faderift | We come from the land of the ice and snow

We come from the land of the ice and snow

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ariadne hadn't been hurt much in the battle. A few bumps and bruises, but nothing she wasn't used to. She wasn't cold either. A nice lady named Korrin had given her a cloak. Admittedly, she was so petite that she was practically drowning in it, but it gave her all the warmth she could want. Really, the reason why she ventured into the medical tent was unadulterated curiosity. She knew next to nothing about the healing profession, but there was something kind of wonderful about it. She liked the idea of taking someone who was broken and putting them back together again. In another lifetime, she would have enjoyed studying the art of healing.

But she had to live with this one.

Bundled up in her cloak, she slipped inside. There was so much activity--and so many unfamiliar scents--that she didn't know where to look first. More or less at random, she turned her attention to a young boy, who looked only a few years older than she was. Rounded ears usually meant Human, but she couldn't pick out his scent right away.

He seemed oddly worried though.

There were others in the tent that needed healing as not all had been as lucky as Ariadne. Simon was currently in the middle of helping one, a soldier who had been left with an impressively bloody gash going across his torso. Normally he'd be able to better focus on tasks such as this one, but Simon couldn't ease the lines in his brow or the tightness in his jaw as he worked. At least he wasn't letting his distractions impact his performance.

The mage's hands swept slowly over the wound, a soft light emanating from them and converging back on the injury. He worked slowly, taking his time weaving the spell and as he did, the cut was slowly knitting itself back together.

Movement caught the corner of Simon's eye, and the mage dared a quick look off his patient to spot Ariadne. The girl was watching him, and as Simon was only able to get a quick glance he assumed she was there in need of healing.

"How badly are you hurt?" he asked.

She decided to take his acknowledgment as an invitation to move a little closer. It was wrong to startle a healer at work, but now he knew she was there. Besides, seeing the way that the light glowed as he moved his hands...it was strangely beautiful.

"Oh, I'm all right," she said. Her voice was bell-like, a bit younger than the rest of her looked. "I was actually wondering if there was anything I could do to help? You've all been working so hard all day and I..."

Well, to be completely honest, she felt a little useless. And it wasn't a feeling she particularly enjoyed.

The cloak she wore hid her well, making it hard to tell if she was injured at all, but Simon wasn't about to send anyone away at a glance alone. When she spoke however it was clear that she wasn't in any sort of pain and for a moment he nearly told her to leave to make room for someone who was. But Simon wasn't that stern a healer...and the immediate offer to help helped her case.

"How much do you know about healing and medicine?" he asked. It wasn't to judge her ability, at least not in a negative way. Simon needed to know how best to make use of that offer.

The soldier under his care grunted softly, forcing Simon to shift his focus back on the spell with a grimace. He couldn't let himself get distracted like that.

"There's a basin there with boiled water and a cloth, bring them here," he directed. Even if she knew next to nothing, he could use an extra set of hands to clean up the blood and make things easier for him to see.

Eager to please, to be of use, Ariadne hurried to where he indicated, fetching the basin and the cloth. Despite the enormous cloak, she moved with grace. Alastrians had an extraordinary sense of balance, which was probably part of the reason why they lived in trees.

"I don't know a lot about healing," she admitted, bringing the basin over. "But I used to tend to the medicinal herb garden in Valeria."

That wasn't part of her duty. Lysia had recruited her and groomed her to be a spy, not a gardener. But she had a certain touch for plants. And being around them reminded her of home. So it had become a favorite sort of past time. The royal healers under Amanda were fond of having Ariadne around and had taught her how to take care of each and every plant.

Simon's lip quirked at her answer. It was something, at least... If she was one of the rifters then the knowledge of herbs might not be applicable, if what people were saying about them were true. On the other hand it if she knew the basics it would hopefully be easy for her to relearn. At the immediate moment however, even if she was an expert in Thedas herbology it wouldn't do Simon's current patient much good. The soldier looked on, slightly worried as the mage chose to give Ariadne a chance...but he wisely did not voice a complaint while Simon was still in the middle of mending him.

"We can worry about which herbs you're familiar with later," he said, nodding for her to kneel on the opposite side of the cot from him, the soldier in between them. "For now, I need you to help me clean away the blood... Start by soaking the cloth and wringing it out, then let it soak up the blood so I can see what I'm doing... All right?"

She didn't even flinch. Really, it was no different from the sort of work Princess Amanda put her to when a fresh wave of refugees flooded the border of Valeria. Although, sadly, they were becoming fewer and farther in between. Good for the kingdom's resources. Bad for those would-be refugees.

Ariadne knelt down on the opposite side of the cot and followed Simon's orders, soaking the cloth and ringing it out. With a gentle touch, she began to carefully clean the soldier.

And, as was her wont, she had to try to comfort him. "It'll be all right," she said soothingly. Occasionally, the knights back home used to tease her, calling her cloyingly sweet. But the refugees were often grateful. And she figured the soldier would be too. After all, he was no doubt scared and in pain. And that was universal. "The healer here is going to take good care of you," she promised the stranger, gently brushing the cloth against his skin. "And you'll be as good as new. I promise."

The blood was distracting in more ways than one. It blocked Simon's view for one thing, including a dangerous level of guesswork to the spell. Also, in his experience, blood left to flow freely inside a deep cut like the one he was currently working on only led to complications later on. Though the most troublesome aspect was what Simon had been shown about it up North. There was power in blood, every mage knew it, but ever since Simon had been shown how to use it he could feel it. Like an itch at his fingertips, the horrifyingly tempting possibility to tap into that power and use it to save this man's life.

It would be a quick way to get himself killed. All the more reason to ask this strange woman's help in getting rid of the temptation completely.

"That's better already, thank you," he said, breathing out the words and smoothing his brow. The soldier underneath them swallowed and grimaced slightly at the touch of the cloth, but another wash of magic over him had him relaxing as the pain eased. "Yes, it won't be much longer now. Just keep relaxed as you are and you'll be fine...barely even a scar to show for it later."

Simon glanced up briefly, flashing a brief but grateful smile towards Ariadne.

Ariadne smiled back. Hers was a warm, genuine smile, that reached her eyes, making them gleam like silver coins. She liked the man's bedside manner. Not all healers had it in them to be so delicate.

She knew from firsthand experience.

"Oh, but a little scar," she said, turning her attention back on the soldier. "And just think of the stories you'll be able to tell people who ask about it. I'm sure you'll impressed any girl...or boy...you like. You can tell them anything you like. No one would ever question someone with such a scar."

She really did have a nice smile, surprising considering what he'd heard about the rifters... But then everything was a rumor at this point to Simon, and he had more important matters to focus on than how she managed to seem so warm so readily. Simon tilted his head as he looked back down at his patient, forcing the smile back off his face as she brought up bragging rights.

"Well, if that's something you think you'd like, I could try to leave you something more impressive," Simon offered, tone idle and teasing.

"Ah, n-no, that's all right ser..." the soldier stammered, looking between them and turning pink rather than the pale he'd been before. "Whatever you think is best s'fine with me..."

Simon broke into a wry, broader smile, straightening his back and working on the last workings of the spell. He nodded once more to Ariadne, gesturing for her to pull her hands back as the warm light increased in strength, gradually but finally completely sealing the cleaned wound back together.

Ariadne was pleased that she'd been able to put the soldier at ease. But even more so that she'd managed to coax a smile out of the healer. He seemed so awfully serious. And she supposed that was good. Healing was serious work. Still, from what she'd seen so far, it had probably been a very long time since he'd had a moment of levity, much like the healers who attended to the refugees back home.

Sadly, there were fewer and fewer refugees each day. The realm was falling. But Ariadne still clung to the hope that there was a solution out there. They just had to find it.

And the same would have to go for this place too.

She pulled her hands back, standing up so she could be at eye level with the soldier. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Sir..." She faltered, not knowing the healer's name. "...Healer did a great job."

As common as magic could be in Thedas, the soldier still couldn't resist pressing his hands over the thin white line that had once been a gory wound and letting out a quietly marveled huff of breath. Barely any blood remained at all, thanks to Ariadne. Left to heal on its own it would have been much worse...or more likely, would have eventually killed him. The soldier made another grunt as he started to sit up, Simon leaning back and taking the chance to rest for just a moment as his patient gathered his things to leave offering several hurried 'thank you's as he went.

When Simon opened his eyes again the soldier was on his way out, leaving him alone with the rifter. They finally had a moment of peace it seemed, at least until the next patient came in.

"It's Simon," he finally remembered to offer, brow lifting and inclining his head. "Just Simon, is fine...and you?"

It was a small thing. But for someone who didn't like sitting still, wiping away the blood made Ariadne feel moderately accomplished. It was, after all, the first useful thing she'd really been able to contribute to anyone since the fight. And that, in and of itself, had been...

Well.

She still didn't know what to think.

But she turned her attention away from her thoughts for the time being, offering Simon a warm smile. "A pleasure to meet you Simon," she said. It was a funny name. A strange name. But she decided it suited him. "My name is Ariadne," she added. "But you can call me 'Airy' if you like. Almost everyone back home does."

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Airy," he returned with a weary but warm smile. All that was left of the soldier was a bloodstained blanket, which Simon decided was best replaced before another patient came in. He started on that, pulling the blanket down and folding it neatly in half, hiding the stain while gesturing for the rifter to make herself comfortable on a nearby low stool..

"You're not injured, right?" he asked, sure he had already but wanting to be sure now that he didn't have someone immediately at risk of bleeding out to be tended to. There was also the chance that she'd neglected to mention one while he was busy and would be more willing now that they were alone.

A capable fighter, Ariadne had managed to hold her own in the chaos that heralded--or accompanied?--her arrival. There was some blood under her fingernails, but none of it was her own. It bothered her, of course. She didn't exactly revel in harming others. But it had been a choice between a rampaging demon and a nice boy who had saved her skin.

She frowned a little, glancing at her hands. "Well," she mused. "It's not an injury exactly. But this thing in my hand really hurts."

Her palm wasn't aching nearly as much as it had been before. But the glowing shard made her feel wildly ill-at-ease. And she was told it was magic.

...maybe the magic responsible for changing the color of her skin?

Ariadne was hardly an expert in that sort of thing.

Simon knew more about the fade than most, being tied to it as a mage...but there was so much to it that he was hardly an expert. All he knew was that these rifters had marks, similar to the late Herald's, which was still just something Simon had heard murmurings of. How to make it go away was quite beyond him, at least not without a long time to study them. The pain, however, absolutely was something Simon felt confident he could help with.

"Let me see?" he asked, holding out a hand to take Ariadne's. "What's the pain like? Sharp, dull...?"

Ariadne hesitated--for a second or two--before she slowly opened up her palm to Simon.

It was nothing personal. Well, it was, but in a different sort of way from usual. Although she'd spent a great deal of time pretending to be Human, gotten used to their ways, one thing that always managed to put Ariadne ill-at-ease was the casual way that they seemed to touch each other's hands. For an Alastrian, it was an incredibly intimate gesture. The beginning of an Alastrian's kiss. She'd never administered the kiss herself but...

Well. She understood it.

But no. He was just a healer. A kind soul. This was nothing like that. Still, her voice was a little quieter when she said, "It was sharp at first...then dull..."

Simon had absolutely no idea what he was insinuating by asking to take Ariadne's hand. The hesitation was assumed to be because of his calling. Watching a mage work was one thing, but it never failed to be something else when a mage wanted to use his magic on them. But Simon wasn't interested in casting anything just yet...who knew how it would react to the mark. All he wanted to do was examine.

"But it hasn't been getting better?" he asked to clarify, cradling her hand in his palm and drawing it closer to look. The mark itself was difficult to really see, only appearing to be a strange green light emanating from her skin. Not a wound, though the redness around it made it clear that it was irritating her.

"Let's try something..." Simon reached behind him, looking over his shoulder to find one of the poultices he'd put together earlier, being sure to mind her hand and not jostle it. "...and see if numbing the area will help."

A strip of soft cloth, a mixture of cool herbs, which was then bound carefully over the mark would let the medicine soak the skin and hopefully soothe the pain without triggering any wayward magic.

She let him do his work, all traces of her earlier uncertainty melting away. Her thoughts turned to other things though. Could she even administer the Kiss any more? She wasn't entirely sure what she was. Her skin was the wrong color now. And she couldn't make it go away. And yet, she still retained her sensitivity. She could still scream like an Alastrian. Use her claws. Feel the scars on her back.

So what was she now, anyway?

It was a question she had to approach with caution. Especially given the fact that she knew these people were afraid of demons. But maybe, maybe there was a way to do it without arousing too much suspicion.

"May I ask you a strange question?"

Simon barely glanced up as she spoke, getting to the finishing touches by then. Since it was going over her palm the poultice needed to be bound carefully. It would do Ariadne no good if it came loose with movement, but making it tight enough it cut off the flow of blood would be even worse.

"Hm? Of course..." he said, gaze flicking up briefly before looking back down, a brief check to see if he was causing any undue pain as well as to show he was listening.

If the rumors about the rifters were true, Simon imagined she would have a number of strange questions...

The best lies were always the truth. Lysia had taught her that when training her to do the messy work that she sometimes had to do. And Ariadne was very adept, even if she hated it.

"Well," she said slowly. "I feel like something about me changed when I came through the rift." Truth enough. "Everything looks so strange." Also true. Skyhold was nothing like the landscape she was used to back home. "And I'm just wondering...how I look to you, exactly. I mean...when you look at my skin, for example, what color do you see?"

There. All of it the truth. But hiding the ultimate lie.

Well. That was certainly a strange question. Oh it had started out innocuously enough, or at least strange within acceptable parameters. The mark was certainly a change, and if she was from the Fade (or someplace beyond it) then he could see how Thedas would appear strange...

But how she looked? Did she expect some illusion at work, or did she no longer trust her own senses?

The confusion played visibly across Simon's face, his brow lifting and his lips twisting into a thin frown before his features settled back again, looking down at her hand again for more than just his work. The bandaged palm was turned over, letting him see the back of her hand and along her wrist.

"It's...about the same as mine," he said. "A very pale pink, I would say. As for the rest, well, you look like a young human woman. Long dark hair, brown eyes...I think you look rather pretty?"

Pale pink. So her eyes weren't deceiving her. She's almost hoped it was true. As much as she'd always wished to be Human, losing her Alastrian heritage now and here of all places--in this strange and unpredictable place--felt more like a punishment. How could she protect herself if she didn't even know what she was?

She shook her head. "I thought there might be something wrong with my eyes," she sighed. Which was a half-truth. Or maybe wishful thinking. "Maybe it's just taking time to adjust from coming through the...rift?" A whole truth, although not so much about her eyes. "The last few days have been confusing."

The full truth.

Ariadne flexed her fingers a little bit. The bandage was helping. At least, she decided it was. "Thank you," she added, turning her eyes up. "For the compliment. You're very pretty too."

Edited 2015-12-04 13:27 (UTC)

At first it almost sounded like she expected her skin to be anything other than what he'd told her, but then when she mentioned her eyes that seemed to be a more plausible explanation. Maybe passing through the rift had done something to her her vision, and the colors she saw now weren't what they were supposed to be. The Fade could do stranger things to people to be sure.

Yet as Simon lifted his head peering as if to check how her eyes were dilated in the lantern light, she was thanking him. He only smiled gently, thinking she meant the poultice at first, but it shifted when she instead brought up the compliment and went so far as to return it.

"...no one's ever called me that before," he said, slightly stunned.

Compliments were another facet of the Human experience that Ariadne had yet to master. Mostly because they were all nonverbal in the Alastrian culture. You thanked another person by running your hand through their hair. And you acknowledged a job well done with a slight jerk of the chin.

Humanoids had to make everything complicated.

"I don't see why not," she argued, content to drift away from the topic of her skin color and what it was supposed to be. "You have a pleasing face."

We come from the land of the ice and snow

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