sixthiterationlogs | the sun in my disgrace [OPEN + MINGLE]

WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHERE: 6I village, Inn
WHEN: 21 August - mid morning
OPEN TO: All + Mingle
WARNINGS: ~~Put on your Eclipse Glasses~~ TBD

Raleigh had been on his way back from his normal morning routine of checking his traps and fishing for a while when he noticed the sun wasn't quite the way it normally looked - he'd caught a glance at the reflection and saw that the sun, normally perfectly round, was looking a little like a lemon that had gotten beaten up at the grocery store. Huh. An eclipse. He hasn't seen one since he was in Ranger training and he hadn't gotten a good look at that one because he hadn't been directly in the path of it (and, obviously, he'd been preoccupied).

This one, though, looks like it's just starting so Raleigh has time to go to the Inn and tell the people there that there's an eclipse starting and they should get something to try and look at it. He's not exactly sure of the science behind it but he remembers being a kid and making something with a box and earlier he'd done pretty well with the water. Maybe they can take pots outside with water and just look at the reflections? Might work. Maybe, too, one of the scientists has a better idea of how to get a look at the thing.

For his part, it's just something that's different from the norm. Raleigh hopes it's not a sign that the sun's going to start moving backward or staying up all month like it had a few months back and that it's just a perfectly normal, natural event. After earthquakes and people getting sick with some kind of crazy illness, it was good to just have something...mundane to focus on.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hawke visibly shudders at the idea of people popping up out of the fountain while the darkspawn horde was running about. "What a wonderful first day that would be," she mutters dryly. Lifting a hand, she stares dramatically into the distance. "I can see it now, someone's chasing a Hurok or maybe an Ogre. Running by the fountain, they spy a head breaking the surface of the water. Leaning in to see who it is, they grab the person round the shoulders and drag them out. 'Can't stay to chat,' they say. 'I've gotta kill that darkspawn. Oh, by the way, don't let them draw your blood and be careful drawing theirs. Bye!'"

For all that the specific types of darkspawn Hawke has mentioned don't mean much to Picard (though 'ogre' does at least offer a general suggestion as to what to expect), the overall image she paints isn't one that Picard would call ideal by any stretch of the imagination. It might possibly be better than a Borg invasion, but that's mostly because the Borg are singularly annoying when it comes to defeating them.

"It would certainly be a memorable arrival, if nothing else."

Not a good one, mind. But one that any new arrivals certainly wouldn't be forgetting in a hurry.

Hawke shudders. "I'll pass." The last thing she wants is to entertain that idea. "I've seen villages burn under the darkspawn. I don't want to see this one go the way of Lothering."

The village where she grew up had been lost early on in the Blight and most of her people hadn't been able to flee. The horde had claimed her brother and Aveline's first husband. Hawke can still remember their faces and broken, mangled bodies, and it's with cold, hard loss in her light silvery-gray eyes that she turns her head to stare out at the growing shadows around them.

"I should take a walk around. We don't want to be blindsided if this happens to be a portent for darkspawn."

Edited 2017-09-19 01:46 (UTC)

"I imagine most people would rather pass."

He knows he would, at the very least. And that's even despite the fact that he barely knows what darkspawn are, much less what it might be like to actually need to deal with them. Still, invasions aren't anything that he'd consider good, regardless of what they happen to be of.

"Is there anything in particular that might suggest it is a portent?"

He can't imagine that Hawke isn't more than capable of checking things out herself, mind. But that doesn't mean that he isn't willing to offer another set of eyes besides, if she should happen to want them.

Hawke glances to the sky at the man's question, considering, remembering. She's no Grey Warden, so she doesn't know any of their secrets, but she knows what she'd seen. She remembers Lothering, how they had almost lost to the horde entirely because they waited too long to flee. How the fields had burned, the ash and soot in the air and on the ground, the disease that spread, the sounds. For a few moments, Blight memories mingle with memories of Kirkwall, burned and blackened. Her brother's body falls from an ogre's hand outside of Gamlen's house.

Hawke blinks, shakes herself, and seems to come back from it all. Her face hardens as she pushes it all behind her, willing herself to pull up anything she can use as humor. Nothing comes, so for once she falls on truth.

"They'll burn the village if they get this far," she says with the weight of experience and trauma. "Fire on the horizon, smoke in the air. Anywhere they've been will be tainted. The disease spreads to anything living. Blight-sickness isn't just for people. It'll get into the animals, the plants, and the very ground. The skies will turn black and stay that way and the ground will rot like you've never seen before."

It's a miserable way to die and Hawke remembers very vividly two people whose deaths she witnessed during that time, one who was crushed by a darkspawn and one who died of the Blight sickness. Or as a direct result of the Blight sickness. Either way, Carver's death still ached in her heart. The only good thing was that at least she couldn't blame herself for Ser Wesley's death. He and Aveline had been on the road for a reason that was not Hawke's fault. For once... she could not blame herself.

For all that it's not his preferred method of coping, he can absolutely understand the idea of using humor to soften the memories. Or rather, he would have if that's what Hawke had defaulted to. As it is, he's simply content to wait until she speaks up again - there's nowhere he needs to be at the moment, and while he's feeling a little tired it's still nothing that he'd consider to be particularly worrying.

And once she does speak, he has to admit that the picture she paints is more than a little worrying.

"Is there any way to stop the sickness from spreading?"

He's asking as much for Beverly's sake as his own. But he figures the least he can do is know as much as possible about what to expect, in case the worst should end up happening. He's hoping it won't, yes. But far better to be prepared for a catastrophe that never comes than vice-versa.

Hawke's gaze takes a far-away tint to it again, as she remembers Ser Wesley's death and the ogre that killed Carver. For a few moments, she wants to say yes, that there is a way, an easy way. Instead, she shakes her head, just enough to rustle her curls.

"Death, usually," she says with no hint of amusement. "If we had a Grey Warden, they could make any infected people Grey Wardens. It would stave off the Blight sickness for a while, but..." She shrugs. The Hero of Ferelden had been trying that route at home, trying to find a way to stop the Calling last anyone heard, but who knows if it's even possible. All anyone really knows is that life as a Grey Warden is a death sentence by darkspawn, no matter the form the end takes.

"We don't have any Grey Wardens here, so if anyone got infected at all, the only answers are a slow and painful death or a quick end. There's nothing we can do to save them."

Hawke's answer isn't a comforting one. Fortunately, it's not something that they have to deal with - and with any luck it never will be - but it certainly paints a very bleak picture of what life must be like for Hawke.

Not that he imagines Blights are a constant, mind. But if the best option isn't even a guarantee that the sickness wouldn't be fatal eventually, he can't imagine that having to deal with darkspawn is anything enjoyable. Enough so that he can honestly say that it sounds easier to deal with the Borg, and that's saying something.

"We'll simply have to hope they never show up, then."

Or that the Observers are feeling nice if they do, but he's not about to rely on them being so inclined if he can at all help it.

the sun in my disgrace [OPEN + MINGLE]

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