009.

[dashing]

FORM: crystal
SENDER: Herian
RECIPIENT: ALL
WHAT: new location unlocked
WHEN: sometime after the proposed rifter phylactery research announcement & Thranduil's post
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Chantry memorial is complete! IC post from a while back, a location information post and visual reference.

Good morrow, Inquisition.

( Herian always sounds even and controlled. It's her own personal cliche, on par with "it was a dark and stormy night." Now, however, it takes on a new dimension, a suggestion of flatness that could be tiredness, or could be... something else. )

I bring good tidings. Though there were those who felt the loss of the Hightown forest keenly, the fire cleared the way for work to begin on the memorial, the progress of which had been stymied for some time. Working with a committee of Kirkwallers, the families of the lost and survivors, and members of the Chantry, the Chantry Relations project and the Inquisition has aided with the design and construction of the memorial gardens. The gardens were designed as a place of reflection and to commemorate all those who lost their lives in the Chantry explosion of the thirty-seventh year of the Dragon Age, and its aftermath. However... as a place of peace for all those who have lost people and who seek succour, all are welcome.

It would be remiss to speak of the memorial gardens without acknowledging, in particular, the work of Siuona and Nahariel of Clan Dahlasanor. For all that feeling was much divided on it, the current growth and fertility of the gardens would have been impossible without the efforts and Sina and those who aided her in raising the forest. It was their shared vision of a peaceful place for the coming together of people in remembrance that allowed Andraste's Grove to come into being, and Narahiel's work that gave us the statue that has become an icon for so many. Though the fire destroyed much, all that survived it - the trees, the flowers, the ground of that grove as well as the statue of Andraste - are sacred. It has become a place of peace, and of pilgrimage. Knowing all the injuries that the Chantry has inflicted in the past, it seems... it seems all the more fitting that a place of healing and reconciliation be the result of Dalish idealism.

( Her own feelings on the Dalish are not warm, or perhaps much better than frosty, but her sentiment is genuine.

There follows a bit of a pause. )

I hope that... even with all the adversity that faces us now, new challenges arising alongside the old, that when it comes to protecting this world and standing against Corypheus, we can do so together. That... that animosity might be saved for those who stand as a threat to us all, and that breaches between us, allies even when it be... through circumstance rather than choice, might be settled peacefully whenever possible.

Easy words to say, I know, and I cannot claim that I have stood by that ideal anywhere near so well as I ought in times past. I wish to do better, on that count. If you should wish to find me, I am most often in the Chantry Relations office. Doubtless there is much to discuss, in light of recent developments and proposals.

Comments

[degenere]

Oh, no. I am collecting the rocks and removing them from the garden. Already I have amassed a small fortune of rocks. Would you care to view it some time, monsieur?

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Well I dunno, are they going to be readily available to the public? Display in Lowtown, maybe? We could use some culture down here.

[degenere]

Oh, no. I would never house such an exhibit in Lowtown. For surely the rocks would walk themselves off and be used in horrible acts of riot and vandalism.

No, no. These rocks must be safely housed, that they might be kept pristine. But you are welcome to come and view them, provided your hands are accounted for at all times.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Well really depends on the size of a rock. Anything bigger than a ball of yarn's going get a bit hard to go chucking through windows easily.

However, I see your point. I'll be happy to visit your rare rock collection, and I'll wear breeches with the pockets sewn shut so I won't be tempted.

[degenere]

Ah, yes. Riot, vandalism, or blockade, then. For the larger stones.

But you might visit in the style of one attending an Orlesian art exhibits, monsieur. That would put me well at ease. Do you know the style of which I speak? I cannot imagine you have been to our fair country, but you might have-- well, not read. Heard, would we be better to say?

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Blockade, probably. Not really sure what I'd be able to block properly but it's really the principle of the thing.

Considering what I've read on Orlais, I think they missed the parts on how to go to an art gallery. Is it mostly - putting your hand on your chin, nodding your head and saying something like, 'I admire the way the artist decided to speak to the beauty of the Maker in all things, as well as the despair of existence itself.'

Except with an Orlesian accent, of course.

[degenere]

Your reading must be excellent! You have it nearly exactly. And I am much cheered by your exercise of restraint, that you did not suffer me to listen to your best Orlesian.

Indeed, it is all that you have said. But the garb is the most important part. It is very specific and highly regulated, to discourage thievery.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Oh I only speak low-form Orlesian. Hardly appropriate for an art gallery of whatever you're mentioning.

Garb does get you in most places. Any designs in particular that I should be looking at? No pockets, skin tight, that sort of thing?

[degenere]

Skin tight, yes. In that it is only the skin.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Naked.

... I could pull it off. And it is really Orlesian.

[degenere]

Yes.

And you are really not. It is very sad.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

So true, so true. Fereldan born, Kirkwall raised. Can't get any further away from a world where I wouldn't be allowed to steal art from a fancy gallery. S'really sad, honestly.

[degenere]

Oh, you might still try. But you would find only failure. It is hardly your fault. If only the parents of your parents had fumbled their way out of the mudpatch and kennel, then your birth might have been established in a place of beauty.

How blessed you are, to have found the Inquisition. A place of succor and opportunity for even the lowliest, poorest, stupidest, I am told. I myself would not know anything of it.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Yeah ... I'm better off waiting for them to all get sloshed on wine, do inappropriate things in corners to people who may or may not welcome their affections, and then steal the frou-frou art. Maybe a ham of despair too. I get peckish.

Well come on! Don't sell yourself short! There's room for the boorish, elitist, and fake people here too! Inquisition is about all sorts, coming together.

[degenere]

Is there really all of that room? Marvelous. I am glad to hear it. I shall write to all of Orlais and invite everyone who might fit those descriptions.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Excellent.

[A beat.]

We needed more meat shields anyways.

[degenere]

Did all the Fereldans pack up and leave? A pity.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Nah they just decided Orlesians were more expendable. Even more than the dogs!

[degenere]

Do Fereldans not love their dogs to nearly obscene degrees? Would it not be said that to a Fereldan, all men would be more expendable than his dog?