faderift | we laid our names to rest along the dotted line

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we laid our names to rest along the dotted line

WHO: Lead Scout Lace Harding and YOU.
WHAT: Things that are happening with Lace and you in Guardian
WHEN: Latter half of Guardian
WHERE: Emprise du Lion or Skyhold
NOTES: There are things that are happening!! I'm writing starters for interested parties, or if you wanna do a thing, go ahead and start something yourself. If you wanna discuss you can catch me on plurk over here.

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Just like in the Mire, Bruce only makes his way to Emprise du Lion when things there had settled down more. He had fully intended to head out earlier, but the situation with Zevran had required his attention far more than a trip out here. Now that Zevran was on the road to (proper) recovery, Bruce finally had the time to come over for the things he had intended to do.

He should really know better by now that things never worked out in the way he expected them to.

The sensations were all mild at first - just an ache there, a discomfort that only lasted for a minute - but the further he went into the region the harder it was to simply stay on his feet; the heavy snow wasn't helping with the situation either. If only he could understand what was even the cause of what was happening to him.

He wasn't sure at all where he was now, or how far (or close) he was to the camp. With every step he took the world was seemingly getting fuzzier and the discomfort piled upon each other like stones. Even if he wanted to try and use magic to keep himself going, he couldn't focus well enough to cast anything. Maybe that was what he should try to do.

Focus, Ballard. He shook his head to try and clear his mind in order to do so, stumbling forward still to keep himself going at the same time. Multitasking usually wasn't a problem for him but this time it was next to impossible, and Bruce ended up being so focused on trying to clear his head that he didn't notice the branch in front of him until he tripped and fell right into the cold, cold, snow.

It was a bit hard to remember anything else after that.

She could hear shouting, which was better than what she could see, which was nothing. It was masculine, a little ways behind her, which meant it was Morgan. She could just about make out the words 'go back'.

"We're not going back," she shouted back, regretting the instant she opened her mouth as snow tumbled in, which she spat out. Doggedly, she continued on, one step in front of another, slow progress. "We're too far out. Shelter, yes. But if Bruce is alone out here, he'll be-"

Dead by morning, is what she's going to say. She doesn't, for two reasons - the first, that it stirs something buried deep in her gut. It's not quite panic, but it's close. A distant, clouded memory of Haven, losing people in the snow. Bruce was not a scout. She was not responsibile for his safety, or what would come after, the letters, the belongings, the shared grief. But he was her friend; perhaps her closest. She would not leave him out in the snow.

The second reason she doesn't is to prevent herself falling forward, Rena's hold on her scarf tightening.

"The wolf statue," her fellow dwarf observes. Harding was right about the ruins, then; she can just about make it out, a few metres to their right. Rena likely only noticed due to the buffer Harding was providing. "Shelter. But near it's feet, look-"

Harding does look.

Almost buried, half-frozen, but there is someone lying there. It could be a soldier, a Red Templar, another scout, or it could be-

Harding moves, her own scouts follow.

"Bruce," she says with relief. "You fool," she scolds to his mostly unconscious form. It doesn't last, as the relief turns to action and though the walls are half what they used to be and lighting a fire could be nigh impossible, the ruins are the closest place to take him. She's already making to dig him out. "Come on, Bruce, wake up. Bruce!"

The cold bites at him, harsh and unforgiving. Not that it was a huge surprise; the world has never found reason to be kind to him. Bruce feels himself fading as the cold numbs his senses, and deep inside he feels it starting to stir, the primal instinct to simply survive kicking in. It's duller than usual though, the sensations far more muted, and Bruce is far too tired to think of the reasons.

In the distance he thinks he hears somebody shouting his name, but Bruce can't be too sure; the cold might be playing tricks on his mind. It's far easier to ignore it, he thinks. There's no reason why anybody would try to look for him - nobody would miss him, and nobody should. He brings nothing but pain to others.

It's a good thing Harding can't hear those thoughts, then, but his continued silence tells her what she immediately needs to know - that he'll freeze to death if he stays here, and the blizzard isn't about to let up anytime soon.

"Or don't." She continues digging, loosening the snow's grip on him, talking with the barest of hopes that'll he wake before then, but he's too far gone. She's seen it before, but she is not, absolutely not, going to entertain the possibility of the worst-case scenario until there's no other option. "But you will. You're not going anywhere, you hear me? I'm getting you out of here."

She could ask Morgan to do it, or Rena to assist. But before either of them have time to look up from their combined efforts of tearing the snow that's gathered away, Harding acts. She lifts him, remaining snow and all, from the ground with the briefest of grunts as she accounts for the limbs and the height and the fact he's more than double her size. But once she does account? She manages, as if she were picking up nothing more than an injured child.

One foot, then another. It's the blizzard that actually stops her from going forward with speed, Morgan dutifully taking point as the ramshackle group makes for shelter. Only steps away, seconds, but it could feel or be hours before they make it. It's hard to tell how long anything is, out here.

It takes a while before Bruce regains conciousness again - and when he does he vaguely realizes that somebody is apparently carrying him. Even in the cold he can feel the warmth of that person where they're pressed close. It helps a little, at least in that moment.

Won't last long, he thinks to himself, mind slowly reminding him the complications of freezing like this outside. The trek to Skyhold after the destruction of Haven had been almost just as bad, but back then he had things to focus on. This... it wasn't exactly the same.

He tries to move, an instinctive reaction borne from his years of having to be constantly on the move. Bruce struggles however futilely to try and move out, not wanting to rely on the help of others. Weak as he may be he could... manage this. Somehow.

The walls are not as solid as she would have liked, and though they passed what might have once been a door, everything is crumbling away, barely enough to shield one dwarf let alone four people. Harding's beginning to think that perhaps they should have ducked behind the Fen'harel statue rather than trudge forward looking for a point with enough cover to protect them. A fire would be a luxury, at this point.

But they were closer. Morgan had sped up, and she didn't feel as burdened, even though each step was long, laborious. It becomes more-so when her unconscious cargo decides it's time for him to put in an appearence, but a look at his face and he's not really awake - just reacting. A spasm of movement, trying to- ah. Probably trying to get up and stumble away.

"Bruce," she repeats. Her words are likely lost to the blizzard. No matter. "If someone else were like this, you'd tell them to lie still. So that's what I'm telling you." His foolishness could wait. Appeal to his sensibilities, if the words even made it to him. "It's your turn to be helped. I won't even ask you to let me."

Seconds later, minutes, who knows, and she adds, "We're almost there."

Did Bruce hear it? It's hard to say, considering everything, but there is a sense of familiarity that he can't deny. Something that he can recognize, however faintly, and even that by itself is something that is rare enough for him. When you've spent years on the run there is never enough time to settle and become familiar with anything. So to feel something like this is... strange, to say the least.

Strange, but comforting enough at the same time. It's enough to have him stop, at least for now, too sluggish and tired to really do anything else. He can faintly feel movement beneath him but its hard to make out anything with the cold that still rages on.

So he does what his body does let him do - which is to give into his exhaustion and fall back unconscious, putting momentary faith and trust in that familiar feeling that he can sense. With luck, it won't end in relative disaster.

Almost there.

Harding had meant what she said. Either her words had hit a nerve or he had passed out again, and though the snow persisted, it couldn't be everywhere at once, no matter how hard it tried. There was a fortunate higher wall, a well-timed corner, and that was where they bunkered down.

The snow began to ease sometime around nightfall. What had ripped at her face hours earlier had become a gentle, intermittent flurry, which was good, because it meant that they could light a fire. She was tending it, now, prodding the smoldering ashes and the twigs and branches that were to replace it. Across the fire, Rena and Morgan were asleep, heads on packs and backs pressed to one another for warmth, a bundle of human and dwarf and cloaks. Harding had shed her cloak and most of the furs, which had been used to protect Bruce from any further onslaught by the elements.

Harding wasn't sure how late it was, how long until dawn, just that it had been a long time. Rena had woken a few times, watched her for a few minutes - a silent offer - and then went back to sleep. Harding couldn't, even if her only companion was the crackle of the fire and wayward thoughts she didn't really allow to form.

For Bruce there is no sense of time between him having fallen back unconscious and him finally waking up again. One moment there's the cold and the next he's staring up into a dark ceiling and the smell of smoke on his nose. The cold is still here, but its more tolerable now - no longer biting into his skin and numbing his mind. Although it'll be a while yet before his mind can be as sharp as it usually would be.

Still, its awake enough for him to put two and two together and know that he didn't just end up here magically. Bruce takes a moment to try and gather his strength before he starts to try and get up - not exactly a task that's easy to accomplish at the moment, with how sluggish and worn out his body feels.

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we laid our names to rest along the dotted line

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le timeskip?

timeskip \o/