open | i'm somewhere, you're nowhere

[paperwing]

WHO: Sabriel and you
WHAT: It's been a year since Sabriel became a Warden, and she's feeling a little down.
WHEN: (waves hands) Anytime before the Wardens leave west, and going forward to early Drakonis.
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: CW: descriptions of death, violence. If you wanna use this for something else you had in mind for Sab, that's cool too. If you'd like a specific starter, shoot me a PM or ping me on plurk!

Sabriel is not one to seek attention, but she is known, and noted. She could have been like any other mage, diligent, studious, one who keeps herself busy and assists when she's needed and sometimes meddles when she's not. But when you have a voice amongst the mages, and speak for them, you're noticed; when you're a Warden, the same. The Warden's reasons for being here were still not publicly known, and their actions were, as always, shrouded in mystery, and chock full of secrets.

Sabriel had a few secrets of her own that even her fellow Wardens did not know. Burdens. Secrets kept so tightly sealed and pushed away to deal with later, later, later. But, later was now. It was the time of year she dreaded, days creeping forward and her usual distractions fell short. She could keep an Old God's song at bay for so long, but what she had done? The guilt for it, the remembrance? Not so much.

Too many secrets. She was not as pure hearted as they assumed, by far. They could guess at her father being dead, if they were so inclined; an Abhorsen only rises when their predecessor falls. That was the way of it. He had been a Warden for almost three score years, so they would assume it was his Calling that took his life.

It wasn't, in the end. She had failed. It had been her.

Everyone had a time to die. She knew that, the cornerstone of everything Terciel had ever taught her. But she had never dealt with it, never faced it, and never, ever, forgave herself. And now, it was later, and she didn't know how. She was different, changed. For those who knew her, it wouldn't be difficult to notice.

There was an attempt at normality, but it was fleeting. She attends meetings without input, takes tea with a polite thanks and conversation falls short. Where once she sat in the library and studied, now her time there was spent staring from the windows, unseeing at the courtyard below. Sometimes she would hum the unfamiliar ditty that was her constant companion, but what she saw were the fields of Ghislain. She sits in her corner of the tavern in the evenings, wine and meal untouched, appetite lost, something telling for someone who rigorously planned her next meal. None of this - going through the motions, if it could be called that - was for her benefit, but for those who were going west. They didn't have to know. They had enough to deal with, and she had her own orders to follow, if she were not to go with them. Let them think it was sullenness, nothing more.

Once they go, however, she retreats to her shared room, insomnia's hold tight. She lays awake at night, and sleeps during the day, steps along the battlements when it's at its worst and fights back those damned tears when it's little better.

How else was she to deal with this but by herself? It was all she had ever done.

( WILDCARD! AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT )

Comments

[paperwing]

The reply is already on her lips. Nothing, when it should really be, everything. Sabriel swallows both down.

It's hard to share; for so long it was her and her father, and what ails a little girl can be smoothed over by a warm smile and company. For just as long again? She was alone. She had those in the Circle - peers, friends, Enchanters - but there was always a divide. It wasn't an absent parent; many suffered worse fates. No, she had simply grown up quickly, a protector for those in need. It was humourless, really, that she could not do the same for herself.

But when you're close to someone, they know. She's not surprised Ellana has noticed, nor that she's gotten straight to the point. They were friends, for one. They shared a room, for another. How could she not? It wasn't a charade she could pull off all the time, and for what she knew of it, those attempts were likely lousy.

Sabriel looks away from the valley - a valley she wasn't really looking at - and to Ellana.

Everything, she reminds herself. Who was she to lie when asked directly?

"It is almost spring," she says, hesitating. "There are some things that I have not- that happened, a year ago."

[serannas]

Ellana turns to give Sabriel her full attention. That she doesn't dismiss her is a good sign. She was hoping Sabriel wouldn't deny that she's been brought low lately. The question is if talking about it will help. Ellana hopes so. Sabriel is such a dear friend that would do anything for anybody, and Ellana can do no less. Whatever this is about, she'll try to help.

"Some not good things, I take it? And you are recalling them because the anniversary is coming up?"