We come from the land of the ice and snow

[faderifting]

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: Thedas' strange new guests are delivered to Skyhold
WHEN: 25 Harvestmere (October)
WHERE: Skyhold main gate & courtyard
NOTES: This is Part I of a two-part intro event, Part II will be posted tomorrow.

A long uphill tromp through the snowy mountains ends at Skyhold, the distant fortress finally before them in all its tumble-down glory. There is time to admire the drop into the river gorge far below as they cross the only bridge into the castle; it is briefly backed up with traffic, several carts bearing supplies and visitors stalled as the portcullis is raised. Those coming to help catalog and unload the shipment and greet the guests, or otherwise present near the front courtyard, will find themselves witness to a far more interesting arrival.

Guards at the gate carry the word quickly, and more gather, though they make no move to imprison the strange people who fell out of a rift. They just line the perimeter and keep a close watch. Perhaps this adds a level of tension to this first encounter, but it also reassures the many who are unsettled by the uncertain turn of events and keeps in check those who might attack first and ask questions later. Others will no doubt soften the Inquisition's first impression, offering food, information, and other assistance.

Medical attention is available in the tented-encircled corner of the courtyard where the wounded from Haven are still treated. The quartermaster's assistant is called upon to provide spare odds and ends of clothing to those in need, and to issue blankets for all, though they are left to fend for themselves to find places to sleep.

Any mage willing to help is called in to do so and a cluster forms in one side of the courtyard to examine the rifters. They are objects of curiosity in general, but the marks on their hands are of particular interest, resembling smaller slivers of the Herald's famous mark. Despite their best efforts, no mage will be able to provide any real insight after this initial assessment. What the rifters and their marks are is a question they cannot answer today.

But one question is answered: in the midst of all the commotion, another Inquisition agent arrives from Haven, rushing in red-faced to announce that the Herald's body has finally been found.


OOC

It will be decided (partly for OOC reasons, admittedly) that the rifters will not be imprisoned at this point, but they will be watched carefully, and the guards are on alert for any strange behavior by people with glowing hands or strange attire. And of course, their freedom can be revoked at any time if they're deemed a danger. Though there are some OOC considerations at play here, you're welcome to ICly lobby for more or less freedom for the rifters, and things may change based on IC action/consensus.

Also: Part II, aka the log for the funeral/wake/etc. event, will go up tomorrow!

Comments

[laurenande]

The voice was enough to pull Galadriel's attention from the rosy shades of dawn. She turned her head and, after a moment, the rest of her followed. She was not stood far from where Gavin slept and had spent most of the night in the garden. She smiled at him as he unfolded himself from where he'd taken his rest. His hair was disheveled and askew; there was a leaf in it.

"Gavin, mellon nín," she greeted.

He had been avoiding her, though she could not see why. She had worried, briefly, that he feared her. The possibility was, in and of itself, something that saddened her, but she dismissed it. He was not shy in combat, nor without skill of his own, and awe was not such a close relative of fear that they always went hand in hand. If not fear, though, there was little else that would make him evade her so.

Ultimately she concluded that she had offended him. She had been so amused by his name that she'd mispronounced it intentionally, an act that was both rude and of great risk. Now, obliged as he was to greet her before he dashed away, she'd finally corrected her slight.

"Did you rest well, my friend?"

[slipshot]

It was far from offense that had kept him away, and now, hearing her refer to him as a friend-- he flushed, his ears reddening.

"I-- yes, fine. Well, sort of. I think." Fantastic, Gavin. Go ahead and spout gibberish. Great impression. (The blush spread further.)

"Did- did you sleep well, my lady?"

Did she even sleep? He quickly revised the statement before she actually had a chance to answer. "I- I mean, I imagine this must seem- strange- and I hope you've been able to rest--"

He was going to bang his head against a wall, later. That much was clear.

[laurenande]

"I am rested," Galadriel replied, but her smile shifted from soft to curious as she regarded him. His answers were disjointed, but it could have been a symptom of sleep. She had known many mortals who rose from slumber and were unable to marshal their thoughts, at least for a time, so his stammering was not such a curious thing. Amid his words, however, she thought she heard something troubling.

"Are you uncertain of your sleep?"

There was no mockery in her voice. She had no idea if reckoning the quality of sleep was something done easily. If he suffered, though, she would see him aided. It was only right; he had aided her so greatly, already, that kindness was the only response she could give.

"Does something trouble you?"

[slipshot]

It was somewhat like a star from the sky fell and then worried about whether or not Gavin had eaten his breakfast. He blinked at her, unable to comprehend her worry, and then flushed even darker.

"No! Not at all, your- my lady." He'd get that right eventually, he swore to himself. "No, I was just-- ah - I'm not used to--"

His tongue betrayed him, his face so red he could feel the heat radiating, and he looked away.

"You're just very beautiful," He got out, because he was never good at lying about that kind of thing, but he also was completely at a loss for how to talk to her properly. "So it's not - It's not anything you have to worry about it, I just have to - grow accustomed to it." He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

[laurenande]

It was not the first time someone had told her as much, nor even the most embarrassing or straightforward admission she'd ever heard, but each time she heard it was something of a surprise. She was not cruel and she had no desire to be, but she couldn't quite stay the pleased laugh that rose out of her. He stood so awkwardly and his face was flushed and hot; what she mistook for troubled unease was something far less harrowing. Galadriel's expression softened and she stepped up alongside him.

"I am unsure that such a wonderful compliment should be paired with an apology, mellon nín, but I thank you for it," she said and settled a hand on his shoulder. If this was why he had avoided her, because he was overwhelmed, she would spare him her presence, but it only made her more fond of him. Such youthful things brightened her heart.

"Although...I must say, to claim me your lady is rather bold," Galadriel added with a small smile and an arched brow. The sentence had been an accident, a mere coincidence caused by his words tangling on her title, but his flush was so very endearing. Now that she knew it for what it was, she could hardly resist a bit of teasing.

"I do not object...though my husband, perhaps, would." She paused, just briefly, and leaned forward. Her voice was less teasing when she spoke again. There was no one to overhear them but she spoke quietly anyway. "You are dear and need not be sorry; I will not scorn you for such compliments."

With hardly a pause, she leaned the rest of the way and brushed a kiss on the top of his head. She regretted his discomfort, truly, but she had not been so glad, nor so amused since she had come to this land. She had missed the dawn, but the sincerity of his words had granted her the same ease.

[slipshot]

She was quite a bit taller than him, which made him feel a bit like an idiotic child, right next to her, and the more she spoke the stupider he felt, trying to protest without a word being able to come out of his mouth. He hadn't meant - He would never assume - Her husband--

But then she was leaning down and pressing her soft lips to his copper hair and soon his face was exactly the same colour. Her own golden hair had flowed down around her, so he caught the shimmer of it as it fell in front of his face.

He did managed some sort of sound, a strangled sort of "Ah--" as if in protest, and when she stood back up he was very much rooted in the spot - a shade of red that should never be seen on an elf - and completely unable to meet her eye.

"I merely -- That is, I did not wish to--" He started, trailing off in a few more half words that made no sense, and then "-- T-thank you."

[laurenande]

She drew back only just. His flush had darkened his face and his eyes evaded her with fervor. He began his excuses, to tell her how her teasing was incorrect, but abandoned the attempt when his tongue refused to cooperate with him. His stammered thanks lifted her spirit and, softly, she replied.

"You are welcome."

With that she stood up and drew away from him. Her expression was all fondness and calm, lit from within with a rosy light like the morning sun. She folded her hands into her sleeves and, before he was of a mind to flee, bowed to him.

"I shall leave you to your day, then, my friend, and will trouble you no more. I do hope, eventually, you will find my company more tolerable, but I am capable of great patience. I can wait."

She stood and, with a last smile to him, she turned and made toward the Great Hall. The gardens were peaceful, but she took no issue with surrendering them. There was work to be done, surely, and she had much to learn about this world. Her worry was assuaged and, indeed, she felt lighter and more at ease than she had for days.