therookery | (no subject)

FORM: Sending crystal.
SENDER: Twisted Fate.
RECIPIENT: Everyone!
WHAT: The party returns, and Fate has a request.
WHEN: Backdated to Cloudreach 29.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: N/A

Ah, Skyhold. Terribly good to be back home. I'm certain you all missed me, didn't you?

In any case.

Clan Frandruil has notified me that they wish to send halla our way. Terribly considerate of Keeper Shoshanna to show such gratitude. I don't particularly care what the Inquisition wishes to do with them, so I defer to those part of Clan Ashara. They are yours, as far as I am concerned.

In any case, something of more immediate concern and interest to me: I've received a mark from the rift we dealt with. As terribly excited as I am to be blessed with this, I'd like to do a little more research on this. [And maybe remove it, but he has a feeling that's impossible.] Those of you already familiar with your own magical glowing green marks, please, enlighten me with whatever you know.

And before I forget: Sera, I've placed your things back in the room in the tavern. If you happen to find anything of mine left in there, it's yours to do with.

I think that ought to do it. I'll be in the tavern, drinking myself silly.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The gardens are fine enough for me. I'm not particularly concerned, and it's conveniently nearby.

Very well, please come and find me at your convenience.

[Galadriel is...perhaps...more accustomed to speaking with people that she cannot see than most elves of Arda, but she infinitely prefers conversing in person. There is some measure of relief in her voice as she concludes their talk and, indeed, it carries over into her posture as she sits, working, in the garden.

When Fate finds her, she is sitting on one of the stone benches, shaded in the colonnade, worsting long, grey woolen threads by hand. It is hard to say how much she has done or has yet to do because the thread in hand, while continuous, is being wrapped onto a large winder and the yarn she is refining is being drawn from an open bag at her feet.

She has, one assumes, been at it for a very long while.

Her Templar guard, stationed on either side of her bench, are paying only minimal attention to her. They are performing their duty, make so mistake, but one can only watch a woman wind thread with hawk-like intensity for so many hours before it becomes an exercise in tedium.]

[For him as well; body language and facial expressions are all part of interpreting communication so that, really, speaking to her face to face is much preferred.

It's not the first time he's ever seen or spoken to her, but it's impossible to mistake her for anyone else. For all of the lovely women and men he's met in the world, there is something impossibly distinct about Galadriel. Everyone knows it, and it is either marveled, feared, or perhaps a bit of both.

Whether or not the Templar notices, Twisted Fate gives them a dramatic bow before he's addressing Galadriel.]

Madame, a pleasure to have your time. [He removes his hat and nods to her.] You've been well, despite everything?

[Her polite facade cracks slightly as an amused smile creeps onto her face. She makes no mention of his antics, nor do her guard, but she approves of them.]

I am improved. [It is a diplomatic answer, to be sure.] But you have questions?

[She settles the woolen thread into her lap and, with a casual, seemingly idle wave to her guard, a fine wash of her power settles over them. It is not the glaring concealment she'd used whilst speaking with Katniss, but it is sufficient to blur their words and spare her guard the ability to recall them.]

You needn't concern yourself with our company. Speak freely and I will aid you as I can.

[The gesture she takes is a clear use of magic. Of what kind, he isn't certain, but he does look immensely curious for a moment. For now, he won't inquire, and instead trust she knows what she's doing.

He sits near and holds up his hand where the rift had marked him.]

I know the basics of this. A shard of something, capable of opening and closing rifts into the Fade. Beyond that, I suppose my question is the likeliness of having it removed, and if not how else I can learn of its potential.

[If he's stuck with it, might as well seek benefit.]

[Galadriel listens and, once he's finished clarifying, offers him a slightly rueful look. Her own mark glitters in her palm, still.]

I fear this is a wound not easily healed. I have yet to find a method to remove my own and I would not begin to guess how it might be taken from another.

[For all the apology in her expression, there is a bit of hope. She cannot assist him in removing the shard, but she can help him learn its potential.]

As to what they can accomplish? I too am curious to discover the extent of their usefulness.

[She regards the templars, briefly, but they seem undisturbed or, perhaps, unaware of the words she's speaking.]

I had not intended to test my theories, but it is becoming apparently that there are few better suited to such things.

As nearly as I can determine, the mark on our palms is but the eye of a needle; it is less threaded through you than you are threaded through it, as I am threaded through my own. The shard is the point and can be guided, driven, and recalled through the veil.

Closing rifts is akin to drawing the shard through and pulling the thread tight, to mending the veil as one would mend a torn tapestry; it is easiest to accomplish if you recall that you are...reaching for the other side to fold it in. You are not closing it, not as one would close a door, but suturing like one might close a wound.

It is the veil that mends itself, in the end...we merely...assist.

Sadly, each shard-bearer is not a completed thread. [She settles her hands on the work in her lap. On the one side, refined thread coils strong and lovely, on the other it is loose yarn that must be twisted together tightly, then twisted again before it is through.] We are each of us single strands, incomplete and wanting for more power to assist us.

We must be drawn through and pulled taut in unison, else we lack the strength to manage the task, or to hold the veil closed as it mends, and we will fail.

[Removing it did not seem a simple task, after all. If he's to remain with this, then he will know what it can do for him. For now he can use it for the Inquisition.

For a moment, he wonders -- a moment of concern. If Magister Priggs learns of what he has, that can be worrisome. But then, Fate is good at keeping a secret. Hopefully others will remain discreet, and word will not come to his ears.]

I suppose that makes sense, in retrospect. A piece of a unit placed with the other missing pieces will only make it more powerful.

With so many people with the shards in one place, it could accomplish feats no one has seen in centuries.

[And perhaps be destructive, but as is always the possibility of these things.]

What is it you hope to learn with the shards, I wonder? If I might know. [He doesn't expect much of an answer.]

[Galadriel is a touch surprised at the question. It is not unexpected, nor out of line, but he is the first who had thought to ask it.]

I am old. [A simple sentiment that she announces with a short shake of her head.] In my time I have done and seen a great many marvels and, in doing so, have learned much about such things.

I dislike being at the mercy of powers I do not fully understand. Should they prove powerful or dangerous, as these marks have, I cannot abide remaining ignorant about them. It is a risk that I refuse to endure.

All too often such wonders come at a terrible price and, if I can, I would avoid paying it...or allowing it to claim the cost from those who can ill afford it.

[It was one reason. It was neither the most personal, nor the driving force of her desire to understand the veil, or the shards, but it wasn't a lie. Ancient power was rarely shared, even on accident.]

As far as I am aware, none have taken a mark willingly. There is little fairness in this or any other world, and innocents often pay the price of power, but I would change that if I am able.

[It's not something he can imagine, being as old as she is, knowing all that she knows, and to be displaced in another world with a power she does not entirely comprehend -- it must be more than frustrating.

For him, it's old magic, perhaps one that his ancestors could comprehend. It's not much to him right now.]

Well, as I say -- when the world's odds aren't in your favor, make your own luck.

In this case, we have the same goal, then. To understand, and change our odds if we can. I'd gladly like to learn more with you.

(no subject)

no subject

Aaaand Action~

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject