One | Fate Emptied of Hope

[nobroth]

WHO: Alistair Theirin
WHERE: Fountain Square/Inn
WHEN: Dec 27, Evening
OPEN TO: One at the fountain (Claimed by Zev), OTA at the Inn, per usual.
WARNINGS: None - will edit if any occur.

---

'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams:

"Very funny," came the voice from near the fountain. Dripping wet and cold, Alistair looked challengingly up at the sky, arms held out to either side. "But I don't know how you thought I'd fall for this! This isn't Redcliffe," he called. "And it's definitely not Denerim or Kirkwall or Wycome. It's not any of those tiny towns in Orlais. I've never seen this place before, so it's not my memory, cheater!"

Bending down, he picked up the first thing he saw - oh, a rock, that'll help - and threw it upward, not really noticing where it went. He heard it fall on the ground somewhere, but that was neither here nor there. It was proof he'd thrown it the wrong way, if anything.

"I don't trust you, Nightmare!" More agitated, he started to look for another rock. Another anything. "Or is this some Despair Demon's work? Encroaching on your territory now that you lost the Inquisitor? Well tough luck to you both - I'm not afraid anymore, and there's nothing left for me to Despair over. I might be the Maker's own idiot, but I'm not going to trust this illusion!"

Where had his sword gone. His shield, his armour. Which direction was the damned Nightmare?! He couldn't fight the damned thing if he couldn't see it, and he couldn't see it. Anywhere. Whatever Demon it was fueling this illusion, it was better than any he'd fought through yet, and he didn't want to think about what that meant.

---

In ignorance stumbling:

There was a good fire burning, and that was nice. Really, the place was nicer than roughly every other inn he'd ever seen, including the Hanged Man -- Well, honestly, it far surpassed the Hanged Man, the Pearl, definitely the Spoiled Princess. Places with names he couldn't remember because all he'd been concerned about was finding the bottom of his mug and then having another.

No such luck here, not that he minded. He'd had years to leave that particular vice behind, not that it had been a kind one while he'd had it. But at least now he was warm, dry, and, though confused, knew a few things for certain: There was food, there was shelter, and there was a chance - at least something of a chance - that this wasn't the Fade.

As he stood by the fire, pleasantly toasting himself, he realised he had a lot to think about. And that thought made his head hurt. Nose wrinkled, Alistair rubbed at his temples, muttering a quiet, "Ow."

Comments

In Ignorance Stumbling

[plate_builder]

"If you're in pain, there is a hospital, such as it is, nearby."

Quiet, not quiet enough. Reeve, seated in the second chair by the fire, didn't even turn his attention from the fire, or the paper in his lap. He's got something like a clip-board on his lap, made of two pieces of cardboard, two small pins, and on it a single piece of paper that he was currently creating a very length list of supplies on.

"Granted the medical supplies are a bit... archaic. Not even a decent healing materia in sight. But we make due."

[nobroth]

"What?"

The word's rhetorical; it just takes him a moment to realise he was being spoken to, and then he was shaking his head. "Oh, no, just. Too many things to think about and not enough head to cram them in."

And wasn't that the truth. He still wasn't convinced everything wouldn't evaporate away to green and a huge spider, but for now...

For now, the fire was warm.

"Do they call potions materia where you're from?"

[plate_builder]

"No, we call potions potions," Reeve smirked, shaking his head. "Materia is a round crystal, fits in the hand, that magic is channeled through. Each one is keyed to different types of magic, and it's not relevant here. I don't have it available to me. And don't worry, you look like you can wrap your mind around things here. If not that, your arms."

Reeve chuckled to himself as he added some notes beside 'nails' to stipulated what sizes. Then he looked up at the blonde and tilted his head.

"I'm from a world called Gaia. You?"

[nobroth]

While the man described materia (that just sounded strange and like something that would end badly for mages), Alistair watched him, thoughtfully. He talked like a mage. Or at least like a noble. Someone educated a little more than he was.

"Thedas," he answered, though. "But that's the continent. Not the whole..." He motioned in a vaguely round shape. "...The whole thing. We don't have a word for the whole thing that I know of."

[plate_builder]

A mage and a noble, not entirely wrong on either count. Not entirely right either. Just a talented user of the magic of his world, a magic with a unique magic in her genes, and a hick raised up to a leader, so there you go.

"The word you are looking for to refer to the 'whole thing' is 'world' or 'planet.' World implies societal structures of humanity as well as the physical structure. 'Planet' would be the physical structure itself, with or without the life on it. Granted, Gaia is sometimes just referred to as 'The Planet' but that's just the way people are where I'm from. And if you don't already have a word for the planet you're on, just call it Thedas."

Let him assist Alistair in the information he's looking for. That's who Reeve is.

Cross the Veil

[ombranera]

It was a fair enough winter's day (as fair as Zevran found any winter anything, winter was dour and cold and unwelcoming at best) as Zevran made his way to the inn from his latest round of breaking into an unused home and entering to spend the night. Now and then he slept in the same place as others but it felt safest to do so alone. Hauling his collected items wasn't terribly difficult. Cumbersome, yes, but not difficult. Though the cold had him muttering as much as ever about the chill, about the lack of action or familiarity or anything resembling proper Antivan-

Wine. Company. Clothing. Food. The list was long and continuously updated step by step, and for this reason he didn't notice at first the voice that joined his. Up until the familiar refrain of 'cheater' He had heard that often enough when playing cards around the campfire, there was only one man that made petulance sound so delightfully charming. Zevran's head swung about, seeking the source and grinning at the familiar shade of copper just on the other side of the fountain.

"Alist-" Something went up, something came down, knocking Zevran in the eye with force enough to set him off balance- with all the baggage he was carrying? He tumbled backward to the ground with a great, hissed call of "Brasca!"

This, this was repayment for attempted kindness. He would swear never again but Alistair sounded truly distressed. Enough for him to wave to catch his attention. "Alistair. My friend. Perhaps stop hurling rocks about and help me stand?"

[nobroth]

"...Hell, Zevran, it got you, too?"

Out of everyone he'd expected to see, Zevran was nowhere on the list which was why, halfway there, he stopped in his tracks with eyes narrowed and said, "Waaaaaaiiit... The Demon conjured you up, didn't it. Giving me a friend to worry about."

Similar tactics to Kinloch. Familiar faces. People you might just care about. All to lull you into complacency.

"You're not really here."

But then, after looking around - up, to each side, even behind him, his brows began to draw together and his frown became more concerned. Why wasn't Zevran poofing into a demon and attacking him for seeing through the ruse?

".......Unless you are."

[ombranera]

"Demon? What demon. It is a bit early in the day to be crying demon, is it not?" Zevran hisses, one palm pressed to his eye that he could already feel starting to throb. What a marvelous way to star his morning, accused of being an illusion and in pain. "Tell me this, Alistair-"

He pulled his hand from his face, wincing at the blood from a small cut by his brow. "Do illusions bleed? I do not remember them bleeding when I gutted them the last time we were in the fade."

It was not half so literal as what Alistair seeme to be suggesting, but.

[nobroth]

The blood had his eyes go wide, and then he was there at Zevran's side, pulling up the hem of his shirt to dab at Zev's eye with care. "Damn, Zev, I'm sorry. I didn't know anybody was over here. I thought it was Nightmare."

The shirt was wet, and while it didn't exactly soak up the blood, at least it washed it away. "I don't think it'll need a stitch, at least. It'll just be annoying until it scabs over. Andraste's left tit, I am so sorry."

[ombranera]

"A what?" Again, he remembered things going differently in the fade, named demons were not a thing but- perhaps things had changed? Why Alistair was so convinced that this was the fade-


Well it wasn't so strange a thought to have. He thought much the same but he had been here long enough to prove to himself this place was true. "Would you- Alistair I am fine. I have had worse-"

The Inn

[clouded_heart]

Foggy can often be found in the evenings by the fire. Sometimes he's just reading, sometimes he's working on the cane for Matt.

Tonight, he's sharpening a couple of the knives from the butcher's shop, slowly and methodically and avoiding going to bed because he wasn't getting any decent sleep at this stage anyway. He gives Alistair a small, genuine smile as he comes in. "If you haven't been told, there's food on the stove in the kitchen."

[nobroth]

When he was spoken to, Alistair looked up - and when he saw the person speaking, one thing came to mind: That man had a good face. Trustworthy. Sincere. The smile was one that settled him a little even if he wondered if he should really count on any of this.

But seeing him, he gave a small smile in return. "You know the strange thing? For the first time in -- Maker, years now? I actually don't think I'm hungry. So if this is Demon work, they forgot that bit." He lifted a hand in a wave. "I'm Alistair."

[clouded_heart]

Demons. More demons. Why did people keep talking about demons?

"Franklin, but everyone calls me Foggy." He offers out his hand to shake after setting down the knife he was working on. "Are you from Hell as well?"

[nobroth]

He blinked but easily shook the offered hand. "No, I'm from Ferelden, but most people think it's some form of hell. Rain and wet dog smell everywhere. Do people often come here from hell?"

[clouded_heart]

"I have no idea where Ferelden is. I'm guessing a different world, like Thedas is."

Yes, exactly that, Foggy.

"I don't know about often? There's a guy here who has been there for a while and talks about demons. And when you said demon..." He extrapolated.

in ignorance stumbling

[assemble_the_lovbacken]

"Are you okay?" Thor's disembodied voice asks as he approaches the stranger by the fireplace. He'd been told once about not invading people's "personal bubbles," but he's had so much on his mind that he doesn't really take this into consideration as he gets very close to the stranger and puts a supportive hand on his shoulder. Face full of fret and concern, he ducks down to look at the stranger's face to see if he can figure out what's wrong. "Is it the fire? You shouldn't stare into it for too long. I did that once, and I saw weird spots and flashes of light for hours, even where there were none."

[nobroth]

It wasn't often he met someone who was his same height. Everyone seemed to be shorter -- well, for elves and dwarves, it was a given, but other humans all seemed shorter, too. Which made it both odd and interesting to look up and --

"Andraste's arse, you got close in a hurry," he blurted. "No, it's just-- I mean, the fire thing, that's always horrible, because the flames always look so interesting, but no, it's--"

Wait, how did they get on that subject?

Didn't matter.

"Just thinking about too much and it made my head hurt."

[assemble_the_lovbacken]

"Personal bubble!" Thor exclaims, suddenly remembering the advice given to him. He lets go of the man's shoulder and takes a step back, offering up a slightly sheepish and apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I stepped into your personal bubble. I've been told people don't like that. I will remember to stay this far away in the future. Or further, if you'd rather me be further, though then it will be difficult to talk to you if I'm too far away." He points to a far side of the Inn. "Like if you wanted me to stand over there, it'd be hard to have a conversation with you. Though I think if you wanted me to stand over there, you'd probably just want me to leave you alone."

Thor, focus, please.

"Thinking does that." He nods knowingly, sympathetically. "Whenever my head hurts, I like to look at things that make me happy, like .. snakes. Puppies. Hammers. Lightning bolts. Sometimes that makes the pain in my head go away. Or, at least, it makes me think less about whatever's made my head hurt in the first place."

[nobroth]

Personal bubble? He didn't have a shield active at the moment - there were no healers or spirit mages around to do such a thing anyway. The more that was said, though, the more he understood until he was nodding and-- "Oh, no, it's all right, just... surprising. And this place is confusing.

"And honestly, I'm not used to people being as tall as I am," he tacked on. "I could do with some not-thinking right now, really, but I'm not sure how to stop. I'm halfway convinced this place is a construct of Demons, but I met a friend here and... it's just very confusing."

[assemble_the_lovbacken]

"This place is confusing. Very confusing." Thor's still adjusting, mortal limitations and all. As if suddenly noticing for the first time, he looks at the top of the stranger's head and then takes his hand to the top of his own. He hovers it out and across the space between them to see if they line up, and they do. He lets out an amused laugh. "You're right! I'm not used to people being as tall as I am, either." He sort of liked being The Tall Guy around the village, able to reach things off of high shelves and get things out of trees, but he's trying to be friendly and welcoming to this new villager.

"I like to punch things sometimes when I want to not think, too. Or break things that won't hurt anyone or won't cause much damage to everything else. We can go to the Forge, if you want, and melt some things or there's also --" He stops himself. "Demons? Hmm. I don't think we have any of those around. I thought we might have Dark Elves, but I was told there aren't any of them here, either. Though we do have elves, I guess. City Elves or Forest Elves, if I remember right." He pauses, considering the man. "I know you want to stop thinking, but if you've got questions, I can try to answer them for you. Or we can just go break things."

[ad_dicendum]

Gaius lives at the Inn and, as such, he is something of a regular in the evenings. He was usually to be found either making conversation with the other patrons or engrossed in one of the many books he borrows from the schoolhouse to practice his English skills. (With his tutors both gone a long time, reading was a good way to learn things beyond the conversational basics.) Tonight, he was doing just that, reading about carpentry to learn more about how to repair any further damage that might befall the storehouse with Clint Barton the builder gone.

But he also watched the people around him, because there may not be any such thing as politics here, but he was still political, in his own way. Knowing people, knowing who they were and what drove them, was just as important to understanding the community here as it had been to securing voting blocs of the populus Romanus. So he noticed the new man by the fire, and he noticed the pained look on the newcomer's face.

"Is your head troubling you?" he asked, his voice heavily accented. Not that he could offer much in assistance, but if it was, there were capable physicians here.

[nobroth]

Tevinter.

His first thought, seeing the cast of his skin, the colour of his hair - even the accent - was Tevinter, and that matched part of his theory.

And so, though the man seemed friendly enough, he found himself wary all the same. No reason to let on, though, and he said, almost flippantly, "Just thinking too hard. I've been warned against it before, you know - Morrigan always liked to tell me that if I think too hard, eventually I'd burn out what brains I have. Which, according to her, isn't much."

It was always easier to ramble, to give a little more, to distract from reality while he tried to figure out if this was a particular push of the Fade or if someone was just... unfortunate enough to look and sound Tevinter when, last he'd heard and seen, a Tevene Magister was trying to rip open the Fade and let Nightmare through.

[ad_dicendum]

Gaius had grown accustomed to the variety of accents he heard in this place, without being able to necessarily name where they came from. He'd heard accents vaguely like this man's before, so he didn't need to adjust to it, which WAs a good thing, because the man spoke quickly, his vowels very different from Latin.

"There are many things to think about here, maybe Morrigan would think hard here too." Gaius said. "You are newly arrived? It is a confusing place."

He was well aware that the man seemed wary for some reason, and that he didn't know what it was. But he was a politician, once, before he'd come here, and he'd been good at connecting with people, so he didn't let that dissuade him.

"My name is Gaius Sempronius Gracchus. I stay here at the Inn."

[nobroth]

"What part of Tevinter are you from?" he asked idly. "And how about your family? Altus? Laetan?" And while his pronunciation of those words might not have been perfect, it was... close. Ish. Tevene taken through the Fereldan meatgrinder of accents. To most, he'd sound English of some stripe or other. To him, he just sounded... Redcliffe.

"My name is Alistair, by the way."

And he really needed to stop being so blunt. He did, he knew he did, but damn it, he was tired, and... And he needed to take Zevran up on that offer to sleep for a week.

After he ate, though. Ate and thought.

[ad_dicendum]

"It is good to meet you, Alistair."

Gaius was used to people not expecting him to be from Rome, so far in the past according to their understanding. He had also grown used to the strange feeling when someone here had not heard of his home, although it was the brightest light of civilization in his time. But he wasn't used to people asking about where he was from as though they knew, but with terms he didn't recognize. The closest he'd experienced to date was being asked about Italy, and that had been simple to work out.

Tevinter, however, was not. Nor was the rest of the question: high? Happy? Gaius let the confusion show, his brow furrowing as he repeated the words silently, as he'd had to do many times while he learned to speak English.

"I do not know where Tevinter is," he said, careful to pronounce the strange name as closely as he could to Alistair's pronunciation. "I am from the city of Rome. Do you know of it?"