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

"Well. They are of the race if not of the religion. It is all very nuanced and tricky- I try to stay out of the way when it comes to that." Too many levels and shades of truths and half truths and absolutes. It's too much like a round of politics for him to truly step into and he has nowhere near enough knowledge to speak on it with any manner of accuracy. "They are large, they are hardy, and they do not mind taking a tumble if given cause."

Mmm. Tumbling Qunari.

"Ah I always loved learning things like that when new ships came in," she explains, how could she not when everyone came to Castileos from every single walk of life? She's enjoyed it even more since she's been in Leandra's service after she learned a few more tricks to get the very most out of all of it. "Besides, I'm trying to make a good impression, the least I could do was find out the correct term for my rescuer and listen to the rest." Like the mages. No she doesn't want to think about that, it makes her imagine what that life of silence and shackles must be like, hwo muffled the world must be as if being behind thick glass, pounding with no one to hear or understand a single thing. "I suspect some of us must be careful with the tumbling, there's rough and there's bursting your spleen."

She might have met Gorse. He might be the absolute biggest person she has ever seen in her life though there is Korrin and she has incredible legs. What else was she to look at when she followed her up the mountain?

"That is what watch words are for. Or in our instance a watch signal- he was somewhat hard of hearing but highly appreciative all the same." Mmm. Taas. He is well enough for another tumble, perhaps, but later. For now he has the company of a lovely woman, brandy enough, and stories to hear. Or tell. It could be one of the best evenings he's had since he's arrived if only for the familiarity she offers- and the mystery in every word.

"The best option would be to make certain you land on top when you take that tumble. Or at the very least have a comfortable mattress or hay bale at the ready, as mattresses are few and far between in the hold."

"And I'm very glad the same concept exists here too." Somehow it's still a little bit of a toe-curling memory because no matter how close a mother and daughter are, there's an age where the thought of your mother doing anything more than mothering is embarrassing because you know enough to have mental imagines. Then she grew up more and realised that very few others were ever likely to know half as many tricks for free.

"If mattresses are few and far between then good sturdy beds with proper frames and posts must be worth their weight in gold." Oh how mournful she sounds, even managing to pout because fine, so long as it's clean and unlikely to collapse and hurt someone, pretty much any surface will do unless it's sand because you only make that mistake once. She's even mastered hammocks without flipping out of one but the thought of going without a good bed is honestly quite the crushing blow.

"Give it time. Mattresses and rooms for them will arrive as we gain more coin and influence." Sooner if he leans on a few associates but that remained to be seen. once he had word from Varric? He'd ride out and see it done. Until they they had to make do.

"Until that changes we've bedrolls and hay-bales. Hurrah."

“I can make do with those, so long as nothing gets somewhere it shouldn’t. Sand is bad enough.”

And yet everyone still feels the need to find out for certain so some parties have to deal with it more than once, the price you pay when you have friends who don’t come from countries with miles of white and gold sands and water so blue you can’t believe it’s real. It’s a hard life, truly. So she rests her head a little more on his shoulder because when did she last sleep alone? When has she ever, really, since she grew up and made her own life for herself where she did as she pleased so she’d be happy, always laughing and content.

“I suppose it can’t be any worse than the logistics in hammocks, there’s usually only one bed on a ship and it belongs to the captain. And blankets tend to be a hazard in those too.”

It’s not a good look to get caught in the blanket and cut off the circulation to your hands because neither of you can figure out where it’s managed to snag and tangle.

"Do not remind me. 'Let us make love on the beach' they say, 'It will be terribly romantic' they say. Well they were right about one thing: it is terrible. Sand everywhere, salt water in your eyes, and then? A wave crests over you both and you're covered in seaweed with a crab tangled in your hair. Never again." On a ship, in a hammock, against the wall, in the mud? Certainly. But the sand, the waves? Maker, no. He is content to not. Once had been enough.

He wraps his arm about her waist companionably, sharing the closeness and warmth he would often find in Isabella or- well- any other willing and cozy lady of the Hold, but this is more familiar for the sun baked into the both of them. The ache for something neither of them has in this place. "The fabric hammocks are not so terrible, it is the netted ones that entangle your ankles and trip you up as you attempt to flee."

"It loses the charm when a jellyfish is washed in. Some things aren't meant to swell in quite that manner." And she'd laughed. She'd laughed so hard she'd almost been sick even as she called for help and the poor boy still can't look at her all these years later without turning as purple as his poor stung claspers.

He has hair like gold this close, blessed with luck and fortune according to anyone from Zimevur and she almost tells him that but it feels like a thing that needs to wait until it's needed. "See, that's where I was lucky. I was never the one escaping the hammock, I got to enjoy the show, but perhaps you speak from experience?"

"From both sides of the equation, in fact! I have been the one watching the runner and the one running. One was terribly amusing and one I'd rather not go through again. Nearly broke my ankle trying to get out." An awkward landing can make all the difference. At least he landed easily and ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the nearest dock.

We come from the land of the ice and snow

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i just really wanted to use this icon tbh

s'awright

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