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

[thedevilson]

Well Dante was used to Demons growling and hissing his name, so a softer touch was a refreshing change. Between pauses he stuck rebellion into the ground, at least until they started moving again, carrying it around wasn't the most fun he was having...but it was his. Once his hands were free he tucked them into his pockets and nodded in acknowledgement of her name.

She was strange to him, but it was probably the same for her as well and he wasn't sure why she was staring, unlike the natives her expression was smoother than an undisturbed lake. Was it appraisal, was it interest? She's be right to assume that Dante appreciated interactions that were more on the surface, not that he was incapable of piecing together more nuanced details. He'd known to many demon interactions to trust anything beneath the surface.

"I wouldn't say it's disturbing so much as annoying," Dante has to give himself kudos for watching his language, "none of it feels right...and people who just stare at you like you're some kind of circus freak...without saying anything. I don't trust it, I mean, what happens to a pig before it's slaughtered?"

Dante cast his own gaze around, alert.

"We're all going to this Sky-whatever for the same reason I guess...but I've been stuffed into enough cages to know when I feel like I'm being herded into one, I just don't see any other options. So when people stare at me, it makes me think."

That and it made him feel better to troll them all.

[laurenande]

The idioms he used were beyond Galadriel, mostly. It wasn't difficult to gather his meaning from the bite in his tone and where he restrained his words. His caution wasn't unwarranted, but it was laced with fear and the wary wisdom of people who had suffered terribly. She didn't know what his burden was, but she'd known so many warriors who had faded under the strain of such things.

Fortunately, unlike those she knew, Dante was human...if only mostly, and humans had such resilience about them that dreadful burdens rarely broke their spirits.

"There are always other paths, but I would not discard this path so quickly," Galadriel advised quietly. "You are a warrior to be contended with and they are wary as well as awed...but you are also a surprise, as are we all."

Galadriel fell silent and smiled at him.

They do not know with whom they travel. To build a cage that could hold us would be a mighty feat, indeed.

The words were just whispers, conjured in the back of Dante's mind, and with them Galadriel shared a sense of unfailing and placid confidence. Confidence in both him and her own abilities. By her measure, this trip was merely a step on a journey, not necessarily a destination.

"They are hospitable and have welcomed us, in their way, until that accord is broken you need not be bothered by curious eyes."