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

"Just because you don't see something doesn't mean it's not there." But she's thinking of krakens, of whales so mighty they could swallow six ships at once, hags that whip lightning out over the sea and mighty chariots driven by seafoam horses, all the half-glimpsed things she's seen when the waves are wild or in fleeting moments at night on waters so calm they reflect the stars and she thought they might sail up and up to trace fingers against the cold hard shell of the moon. "You name time periods? At most we just have the reign of a particular ruler, there's nothing quite so proper about it." There's an appeal to it though, and maybe it's like her home, where things can still live even if it's through stories that come from a half-drowned soul, gasping through salt-ravaged lips.

What a thing to see one, to watch something almost a shadow taking flight, so long as she's out of the firing line that is.

"My mother doesn't look old enough to have a daughter my age and the lines my father has are his scars and his laughter lines, all at his eyes, like an old map. I don't know how much call they'll have for my skills exactly, thieves are everywhere and don't usually cast a damn silhouette with their own hands, not if they want to be successful." And yet she manages to smile herself although it's strange not to have a real challenge beyond just finding somewhere to rest her head for the night without losing anything to frostbite.

"If you're in the back doesn't that mean you could hurt a comrade though? When you fight you should have awareness of everything but there are moments when it narrows down to just your blade and their eyes," her hands flutter as she speaks, unconsciously moving them like two foes circling one another, "and you can only think about not today, not my throat, not my lung, not my thigh and how to block them even when you're so tired it aches." Duels can last for hours sometimes because so much of it is in the show, in the strutting and the insults, all the flourishes that wear you down until it stops being something like art and it's just an ugly scrap with sweat in your eyes and blood and sand all over your clothes and hands. "A magic sword? Like in stories? Although usually they have to go find this magic sword and it's some humble boy or girl who lives on a farm or guts fish for a living, not someone making a magic blade." What she's picturing is something made of fire because, surprise surprise, Korrin's magic is her only real frame of reference for what it looks like.

Korrin just shrugs, increasingly comfortable and certain that her chair is going to be an impromptu bed in due time. The brandy and Araceli's company are definitely taking the edge off of the day, that's for certain. "It's a literal magic sword, as in they conjure a spirit blade into existence when they need it. It's pretty flashy, I admit, one of the reasons why I was tempted. As for being in the back, no, I'm pretty good about ensuring that friendly fire doesn't happen. Being up front, for me, is where things go wrong. Unless I get a spirit blade of my own, I'm just accepting that fact."

Maybe...but she's still betting that more likely than not, her magical studies will take her elsewhere. "And yes, every hundred years the current Divine gives the name of the next Age. This one's not even halfway done, so what the next one will be called, I can't even begin to guess. Tevinter has their own calendar, I think, but they they always seem to do every thing differently. Different Chantry, different Divine, and so on. If you want to know more about them, Maevaris or Krem will give you a better picture."

She looks Araceli over, her gaze speculative before she flashes a grin. "It doesn't have to be about that, you know. I bet your charm will take you where stealth can't, and once people get over the whole rifter business, they'll remember the Herald of Andraste once had your mark. That will get the interest of many, and that can be used. How, I don't know. I've never been one for politics, or the Grand Game of the Orlesian court."

"You know that a conjurer is usually just an old person in odd clothes where I’m from, a spirit blade doesn’t actually mean anything to me." The only spirits she can really list are all alcohol and as amusing as that would be, she’s not so ignorant as to think her mental image is at all accurate. But then she's been clocked in the head with heavy bottles and done just the same so she could vouch for it as a technique if needed. "But you could still do damage with a staff, no? I suppose you must be used to shooting things out of it but you're taller than most of the men I've ever known, height counts for a lot in a fight unless you know how to turn it against a person."

She wouldn't mind giving pointers either but that's just a touch too brazen even for her when they're still getting to know one another and she's clearly not going to know just what a Castilean is typically like. "The Divine is the old dead holy lady, or that much I've gathered, how bizarre, one person getting to name such a thing for all the world and the whole thing sounds so complicated. You don't just worship what's around you? Take joy in it? Thank it for whatever comes your way?" Still, she makes a mental note of the names even if religion as organised as any of this makes her head spin. "I've only ever prayed to the sea and the things in it, to the maid up in the moon but I'm the child of a Bride and a Son, we have a special sort of luck in the world, it moves us where we need to be."

What does any of this say to that luck though? Will it still reach her here? She can't imagine that this is what was wanted and needed for her and yet she was on the water, wasn't she? The sea flows through all of Castileos and she ran over the top of it and then she was pulled here. Maybe it's as dangerous to take comfort from it as it is to find none.

"The Grand Game? I confess, and I hope you don't look at me differently, that I do take some interest in politics. I know more about how it works than is perhaps good for me though I can't say I enjoy it but knowing how it works? Well, it means you know how to dismantle it, if you take my meaning." Another charming smile is offered, along with a hand being laid over Korrin's lest the Vashoth think her some lover of all that nonsense but she hasn't touched on her other life at all and the last year has been so much politics and dressing a certain way, listening and talking and whenever you're doing one you're really doing the other.

That smile is infectious and Korrin ends up smiling back, not taking offense since it's not as though Araceli's given her any cause. "True enough. The Grand Game is...well, bluntly, Orlesian noble bullshit. They fight each other for power and influence, but never openly. It's all done in secret, behind those ridiculous masks of theirs. That's all I know or care to know, honestly. Those people have nothing to do with my life, nor I theirs. Not unless my company gets paid, but even then, we tend to steer clear of petty noble stuff. Too risky and too annoying."

Korrin always says just what's on her mind, so is it any wonder she can't stand those who take the complete opposite approach? She'll never understand them, nor they her.

"It depends on who you ask, about religion. Andrastianism is the major one, the only one with any real power, but the Avvar have their gods, and so do the elves. The dwarves worship the Stone. I don't claim to be an expert on any of those ways, but I know they exist." She shrugs, willing to elaborate on what little she knows about any if Araceli's interested, but it's not her forte. "I don't care for the Chantry's politics, but I'd put myself in the camp of having some sort of belief in the Maker. It just doesn't suit me to be organized and pompous about it."

"Oh nobles do that everywhere, there's always some dance where they keep changing the steps and fighting for the lead. The masks intrigue me, I confess, there's a country at home with many masks but no one even breathes their true name outside their front door. Obviously there's a whole endeavour dedicated to discovering such a thing along with all the other things." And she has learned those steps so well in the past year, all the ways to dress and how to listen, how to read the little things people say without saying. It's not a world she can say she likes and yet she does, when she manages to get one over on some noble who thinks they're better than her just because of their status.

But then there were always politics and games in the brothel, always politics and games aboard ships and on the docks. The stakes are just higher when she works for Leandra.

"I can't imagine being pompous about religion, I mean it belongs to everyone, doesn't it? Our lecterns come from the figureheads of old ships, the dice in my pocket came from the tooth of a whale - I don't understand why it can't belong to everyone, it's just ridiculous." She takes a swallow of her drink, annoyed at not really understanding the why and feeling like a child for asking it in the first place. "If it offers comfort, it offers shelter for all. Ridiculous, to make it levels."

"Honestly, I agree with you. It should belong to everyone, it should comfort and provide for all. And yet, the gap between what should be and what is, is so very wide. As the Chantry became more powerful, it seemed to care more about imposing its will than serving the world. There are still people who believe in the latter, though, and I'd like to think that the bulk of those faithful are in the Inquisition. The Chantry declared us heretics, after all." Korrin rolls her eyes at that. "Which is a stupid thing to do, since Divine Justinia created the mandate authorizing the Inquisition in the first place."

But, whatever. People in power are always the same, even the faithful. If it doesn't fit their comfortable view, if it can't be tamed or molded, they want nothing to do with it, if they don't destroy it entirely. The Chantry's ruderless now, though, so the latter isn't happening.

"Huh, and here I didn't think anything could top the Orlesians for needless complexity. Masks and masking one's name? What the hell's the point of that? I thought nobility names were things to be flaunted; you know, Marquise Pompous of Val Royeaux or something like that. All they like to talk about is their exalted lineages."

"Your religious authority, disavows a thing that your main religious leader actually sanctioned? Are they all drunk?" No really, are they actually do drunk their brains are just as pickled as their livers because she could understand if it was some splintered group but this is just utterly ridiculous and it makes her glad to be able to switch the subject to a tale of her own world.

"It's this whole - I suppose you'd say spiritual? - thing, it's to do with souls, they like the butterfly as their symbol too. I don't think I ever got the truth of it but there was this old legend, very very old and there was a monster of some sort. It would prowl the fields of wheat, slip between all the tall flowers and it would hunt you down if it ever caught your face or your name. You would never be safe from this fiend. The story goes that there were two young women and sometimes they're true twins who came into the world one after the other, sometimes they're sisters, sometimes they're friends but they wore masks and used the same name and the monster couldn't attack them both because he didn't know the right one. So ever since it's been all masks and false names. It all gets tied together much more neatly when a native tells you it, unfortunately she's not here to explain it better. Zimevur, now they really value their names and bloodlines but Zimevur is the clenched fist, Ebeos the knife in your kidneys." Nerissa would roll her eyes at Araceli's clumsy handling of such a tale if she didn't object to the level of honesty about it in the first place but there are no names, just a story that will make as much sense to a stranger as it does to Araceli herself. At least her increasingly tipsy brain understands it better than her sober mind does.

Korrin just snorts and takes another sip, shrugging at Araceli's question about the clergy. For all she knows, the Grand Clerics have been utterly hammered since the Conclave's bloody end. That would certainly explain some things.

At any rate, she settles in to listen, quietly taking a longer sip to savor it along with the tale. The telling doesn't seem clumsy to her, but then she's more interested in the content than how it's dressed up. "It sounds like Orlais would have plenty in common with both places. As much as I find the idea of cultural exchange interesting, it's probably just as well that Orlesians don't take ideas from either. It's already headache enough dealing with their nobles, as it is. The regular folk aren't too bad, though they're incredibly snobby about wine."

"Oh the wine," with an exaggerated old man's voice she raises her drink as if to examine it before she splutters, snorts, and starts laughing. "I care about what wine goes with my dinner and that it's rude to get drunk on the good stuff. Getting drunk on the vinegar piss is fine, that's the only reason you have it. We're at least snobby about the correct blends to use in your rum and brandy or how to brew a good ale to fill your belly as well as getting you drunk."

Or if you put gunpowder in a drink; it adds flavour but too much and you have a nasty mouth in the morning.

"Do your people have any particular drinks? Or others beyond the Orlesians and wine and my own folk with the good ones? Are there any people who only drink those spirits that you'd use to strip the paint and varnish off a ship?"

"Well, Qunari have a drink called Maraas-Lok and it's...strong. In my opinion, Qunari drinks aren't things to be savored, but tests in endurance. Dares, basically. And Dwarven brews? Are just plain gross. Don't have any, if you value your taste buds. But there is a drink called Aqua Magus; fine spirits infused with a bit of refined lyrium. It's dangerous to have in any great quantity, but it's a very unique flavor and I'd definitely have it again."

Given her sigh at the bartender, they don't have any in stock for the time being. Oh, well. "You should befriend our resident magister if you want to try any Tevinter brews. She has a stock with her and they're very good, not the vinegar piss you mentioned."

"Oh I've known things like that, terrible awful things and it's like licking...I don't know, the worst thing you could lick a hundredfold and given I like my palate as it is, I'll take that advice." Although what little food here is so bland she might do better to lose her ability to tell just how very bland it is. What she wouldn't give for some hot peppers, for cloves and saffron, for salt farmed in just the right way that it turns the delicate pink of the inside of shells, perfect for rubbing in fish and roasting until it spits and crackles.

"Did she bring them with her?" Yes she's remembering that climb and how carefully bottles need to be packed even on ships so they'll last the voyage. "Oh it must have cost at least an arm and a leg to get fancy wines to a crag like this!"

"It must have, but I did't ask the cost. As a guest, it would have been rude. But yes, she seemed to have enough to last her for the time being. Who knows, with some time and influence, we might end up with some high-end drinks here. For now, though, it's mostly the cheap stuff."

Korrin shrugs, not minding as long as there's something to make her pleasantly mellow. She can afford to be more discerning when there's opportunity for it, which in her mind is at least possible. The comfortable Vashoth takes another sip, sighing contentedly.

“I used to know all the captains of the ships and they always knew just how much their cargo was worth, down to the tiniest thing because a captain has to know when it’s worth their while to defend what might be stolen from them. It was habit to just ask one of them and be told so I knew if I stood a chance of bartering for it or if I should just steal it instead. Wine merchants are some of the richest folk you’ll ever know, their clients just a bit richer still.”

Not that she knows if she’ll make a habit of theft in Skyhold outside of the usual reasons for keeping her skills sharp. She might get bored (or she probably will or she’ll say she’s bored when she’s thinking of home) and see if anyone can catch her at it but as blunt as she is about it, she’d rather at least ask first and sneak a taste later.

“Cheap brandy and cheap rum, it’s a crime.” But that doesn’t stop her from refilling the glasses and raising them in a toast, half a smirk on her face as she does.

Korrin raises her own glass in response, a small tired smile on her lips. "If I get the chance, I'll treat you to something better. Count on it. I bet you'd love some of the Antivan and Rivaini vintages, they're better in my opinion than anything even Orlais has to offer. Which isn't to say that their stuff isn't work trying, but don't let Orlesians fool you into thinking they have the only liquor work drinking in Thedas."

She pauses to take a sip, savoring this one. "I don't think anyone here is truly that rich, though I admit I could be mistaken. Most of us barely escaped with the clothes on our backs and that's it. So I'd be careful about mentioning anything in the way of theft around here. You're too pretty to languish in a cell, not that I'd give you away."

“It’ll be terrible if I don’t, I’m sure plenty of folk are going to mistake me for one of the two because you can’t tell the whole world and there’s not always a chance to say otherwise. But if they’re like my home then I’m sure I’ll enjoy them, some things must be alike.” Still, there seems to be an awful lot of odd feeling towards Orlesians and it makes her more and more curious about them, about what they’re really like and how they’ll behave when she’s actually confronted with one. The masks do sound intriguing, she’s never actually been to Ebeos before to see such a place in full swing and balls don’t count because those masks are just for show and nothing more.

“I agree, rich people are very bad at hiding it. They can’t help themselves, even their idea of ‘simple’ is so outlandish it makes me laugh. Simple is whatever bread you can get, not some artisan thing with little seeds shot through it and glazed in just the right way, all shaped like a shell or a sand dollar cast.” This all comes from her fellow guards too, whenever they’ve had to rough it with her for an assignment that makes her realise how far they are from one another, all girls who grew up wanting for nothing but their expectations so wildly different it’s as if they came from other worlds not merely countries. The last comment makes her smile in delight, leaning forward across the table. “Such keen eyes you have but then often we merely reflect another, don’t we? It’s why you can call me pretty but I can call you striking, statuesque, stunning.”

That provokes a deep chuckle from Korrin and a lingering grin. "Such flattery, but you won't have me complaining. The horns and height don't scare you off, then? It does with others, but then they're the assholes who don't bother to learn I'm anything but a 'qunari' anyway. At least you're willing to listen and learn...and I enjoy returning the favor."

“Why would it scare me?” No really, why? But then she’s never once been accused of being shallow, she cares far more about the person underneath - pretty things are pretty but you can’t survive on that alone. “Almost everyone I know is taller than me if they’re of age and your horns are quite beautiful. I feel sure that if ladies where I come from had them, they would be adorned with strands of pearls and delicate shells to draw even more attention to them. I like you, that’s what matters, the inside, that the outside shines just as bright is a welcome bonus.”

That grin softens as Korrin can't help but savor that kind of response. She harbors no self-hatred, not anymore, long having gone from awkwardness to pride and not apologizing for it. Still, hearing all that from Araceli warms her heart, as easy acceptance from others isn't something that happens so often that she'd ever tire of it.

"Horn decorations would get ruined whenever I fight, you know, but I could be open to a gorgeous woman adorning me thus while in Skyhold. As long as she remains close to admire her work."

Acceptance comes easily when anyone is kind and polite to her; the sea accepts all and daughter of a whore and a captain? How else is she meant to take people but as they come, with open arms if they present her with the same and her eyes flash, lips curling up into a pleased smile she only partially hides when she takes a drink.

"Ah but if you were a lady where I come from you could have someone to fight for you - private companies, a cadre of elite guards such as our queen has." That...that's close. Closer than she would like because it scrapes so close to the bone, knocking against her ribs and into her heart but she can push that hurt aside for a day when she has less to think about. "Oh madam, I think I could absolutely manage that - I lived around artists, whores, sailors and pirates, I'm well-versed in showing my appreciation to the utmost." Her voice is near enough a purr by the end, leaning close enough that no one can listen in though she won't be at all ashamed if they do.

"Having someone fight for me? Where's the fun in that? I need action, or I get bored. And no one wants me bored, trust me." Then again, there's a different sort of action that can prevent that fate, and her grin indicates as much. She certainly doesn't mind Araceli leaning in, doing so a little as well to see how she'll respond. "Well-versed, hm? Words are cheap, though. Actions are where it matters."

"Oh there's plenty of action - you know gambling might as well be the national sport, such high stakes although I don't like the fancy places as much, I like it when the people next to me have clothes so filthy they could stand and walk away on their own." Actually did you know that with enough salt water on clothes you can stand them all up and terrify your friends? It's a fun trick but there are much better things you can do and Korrin's mind is absolutely on the same track as Araceli. "As free-spirited as I am, I would have to charge in a tavern even though I don't follow my mother's profession. Alas, I am lacking anywhere more private but believe me, growing up in a brothel you learn every single trick and I've tumbled a lot of ladies, and a few men if they don't irritate me first, and I leave with five star reviews."

A shame she doesn't have any to show off right now.

"I only gamble with my life, never my money." Korrin flashes a grin, never really caring much for that sort of gambling though that isn't to say she won't participate in a game of Wicked Grace. She just finds other collateral to work with. Araceli's comments just make her laugh, not dampening her spirits in the slightest. "Show-off. Privacy is always a problem here, isn't it? I can't say I can do much better, since I share my space with others. That just means creativity has to be involved."

"Ah sometimes you need to spend money to make money or you need a little information you won't get otherwise. Life is risk." She likes risk, it makes her feel alive, bright and shiny as a newly-minted coin and the thought of it has her smiling just as brightly at Korrin. "Well I am more than happy to provide solo demonstrations of my talents if they're required. Well if I can sneak into the houses of nobility and sneak back out after a very long night of little sleep without arousing suspicion, I'm sure I could do the same here."

Thieves know how to be very very quiet after all.

'Quiet' is something Korrin's never even tried to master, though, the mage not knowing the slightest thing about stealth or discretion. That could make matters interesting, if not terribly convenient. "'Required' isn't the word I'd use, as though I'm demanding anything, but...welcome, definitely. And suspicion isn't anything I care about, it's guarding against interruption that's the issue. What can I say, I don't care for an audience."

"My people are big on being able to show your skill, it's why duels are so often carried out in public with lots of prancing and parading and strutting, plus I grew up in a brothel, a few of my definitions of how things go are a bit skewed by such an upbringing." Another reason why she doesn't mind an audience plus the fact that there's usually more than one person in her bed of late. "I'm better at unlocking but if that's what you care for then I can make sure to lock the doors very tight and make a racket so they know they should sleep on the doorstep or perhaps in that hayloft."

We come from the land of the ice and snow

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