therookery | OTA | Sending Crystal

Entry tags:

OTA | Sending Crystal

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Alan
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: Maybe y'all should keep closer track of your crystals
WHEN: Waves hands vaguely
WHERE: Everywhere
NOTES: Jack away...I'm sure there's a better way to phrase that

Hello, little rock.

You ask so many questions. All day, all night, and in all voices. What's worse than dying? Who are elves? How do you kiss one?

Listen to me: I can ask questions too. What are stars made of? Who put them there? Do you think they must have been very, very tall?

And — Who do you belong to?

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Are you in Skyhold, Alan?

[ Very. Now Pamelia is worried. ]

I was in the sky, [ A somewhat dreamy tone. ] But I'm by the water now. There was a house here, long ago. It sank and the water drank it up. That shouldn't have been a surprise — no one builds houses like this here.

[ He likes Pamelia. She listens well. So she's getting the full scenic tour. ]

[ By the water. So that is either not here or perhaps near the hot springs? It sank and the water drank it up.. He could be in the Fallow Mire.

Eugh. Hopefully not. ]

Is it safe, by the water?

[ She's going to see if there's anyone at the hot springs, anyone new anyway. ]

Not if you're a house.

[ Or the dead woman. ]

I'm safe here. The wild ones avoid me.

Hm.

[ So probably not the hot springs; there's not much wild there, after all. ]

That's good. Can you protect yourself?

Oh, yes. Can you?

Yes.

Are you a mage, Alan?

I am. My name is Pamelia.

Sometimes. [ A beat. ] I knew a Pamala once — but she was Ferelden. Is this your rock, Pamelia?

What are you when you are not a mage?

[ She's made it to the hot springs, but now that she's fairly certain he isn't there, Pam starts making her way back and towards the garden. ]

It's not my rock. It probably belonged to the dead woman. The one that is mine is the one I'm holding.

Does the woman have anything else?

A runner on four legs, or else high above the trees. I hadn't been Alan for a while. I'd forgotten.

[ He's talking more now — and the rhythm of it's shifted: More aware, more engaged. A little more like a person. ]

There was a waterskin, and little bones full of ants. She had an eye in her bag, and another on her chest, but none in her head. A map. Wet tinder. I don't think she remembered how to use the knife.

[ So not Mortalitasi, but a shapeshifter.

Interesting. Useful. ]

Sometimes, when you're not around other people, it is easy to forget what it's like to be to an audience.

Did you keep the map?

Probably not, if they stole her eyes. I wonder what she saw. Probably a scout for the Inquisition.

Yes. It's wrong, but it's pretty.

[ And it's the latter reason, not the former, that's had him making his own additions. But one of those words catches his ear — ]

Inquisition?

[ Pamelia makes a small noise of agreement. ]

I hope you've been improving it.

[ Considering he's in a unique position to do so. ]

It's, ah. The Left and Right Hand of the Divine have started it. There was an Inquisitor, as well, but she died.

But there's no Divine.

[ He's heard that little at least — though everyone's been terribly vague on the circumstance. Some kind of explosion. Like Kirkwall, whatever happened there.

Thankfully, by now he's a little too himself to ask if they'd really cut off her hands for this Inquisition. Metaphors. Right. Alan breathes out, steadying. After a moment, he seems to come to a decision: ]

It's a Chantry initiative? What are they doing? [ Correction, ] What are you all doing?

No, not any longer. Or not now, anyway.

[ She doesn't know, exactly, how that works. One of the few benefits, she supposes, of being Rivaini. ]

The Chantry, as it stands, is not entirely thrilled or on board. The people, however, outnumber the Chantry.

Have you noticed the Fade tears, where the demons come out? People have been coming out as well, people from other worlds now trapped here. The Inquisition wishes to close those tears, called Rifts.

The people are the Chantry,

[ He's almost, just barely brusque with that. But he continues on warmly enough: ]

...Perhaps not those coming from the Fade. There's a way, then? To fix them, the rips? To put it all back?

[ Strong feelings on religion, or at least stronger than hers, are not something Pamelia is prepared to deal with right now. ]

We are trying to find out.

I'm not sure about putting it all back, though, but that's just me.

Why wouldn't you want to fix it?

[ Curious, not judgmental. ]

Mhhm. It isn't that I don't think it should be fixed.

I just worry that placing people back wherever they came from on the other side of the Fade will be impossible.

But I don't know. It's just my thought.

You push a boulder uphill. The rock just rolls back. But you've flattened the path twice — the next time is easier.

[ At the very least, patching the holes in the sky would be nice. ]

Edited (ROCKS EVERYWHERE) 2016-11-16 03:02 (UTC)

But it may just roll back again.

[ She agrees with that. She just...isn't sure that sending everyone back where they came from will be easy. ]

It might. Every time you get smarter, you learn more of how to see it done.

Fortunately, the matter of tears in the Fade are not my direct responsibility.

You’re right. They’re all of ours.

...I suppose you're right.

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alankazam - 2016-11-18 16:10 (UTC) - Expand

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anacardiaceae - 2016-11-18 17:55 (UTC) - Expand

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