wherever you were was not, anymore, replaced by nothing but the sensation of falling, tumbling into endless, bottomless nothing. If this were still a dream, you would wake before you hit the ground. You can't die in a dream, they say. In some worlds.

But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact, barely softened by snow that lies a foot deep with an icy crust that cracks beneath the force of your landing. The wind is biting cold, the sun is bright, and you are not alone. Others thud to the ground nearby, as bewildered as you, and others run up who look no less confused for having their feet beneath them.

You are also not as you were: in the palm of your left hand there glows a narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Like that you're being attacked by monsters, some tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes, some hunched and hooded with no eyes at all.

Welcome to Thedas!

Comments

[colecomfort]

The man is sharper than most, brittle, ready to break away. Like the others who came through the Rift, he's stuck, but restlessly so, a wriggling thing held by a vice.

Cole stares anyway, because of that light in his palm. And because he still wants to help. Sometimes the sharpest ones need the softest touch.

He does glance away when he gets the bow. But it's thoughtful, not ashamed.

"Apart, almost parting. Look them in the eyes; they'll stop watching then."

A beat passes.

"We're not all scared. We only want to know what happened."

((OOC: Feel free to hit up Cole's permissions post if there's something you'd prefer he focus on or stay away from!))

[thedevilson]

Whether Dante understands what Cole is softly trying to poke at or not in unclear given that he's not one for mincing words and he doesn't have the attention span for mincing words with others...that includes whatever riddle this unusual kid is attempting to buttonhole him with.

"No se vale?" Dante throws his hands up in a surrendering gesture, still eyeing Cole curiously, he's not entirely sure what he is, but the uncanny valley vibe he's getting doesn't bother Dante either who is also used to appearing to be something he technically isn't.

"Sorry, kid, I'm not very good at riddles. Name's Dante."

[colecomfort]

"I'm Cole." He says it as a matter of course, a name for a name, though he cannot say whether Dante will remember him tomorrow.

The Herald did. So perhaps there's hope.