fadewalk

The day had dragged on, colder and bleaker and emptier, and every instinct Daylen had told him to find Alistair again. Stubbornness kept him from doing so.

It wasn't until after he'd awoken from a nap with a strangled shout in an armchair in the library window that he'd returned to the room they'd spent the night.

He opened the door too hard, sweat wet on his forehead, panting from having run halfway there. He stepped in, noticed the tub was emptied, things were tidied, the bed was made, all of those things but the man himself? Not.

Idiot. Daylen knuckled his forehead, closing his eyes and listening to the pull, the tug inside him. He was nearby at least and he could follow it if he could settle himself down enough. Which was hard with the images of the demons toying with Alistair flashing behind his eyelids.

Neria considered herself a well-versed person regarding magic and other things that interested her in personal level, so she was very impressed with the rare books she found in the underground library, place where everything had started for her. She had used some quick, simple spells to clean a bit of the dust covering the entire place and brought along a teapot with fresh made tea to help her through her studies. Things were calm again in Skyhold and meeting Alistair after a long time separated had refreshed her energy and mind, providing the perfect occasion to deepen some parts of her research about the Cure.

She was sitting with her back turned to the door, several books and parchments in front of her, quill on her right hand making notes while the index finger of the left hand travelled from line to line, word to word, aiding her eyes to highlight important things. The woman was barefeet, boots dropped on the floor, feet caressing Jäger's belly, the powerful and mighty mabari lying under the table, snoring like there was no tomorrow.

Current Mood: nerdy

Daylen hadn't slept well in years. Demons had tried to play their games, and when they weren't toying with him, nightmares of all the ways he'd failed Alistair all those years ago plagued him.

Figures it would take a botched grab for his own death, spurred by what he'd now been told was a false Calling, and a bizarre side-trip into the Fade to bring him a little peace.

Peace that had everything to do with the warm bulk of this impossible man beside him. Behind him? He wasn't sure as he came awake by bits and pieces. He was sprawled on his stomach, rolled there from his side in the... night? Did it count as night? He thought it might actually be darker now than it had been when they'd climbed into the bed.

And now that he was awake he could think about all the things he'd done yesterday since falling out of the Deep Roads and to this strange place that he shouldn't have.

Probably including climbing into bed with this Alistair, this strange mirror of his own Voice who he'd been aching to follow into death for years and now... He sighed raggedly, burying his face in the pillow under his head and tried to grapple with the sudden twist of loathing he felt for himself.

Well, first things first, then. The place looked mostly empty, but Sigrun might as well poke around and see what she could find. She headed up the stairs and inside the slightly open great doors.

At the sight of the sheer size of the castle's great hall, she had to stop and whistle.

"If this is another one of those wacky Warden dreams," she said to herself, "it sure seems real." She rapped experimentally on the closest stone wall, and made a face as she nearly bruised her knuckles. "And that looks like the Inquisition heraldry, I thiink," she inspected the banners. "Sure close to what was on that letter the Commander got." Her voice bounced back at her from the wide empty hall, and she grimaced. "And now I'm talking to myself in a ghost castle that may or may not be a certain mountain stronghold thousands of miles away that I've never seen. Greeeaat. Maybe Nate's not the crazy one."

Moving further into the hall, she chose a door at random, the first one on her right, and made her way into a large rotunda. She stopped to admire the frescoes there and glance over the books on the table in the middle of the room.

"Fade shit, Fade shit, elves..." she muttered in a much quieter tone than before as she skimmed the titles. "Well that's not ominous at all."

Taking another path at random, she climbed the stairs upwards and found herself in what appeared to be a library.

Neria strode to the courtyard, mesmerized by what her eyes could see; a black and white vessel, elegant on its form and bright as dream she had never dreamt before. Jäger, the old mabari hound, barked and took the lead, sniffing around before glancing at Neria again, excited.

"Yea boy, sure it is a pretty ship."

She stood there, not sure on how to proceed or how to make contact to announce her arrival.

Current Mood: curious

Cullen straightened, then slowly rose to his feet. He was in the main yard of Skyhold all right, but there were telling differences even beyond the troubling sky. The greenery hadn't all been stripped away, for one. The Herald's blood red banners were nowhere to be seen. The tavern still stood, and the high parapets were bare of their bristling defenses.

If he could ignore the tempest going on above his head, it almost seemed...peaceful. Like it was before things started going so wrong.

He turned in a slow circle, chains clanking, and silently noted the changes--then went perfectly still when he heard a footfall.

'It is been so long since we last saw everyone, isn't it?'

She glanced to the old Mabari hound sleeping by her side in the bedroll, snoring in a low, calm pace. His ears twitched at her question and he simply snorted, back to his sleep.

'Okay, I get, you want to rest. I won't talk anymore.'

A sigh escaped her mouth while turning on the bedroll, back to back with Jäger. The cold night was slightly more bearable with her faithful and loyal friend around, but her resolve towards her mission was starting to crumble. Too many leads, too many dead ends, too many years away from Vigil's Keep and her duties. Lying down like that, only the starry sky above her head, brought back memories of her days during the Blight. The fighting was harsh, relentless and cruel and she barely had her hope to keep going, but she wasn't alone. Neria had her companions... friends to fight by her side and to support her in the darkest moments. If there was something to be missed about those distant days, her friends were it, certainly.

She closed her eyes and slowly slipped to a dreamless sleep.

Neria woke up, cold, trying to understand when the ground had become so rocky under her bedroll. The oasis and the campfire were replaced by a small, dusty room, books covering the stone walls. Jäger woke up next, just as confused as his master.

'What in the name of...'

She stood up, searching the unfamiliar place for clues.
Things were really confusing now.

Varric had parked himself in his usual spot in the great hall waiting to see if the kid would show up. No luck there, but he was scrambling a little at the thought of coming face-to-face with the Hero of Ferelden.

It was funny, he mused as he propped Bianca against the wall and waited, eyes scanning the hall restlessly. He could be the best of friends with a Champion--and fucking hero until the end; he would force the world to sing songs about Hawke even if he had to write the bloody sagas himself--and close with an Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, but he was still nervous meeting someone like Surana.

Funny. Definitely funny.

Kind of pathetic, too, if he let it tie his tongue any. Not that he was planning on that.

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Entries tagged with warden

RP: Alistair (fereldans_king) (NSFW content down the thread)

RP: Daylen

RP: Alistair (fereldens_king) (NSFW content down the way)

RP: Surana

RP: John Shepard

RP: Open to anyone

Private Character Introduction: Neria Surana

RP: Surana

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November 2015

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