sixthiterationlogs | one | Dorian and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

WHO: Dorian Pavus
WHERE: Fountain Park
WHEN: 29th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None as of yet. Will update.

Fountain
Dreaming of drowning wasn't uncommon, especially when one was facing an ever-increasing threat with nothing less than the fate of the world hanging in the balance. One could almost say it was expected, even, given the vast pressure all of the Inquisition was under, but it wasn't merely a dream, was it? Even when they'd physically walked the Fade, it was less real than-

Fasta vass! The water burned his eyes as he kicked toward the surface, or at least what he hoped was the surface, as it was far lighter there than behind. He gasped in a relieved breath as he broke free of the water, hands instinctively finding the edge of the fountain and pulling himself free. Having grown up in a port city had its uses, it seemed. The meager clothing he was in clung to his drenched form as he simply took a seat on the edge of the fountain and pulled the weight from his shoulders...a pack it would seem. Then a breeze blew through the square and a deep shiver rippled through his body. The water didn't stay long in his oiled hair, but it ran freezing troughs down his back, forcing him to his feet, the squelch of his water-logged feet in some of the most atrocious boots he'd ever seen pulling a groan from the Tevinter mage. He turned his attention to the pack he'd removed, one thoroughly unfamiliar and certainly not something he'd choose, trying to shake a strange almost hollow feeling that was flooding his limbs. He felt hollow, listless.

Perhaps this was all a terrible nightmare, he'd awaken in his freezing room in Skyhold to the realization his fire had burned too low. That would explain the chill, but that didn't quite feel right. For one, he'd never dreamed this vividly, and even in his nightmares...this was all far too...mundane. Don't mind the dripping man in violet scrubs with the fancy mustache and the moistened but clearly quite stylish hair. He's just going to systematically remove all the items in his pack on a nearby bench until he finds-

"Maker's Breath, a coat!" He wastes no time sliding into that, at least. It wasn't much, but it did something. One step at a time. Marginally warmer, but no closer to answers, he begins to repack that bag he's been provided, though his olive eyes look around regularly, alert to anyone approaching. Something still doesn't feel right, after all, and that hollow, missing feeling was beginning to breed unease.

Inn (South Village) | A bit later
Very few answers to his multitude of questions having made sense, Dorian would like nothing more than to find this library others have mentioned and ready every bit of literature it provided until some clue connected to some other one and so on in the same fashion until the who affair made sense. That adventure, however, would be for another day. His mind was still reeling from the foreignness of it all, and the numb shock of learning his magic was held at bay from him still left his nerves raw. He felt powerless (as he was), exposed, vulnerable and weak. It was unacceptable that whoever or whatever had pulled him here had such a hold over his wellbeing.

Following some sort of routine seemed best as he found a vacant room in the inn, changed into a dry pair of those strange pieces of clothing, violet in color, he'd been provided in the waterproof sack, and made his way down to the common room to dry the rest beside the fire. The slight shake of his hands as he worked, the tenseness in his shoulders, could almost be mistaken as a fault of the chill in the air if it weren't for the way he looked about, jumped at shadows or unexpected sounds. Perhaps the weather had a hand in it, but more than that...Dorian was afraid. Even at his most secluded, hiding for weeks in the Hinterlands hoping for some opportunity to subvert the efforts of his former mentor who'd seemed to have fallen off the proverbial wagon, he'd had his magic with him.

He was dealing with powers beyond his understanding. That was unacceptable, and he didn't have a way to protect himself from them if it were necessary. It was possible the library would provide more answers, and he'd have them, but tonight, he was just hoping to find enough peace of mind to relax a bit, and he'd welcome a friendly face to ward away the gloom, or at least a bit of the fear.

No. Not fear. It's the cold, by the Maker. Just the cold.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He waves a hand at her somewhat apologetic claim, nodding. "Of course, and I wouldn't expect you to." But the very knowledge others had come for, assumedly, sometime now, and that their knowledge was pooled somewhere? That was promising. He assumed this pool to be something physical, an archive he could devour or some such. That, of course, would be one of his questions, after all.

"Why don't we start off with something basic? Where might one find a warmer place than all this?"

"The inn. This way." She lightly padded her palm against her thigh and Arado rose from his seated position and walked along at Wanda's side.

She lead him a very short distance towards the large inn-like building next to the fountain. Inside was instantly warmer, a fire roaring in the hearth on the far side of the room. "If you sit there I can grab you something warm to drink or something to eat. Resources are slim but for the moment we have plenty." It was time to start thinking about winter.

Arado wined softly and Wanda took the bird from his mouth before letting the dog go curl up in front of the fire.

A seat by the fire was a splendid idea, and the hearth here was larger even than that of the Herald's Rest back at Skyhold. What he wanted, though, was to change into something drier and then seek out his answers, but his curiosity wouldn't let him stray from her directed seating.

Or maybe that was his desire for warmth. It was difficult to say. He nodded his thanks at her offer of food and drink and waited for her to return, cupping his hands around the mug she'd brought him but not taking a drink just yet.

"Thank you," he nodded once he was more comfortable. "Now then...where is 'here', precisely?"

"We don't know. It's an island in the middle of somewhere. What we do know is that it's like a different world from your own. A fair amount of people here seem to be from Earth but there are many who aren't." She nodded towards a bulletin board that was hanging on the wall of the inn.

"You'll find past accounts there as well as people offering their skills. A lot of what we do here is support each other while we're searching for a way home." With powers dampened to nothing it was difficult. "There is lunch served at the inn every day, for anyone in the village."

She'll try to get through the general important bits first.

He was carefully filing away all the information she provided for later analysis and made his way over to the bulletin board as she commented on it, moving his keen eyes over advertisements, testimonials, things that needed to be archived properly. Perhaps he had something he could offer, after all. With his magic nullified, he'd be at a loss, it was true, but on top of being a mage, Dorian was also one of the most intelligent people he knew, if he did say so himself (which he did. Often).

Something about that last statement caught him off-guard, though, and he turned away from the post board to regard Wanda once again.

"Where does this lunch come from?"

"There are a few people who hunt and work to keep the kitchen stocked with food. Including making sure that we have enough food stores for the winter. Mark works on the gardening and I think they're all listed on that board with what they do. I help preserve the game that comes in and a few people cook and clean during the lunch hour."

It was a very large group effort. "You're welcome to help out too, if you'd like." She pointed to one of the lists on the board. "These are the people who usually fish and hunt. They have their skills listed."

"If you aren't sure you know how to do something, check out the school. A small library of 'how too' books recently appeared there."

Her tone struck the altus as odd. If there were no natives, it served to reason people would need to hunt, fish, grow food and the like. Things didn't simply appear, after all. "How are you preserving the game? Are you salt-curing or smoking it?" His understanding of the processes was academic, of course, but he knew of their function.

"Are there truly so few here who know how to survive in the wilderness that a library was required?" And more importantly, who put it there. Libraries didn't just appear. "And does it not concern you that this library 'appeared' recently? Shouldn't it?"

"It depends on what we have available. I usually end up smoking it but I use salt when we have it." The methods Wanda used changed a lot and sometimes it depended on the time of year. Fish was rarely preserved and usually eaten that day while large pieces of deer were salted or cured with the heat flower to create something like spicy jerky.

Wanda exhaled and lifted her shoulders in a tired shrug. "Yes and no. A lot of odd things happen here. If you notice, the inn has power but no where else does. Some of the houses do but where power shows up doesn't make sense. Whatever is going on, our captors have full control of this area and for some reason they gave us these guides. Probably because things are going to get worse but I don't know."

All they can do it guess.

Adding variables with no internal explanation...it sounded more and more like experimentation to Dorian, a scholar familiar with the concept of adding subtle changes to study output. It was...well disconcerting put too fine a point on it, but which building had this power may make sense if they simply looking into what they could be used for perhaps...or he might have been letting his mind run away from him while he tried to accept where they all were.

"I'll need to think on this more in depth, perhaps once I've had a look at this library." The sorts of guides they found there may shed some like on what their captors hoped to accomplish, after all.

She inclined her head in a short but decisive nod. "It's best to take time to look around." It was knowing where to find information that was the most helpful. "If you have any questions you can use the device on your wrist to communicate with the people here or speak to them privately. It also works as a distress beacon."

Not that people were careless enough to get themselves into trouble but it was always good to have a back up.

He looked down at his wrist instinctively at the device's mention, raising an eyebrow. "Well, it's a useful little thing, isn't it?" A distress beacon? Considering his penchant for finding trouble, and his lack of ability to properly defend himself at the moment, that seemed a splendid thing to have along.

He looked back up, though, and nodded to her. "You have my thanks, Wanda."

Wanda nodded her head and then waved a hand to Arado to return to her side. The dog stood at attention and was following tight to Wanda's side.

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you."

"Indeed." He stands as well, inclining his head in thanks once again. He may be arrogant and self-serving at times, but he could also be gracious.

"Thank you once again for your assistance, and your information."

one | Dorian and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

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