CLOSED: Drakonis Rifter Arrival

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & Solas
WHAT: Arrivals and returns
WHEN: Drakonis 20
WHERE: The Dales
NOTES: This log is slightly backdated and closed to new rifters and Solas. However, it is safe to assume that everyone (a) survives and (b) is led by Solas to Skyhold by Drakonis 25, so you're free to make new logs and begin playing at Skyhold when you're ready to do so.

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 onto cold dirt and long grass. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself beneath a canopy of trees, illuminated deep green by moonlight in the distance and brighter green by the crystalline tear in reality hanging suspended above you.

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 the fact that you're being attacked. Surrounding you and the rift through which you arrived is a circle of six ghostly, humanoid figures, shifting colors in the dark like iridescent gems and throwing fire, ice, and bursts of physical force at whomever catches their attention.

Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are rising from the ground, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. And not far is a lone figure, coming to help.

Comments

[singularwill]

He had known that the rifters were supposedly from other worlds - had heard that news through a grapevine of his own - but it was something else to witness for himself. The elf looked so like the dreams of old, but when he spoke, he murmured words in a language Solas did not recognize, though he took the meaning easily enough.

"Do you mean the Rift, or the Shard?" He asked, taking Legolas' hand and easing the fingers further open, resting his own against them. His hand glowed green a moment, pushing back the magic of the anchor further into the shard. It was weak, but not nearly as weak as he thought it would be. Surprising. Not that it showed on his face. He lifted his head to meet Legolas' face and offered him a smile.

"The rift is a - crack, as you say, torn in the Veil between the waking world and the Fade. It is - a mistake. An error. A byproduct of the madness brought upon the world by a mad man. The shard - that, I'm afraid, will take longer to explain." He released Legolas' hand. "There. That should hold, for now. I can take a closer look, later. How do you feel? "

[parkourprince]

Legolas listened intently, because already he knew that nothing but understanding what had happened would help them. He tried, too, to not get distracted overly much by the strange appearance of the other elf, and fixed his gaze firmly on his face instead. It helped, if nothing else, that he spoke with assuredness of someone who had encountered those things before.

"But there is an explanation, then?" For the rest, though, he did have to consider his answer a little more carefully. Sure enough, the pain was gone for the most part, and he flexed his fingers in this moment of silence. How did he feel? Not right: weak and weary, like something was missing, a presence that was always there, always surrounding him was gone. "I feel changed, an effect of this Rift, or this Shard, I think, or perhaps even both-," they were connected, he knew that much, "-but you did as you said you would, the pain is soothed." By some sort of Artes that Legolas had not seen ever before: another question to join the already many.

He smiled, then, a smile that stretched lips and reflected in eyes, his eyebrows arched. "You called me friend, and done me kindness, but I have yet to know the name of this friend of mine?" He offered a polite nod, lifting a hand to rest over his heart, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."

[singularwill]

"Well met, Legolas. I am Solas. And yes - there is an explanation, of sorts, though it is hampered by my limited understanding. But I saw the shards when they were once one, and whole, and they seem to serve the same purpose. I have a theory, but I would like the time to study them in more depth, before offering it."

"You are lucky," he continued. "For yes, I have no doubt you have been changed. Little can pass through the veil unchanged, and unharmed. If you had been spirit, you would have been twisted irrevocably into a demon, and I would have been forced to slay you, as the others. Instead, I find kin. I would call that most fortunate indeed.

[parkourprince]

"Well met, Solas," he said in turn, polite and friendly, and he listened with interest obvious and clear. Each explanation sparked thoughts to unveil, questions to rear their heads in, but still, Legolas did his best to not bombard the elf with all of them at once. He sensed corruption in the demons, indeed, but he had felt none in himself. He cast a wary glance down at his hand where the shard still shone, lodged in his flesh.

"The Firstborn - regardless of the Age they were born in - are not so easily corrupted," he shook his head and curled his fingers into a fist again around the shard, hiding it from view for his own benefit. It did not hide its presence from him, but it was the second best thing he could do. "Or broken, but it seems, indeed, not wholly immune to the effects such passing can have."

The full knowledge of just how exactly he had been changed would come with time. There were only a couple things he was noticing right there and then, and he already wished them gone. Small as they were, they were unnerving, for they brought to the forefront something he truly despised.

"All the same, I would have you share your findings of these shards, and on means of their removal, if I may be so bold to ask this."

[singularwill]

Solas couldn't help a small smile.

"I think you would be surprised, to know what can be corrupted. But I am still thankful, in this instance, that you are not - and hope that it remains so." As to the lingering effects - Solas had no idea of these, so did not comment upon them.

At the question, the smile grew.

"Of course, I am happy to. I only hope that you continue to be bold enough to seek the knowledge and wisdom that you require. But on the shards themselves, I know little. Even the anchor was a magic almost wholly unknown to us, before its appearance. I believe it to be something ancient, and elven, but I doubt its makers ever expected it to survive in any fashion after its bearer's death. Death was the only way to remove the original, and - I am afraid - may be the only way to remove its shards. Perhaps not. Amputation, perhaps, might suffice, but it is a very high risk, to tamper with it. After some more study, I hope I will be of more use to you."

[parkourprince]

Neither death nor amputation were particularly appealing prospects, not now, and more than likely, not ever. It was frustrating to hear though and his expression showed as much, as did the sigh he allowed himself.

“There is nothing for it but to be patient, then, and learn as much as possible,” it went without saying, Legolas thought, that this learning did include learning about any possibility of returning home. “Do you possess one yourself as well to be able to study it easily?”

He had not noticed any strange green glow on Solas’s hands earlier, but perhaps it was duller, and besides that the angles had not allowed him to see much anyway.

[singularwill]

"No." He held up his hands, and they were clean. "Though I have heard rumour that there are some from our world who do posses them, I have yet to see them myself. Though I was well acquainted with the original, I admit that yours - and the others here - are the first I have seen of my own eyes, in this... new form."

He lowered his hands again, tilting his head.

"While it may indeed have made it easier to study, I am not sure you would wish me to be to be imperilled by it, if I am to make any headway to keep it safe for you."

[parkourprince]

In all the words, there was one that was a keyword: imperilled. Did these gems embedded in their hands a source of peril of some sort, a draw for it, perhaps? Legolas glanced in the direction of his father, and his fist balled harder and tighter around the smooth surface.

"What peril do they pose, to you or to us?" If he knew, he could prepare as best as was only possible. He would not bear the thought of allowing himself to fall, not here in this strange place, and the thought of losing his father was equally terrible. It squeezed his heart painfully, and this pain took his breath away for a handful of seconds. "I am willing to submit myself and this stone to study, if with it will assure the safety of my own and my kin."

And when he looked back to Solas, his eyes were hard with determination. The thread of trust was yet thin, but Solas was an elf, surely he would endeavour to aid him rather than harm.