faderift | 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

For the moment, she's staying close. It won't last, it never does, but he's her touchstone and she needs him near. Even if that means being crammed in with the dying, the wounded, the screams without voices. Her eyes are fixed on one man who appears to be staring out at nothing, physically mended as best anyone could but so far away. Back in the fields of Redcliffe as they were burning.

Her fingers twist in the hem of her own blanket, fixated, while Simon darts here and there.

Though it's difficult for River, having her only a glance away is actually comforting for Simon. Knowing where she is and being able to check on her at any time puts Simon's mind at ease and lets him focus on the wounded. It's a constant and steady drain on his reserves, but it's something he's trained for and he looks almost comfortable when his path of mending takes him her way.

His focus slips when he notices the way she's staring and Simon slows down, reaching a warm hand out to touch her shoulder and hopefully pull her attention away from whatever it is that has her looking so lost.

"Hey..."

She feels the weight of his hand, the warmth of it, and it's like a tug of a lifeline when she feels the current pulling her away. The man's mind isn't loud but it's easy to lose oneself in the bramble, the soft ambient sounds of despair. A little further and he could see so much...

Simon's voice is what cuts through in the end, and River's eyes drop to her hands.

"He's not coming back."

Simon's chest tightens slightly as he draws in his next breath, the mage quickly deciding this needs more than a moment. He kneels down next to her, letting his share of the work be set aside, something he's loathe to do but even an inkling that River needs him is reason enough to let it happen.

"Who..." he starts to ask, following where she had been looking and sees the man, still and staring but still breathing. He's not one of Simon's patients, but he doesn't appear to still be injured. But the open eyes and the still features suggest something is wrong...something he's not sure he wants River to be associated with, but Simon doesn't himself sink into that fear just yet.

"...where is he going?"

"Back to the place where it happened. He can't leave."

Her dark eyes shift towards her brother, always so concerned. For her, yes, but also for those who came into his care. He was meant for this.

No. For more than this. And she took him away from that. That guilt still resides in her even when she has no way to properly express it. Instead her fingers twitch against the edges of her robe sleeves.

"He carries the echoes inside of him. The rest is gone, all gone quiet now."

It's something familiar, though only faintly. An issue Simon has read about but hasn't seen much of first hand. His education in Cumberland saw little practical application until he ran away, and then there were all sorts of reasons for people to get bloodied up that needed his attention. It reached a point where even he had to wonder if the Circle protected him too closely if there was so much in the world that could be helped.

Now isn't the time for such doubts, however. Now Simon needs to furrow his brow and remember what he'd learned... Sometimes, after a particularly bloody battle, the memories stuck with people and left scars that his magic could not reach. What River describes sounds a lot like that...but how can she be able to tell just from watching?

"Can you..." This isn't the best place for this, but Simon can't imagine not trying to learn, to figure out what it is that River sees and how to fix it. Simon's voice is a whisper near her ear as he winds an arm over her shoulder. "Can you hear them? The echoes?"

She swallows thickly, nodding before turning her head. "Rain on the window," she murmurs, burying her head against his shoulder. "Tapping, but it's quiet. They hear him on the other side, but he's not what they want. The shape is wrong."

A quiet puff of breath and she makes a small, discomforted sound. "They're too bright here. Can't shut your eyes."

And it hurt, in a way, like a constant migraine. But she lived with it. They both managed as best they could given the circumstances. Sometimes things just tended to...drift. Maker knew where they'd end up.

He squeezes her gently at the noise she makes, instinctively wanting to soothe. It was surprising at first how easy it comes to him...before finding her up North, River had been a child when he last saw her. Maybe it's because he still sees her as one, small and vulnerable and in desperate need of help. And there's no one else who will be there for her, not after their parents...

Simon doesn't let himself think about that. He focuses instead on what River's telling him...not easy when she's back to making so little sense. At least he thinks he can follow her near the end.

"Do you need to move?" he asks, reaching up to sooth his hand over her brow, trying to shield her eyes as if he can block out the 'bright echos' somehow. "Would distance help...?"

We come from the land of the ice and snow

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