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transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

Date & Time: Sept 23rd, 2012.
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings.
Warnings: None.

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "This isn't standard," she's saying, walking perhaps faster than most of the people she's dragging around. "We don't normally have so many Transports at once. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Funny that he should mention witches. She pushes the thought aside to touch the back of his elbow briefly with two fingers.]

You're hardly an old man, Duncan, and you know it. But you're right. I can't linger on things that haven't happened yet and that are possibly unavoidable. It just won't do.

[It's been such a long time since she's deferred to another for advice and understanding, even in such a small, mundane way. It's an odd feeling, one she welcomes. It settles a little bit of the turmoil in her gut, if only for a little while. A small reprieve is better than none.]

I can get some for us when they bring over the pot of water.

[She makes every attempt to keep her smile to herself. He looks so out of place in his armor as he sits down, incapable of the easy lean she can afford in her thinner clothes. Elissa unbuttons her coat and settles it on the back of her chair to dry, taking a moment to push a few stray pieces of her hair behind her ears.

At length, she settles. She is in no way eager to tell him what has transpired, though it's inevitable.]

I'll answer any questions you have to the best of my ability. We'll go at your pace.

[Anything he doesn't wish to discuss can be left for another time.]

[By normal standards, he could agree with her. The life expectancy of Wardens is a different matter. The way his dreams were twisted and haunted by the voice of the Archdemon, he doesn't believe he has that much time before the Corruption advances. The thought gives him pause. With no ability to answer the Calling here, what is he to do? His gaze goes distant and rests on his fingers curled on the table. He snaps himself out of it and shoots her a brief smile.]

That sounds good. It's chilly here. Not as bad as it can get in Ferelden but enough. [No matter how much time he has spent there, he never has fully adapted to the cold. He wonders if it's his Rivaini blood.

He watches her settle across from him. They might as well get to the meat of things. Nothing will be served with delays.]

Let us start with what you mentioned outside. Complications involving Cailan and Alistair. What's happening?

[She chuckles quietly.]

Nothing is quite as cold as Ferelden. But this is just the autumn. We'll see what winter brings for this place.

[She doesn't have the equipment yet for a long or cold winter season. She supposes she'll need to work on that somehow in the coming months with the stipend they receive.

Elissa rests her hands on her knees for a moment, agitation in her limbs as she thinks on how to begin. How much context can she give him to let things make sense? How much will Alistair be comfortable with her speaking about? She takes the plunge anyway, knowing the truth now will be better than discovering it later.]

With King Cailan dead, Ferelden needed a ruler. Loghain took the throne and became regent, claiming Anora still held the title. A Landsmeet was called. I was asked to decide the future ruler.

[Her. She still didn't quite understand why it had to be her and not put to a vote.]

I chose Alistair. He was ready to lead - he told me so himself - and Anora had tried to hand us over to one of Loghain's men. I trusted him to rule well and he has.

[Here, her frown deepens.]

Alistair remembers things differently. He remembers me marrying him to Anora and now they jointly rule back home. Cailan has no idea he's fallen in battle nor that his wife has remarried and he is no longer Ferelden's king.

[He makes a side note of that, autumn. When he's comporting himself for things to come, he'll have to look for heavier clothing. Armor isn't the best at keeping out the chill alone.]

They asked a Grey Warden to decide? Then they allowed you to put another on the throne?

[As cagey as the Fereldans had been about having the order back in their country at all, that's something he's having a very difficult time wrapping his head around. He knew that he and the Warden Commander before him had done a decent job of rebuilding the reputation of the Grey, but this? He doesn't try to hide his consternation.

The rest of it has him bringing a hand up to run down his beard. Maker's breath, complications! A bevvy of them. He lets out a low exhale.]

He can't be kept in the dark forever. It's not fair to him, and it won't serve anything. [He makes a small, frustrated sound.]

If I hadn't seen all of the other people around, I'd believe someone was trying to destabilize Ferelden. A demon from the Fade, or a Tevinter magister. This is all so odd, odd in a way that can hardly be coincidence.

What of the Archdemon and the Blight? [Could this have been the Architect's doing? Sweet Maker, he hopes not.]

The nobility had been at odds with Loghain for some time but were too afraid to act on it. Arl Eamon had supporters...but not enough to hold sway over the meeting. I assisted the nobility and various others, and they were content to have me make a decision by the end of it. I can't say I wanted the responsibility.

[To choose between making her friend a king and letting him continue to be a Warden... It had come down to the fate of Ferelden. She hopes Alistair understands that. He didn't seem angry about it but perhaps his time as king had turned him bitter in her absence.]

I know. But Alistair's position and his status as Anora's husband is up to them to tell him, not I.

[Oh, if only.]

He needs to know he's died and who is responsible. I know he may not believe me...but he needs the truth. It's just a question of when I can see him.

[Elissa sighs quietly.]

The Archdemon is dead. It was killed over two and a half years ago. The worst Ferelden and Thedas is seeing at the moment are uprising between mages and Templars.

[Anders. She keeps her mouth shut about him...for now.]

[As interested as he is to hear all of that and a more in depth explanation, he realizes it's not going to be very helpful for either of them right now. It doesn't surprise him that as a Cousland she had a voice in the Landsmeet. He doesn't know if Fergus survived as well. Either of them would have the right to speak. There was also the matter of Howe, something to ask at a later date.]

I hope they do it soon. [That sort of deception doesn't sit well with him.]

If you'll have my aid, I'll come with you for this. I- I saw him felled with my own eyes. He'll believe me. He might not want to, but he will.

So the Archdemon is dead. Cailan is dead. And so am I?

[He surprises himself in wanting to hear it. If he hears it, he can stop wondering, put aside that lingering doubt, and move forward from there. The fact he's able to move forward after such a thing is nothing he would have ever expected.]

Idiots. [It's a soft mutter. He realizes it's also cryptic.]

They've been pushing mages to desperation for hundreds of years. I'm only surprised it hasn't happened sooner.

[Elissa can understand Anora's position of silence. Telling Cailan he is no longer king will only cause strife between the three of them. She doubts he'd openly take his anger out on Alistair...but then, he just might. As far as she is aware, Alistair has been Anora's husband in name only. It might not be her business, but those sort of circumstances might just be the foundation Cailan could use to reclaim his title and throne.

It matters little here, really. Their titles are practically meaningless to anyone who isn't from Thedas.]

If they don't, then I suppose I'll tell him that too. Better that he know the truth than be in the dark forever.

[Alistair won't tell him. He could barely tell Elissa how different their perspective 'realities' were. How could he ever manage telling his own brother that he's taken his title?

The server appears with two mugs and a bronze teapot, all on a small tray that she carefully sets on the edge of the table. Elissa nods her thanks and rises to get the box of tea leaves from the side table. She grabs two of the wire mesh tea strainers and returns to her seat to prepare his first.]

...I would appreciate you being there if you want to be, Duncan. I can't say I know how he'll react, though I doubt it will be favorably.

[Here, she pauses, setting down the mesh ball to look at him. She can't disguise the pain in her eyes when she speaks.]

Yes. You died as well. Almost everyone from Ostagar did. All of the Wardens besides Alistair and I fell on the battlefield. I'm sorry.

[It's so paltry a thing to say. Apologies will not bring back the dead and will not fix Ferelden. And Anora wonders why Elissa has no sympathy for Loghain. He is responsible for so many deaths and could have been responsible for even more of them had things progressed. The thought alone is enough to make her blood boil and she distracts herself by finishing with the tea infusers, placing one in each of their mugs and then pouring water into both.]

There are...further complications involved in that as well.

[Like the fact that it involved a Grey Warden. One of her Wardens, no less. She rubs at her forehead as she lets the tea steep.]

It was inevitable, I know. [And not just because of Anders and Justice.] I've been told that Kinloch Hold has most likely fallen because of it. Mage circles all over Thedas are either rebelling or being annulled. They have no choice but to fight.

Indeed. Deception at that level will only become a stronger point of contention once revealed if it has been allowed to stand for any length of time. Cailan is no fool. He will wonder why he wasn't told immediately, or at least as soon as he had a chance to get his feet under him in this place. The longer it drags out, the more it will seem like there is something else to hide. This is bad enough without that sort of acrimony to sour it worse, and it won't just be relations among Cailan, Alistair, and Anora at stake.

[He falls quiet and offers the server a pleasant nod, any of the tension in him immediately pushed beneath the surface. Once the woman's back is turned and Elissa is on her way for the tea, his expression falls flatter again. He can think of few ways the current arrangement could be worse or more awkward, and he finds his sympathies divided among all three. Maker knows it's understandable that neither the queen nor Alistair would want to break the news. It's not a good enough excuse not to do it, though.

He nods in full agreement upon her return. It's not going to be favorable. Beyond that he can't predict. Cailan is much like Maric in that respect.

And then he shakes his head and settles his hand atop hers in a brief, warm squeeze.]

I already believed it to be so. Having it confirmed is almost a relief. I don't have to question that anymore. [His voice hardens and he releases his hold.] What Loghain did is for history to judge. My relief that the Blight ended despite his betrayal will last longer than anger.

[A thought occurs to him then, and he tips his head questioningly.] If you and Alistair were the only surviving Wardens, and you put him on the throne, who slew the Archdemon, and what do you mean by further complications on that other matter? Please tell me we don't also have a full contingent of templars here we have to deal with?

I know.

[The thought makes her terribly uncomfortable. Things are strained enough between all of them as it is, enough that tensions between the royal triad will only push the situation to a boiling point. Being trapped as they are, there's no real way to avoid one another either.

Not that it's stopped Anders from finding ways to slip away from her and she from him.

A lump settles into her throat when he takes her hand and despite his assurances, it doesn't go away. In fact, talk of the Archdemon just makes her even more agitated. She focuses on Loghain first.]

His fate was already decided. He proposed a duel. I had Alistair fight him; in his time, I fought Loghain instead. The end result was the same. He's dead.

[That's one thing she doesn't feel too guilty about, despite all of the looks Anora gives her. Hesitantly, she withdraws to rest her back in her chair, fingers skimming the sides of her mug.]

A Warden named Riordan helped us defeat the Archdemon. He died in the battle. I was the one who slew it. As for the other problem...

[She shakes her head.]

It hasn't happened for me yet. I don't think I'll be there. 'Disappeared', as I said. Nate's already told me all he can and, frankly, it sounds like a disaster. As far as I know, the Wardens have been keeping out of it. I don't think they'll be able to remain neutral for much longer.

[That news doesn't bring as much comfort as it should, a bad end to a life of service. Say what people wanted, Loghain had more than proven his worth to Ferelden long before things went sour. He has more suspicions than answers for why or how it all went so wrong, things that aren't his to tell. He nods to show he's still listening, but for that short time his gaze is leagues away.]

I know Riordan very well. [He pauses a beat.] Knew. [Perhaps he should be grateful that neither of them went to their Calling. For all of how thoroughly he embraced his duty through the years, that last journey isn't one he ever looked forward to facing.] He died, but you slew the Archdemon? I don't understand. How is that possible? No Warden has ever survived that task.

[He's still hung up on that to the point that his next question is distracted.] Nate? One of these other Wardens you were telling me about?

[He reaches for the strainer ball to put in his mug and the kettle to pour. He's paying little enough attention to the tea service, much more focused on the conversation. He tips his saucer over the cup to steep the brew. His gaze hardly leaves her at all.]

[She nods tentatively. There's little she can say about Riordan.]

He was a good man. He was the only one of the Orlesian Wardens sent to help us. Loghain kept him captive for some time in the hopes that the other Wardens would keep out of Ferelden.

[Another reason to despise him. They could have gotten help sooner.

Elissa keeps his gaze and holds it, though her hesitance is more than plain to see. In all of the time that she's been the Hero of Ferelden, no one has sought to ask how she managed to live. Only Morrigan knows now that Alistair has come from another time. It's a secret she's thought to take to her grave. If Morrigan betrays her, if this child really will bring about the fall of Thedas, then it's her responsibility to stop it and to pay the eventual price for it.

But does Duncan deserve to know?]

A friend of mine found a way to stop the Warden from dying. It was a long shot, probably wouldn't work. Alistair and I went in expecting it wouldn't. [For all that she trusts Morrigan, it sounded too far-fetched an idea to succeed.] Do you remember the woman I told you about when we were in the Korcari Wilds? The apostate and her mother. It was she who helped us.

[She takes a moment to grab a spoon and stir her tea.]

Yes. He was conscripted in Amaranthine six months after the Blight. He's-- [Oh, that's right.] ...He's Arl Howe's son.

Loghain kept Riordan captive.

[So much for suppressed anger. His eyes flash and his hands curl to fists where they rest on the table. It's only long experience with having to curb his tongue that keeps the rest from following. How foolish and short-sighted the man had to be, how it was nothing short of a miracle that his paranoia and hatred of Orlesians didn't lose the entire country to darkness and the mindless evil of the darkspawn. Riordan was born in Highever, the same as he. His nostrils flare with the strength of his inhale, and he wonders if she can hear his molars grinding.

He has to let that go, because there's more, and it's troubling.]

The Chasind woman who had taken the treaties? Yes, I recall. This woman found a way when the Wardens have been researching it for centuries? Remarkable.

[It's not really the word he wants to use. It makes him uneasy, largely because Elissa seemed so hesitant. Still, he doesn't feel he has the right to all of her secrets. Once he died, she would have been forced to fend for herself and take the aid of such allies as she could find. He would have done no differently in her place. No, he knows that when he was young he would have done much worse without Genevieve's iron fist holding his reins.]

Howe's son?

[For the first time since the conversation has deepened, his brows raise instead of lower, the look clear surprise. The question immediately comes to mind, was that joining a kindness or a cruelty? Had things come a strange full circle?]

[The anger she sees in his eyes mirrors the very look she'd seen on Alistair for an entire year, eyes darkening with rage whenever Loghain's name was merely mentioned. She knows that anger, that hate, very well herself. She reaches out and sets her fingers over his clenched knuckles, the gesture far lighter and more tentative than when he'd extended her the same comfort. It's almost as if she's asking permission at first, but then she settles her hand atop his.]

I am sorry. He was kind to us and he will never be forgotten. No Warden ever will be.

[So long as a Theirin is on the throne, the Wardens will be welcome. With any luck, even when Alistair goes to his calling, things will remain largely unchanged.

At length, she nods. That last word is said like he doesn't really think it's true. His concern is obvious. She loathes the idea of keeping him at arms' length in this but until she's had the chance to speak to Morrigan, she cannot tell him. Not everything. Not yet.

Instead, she focuses on the thought of Nathaniel, even if that, too, brings her some discomfort.]

We knew each other when we were younger. Not well but...enough. He heard that I killed his father and he came to kill me instead. I let him go and he came back to ask to be given a position within the Wardens. He knew what he was facing. He wanted something more from his life and he wished to regain his honor. I consented. We needed recruits.

[She hates admitting that she took him in so willingly. Had she truly care for Nathaniel's well being, she would have denied him entry. But it had been his choice and she couldn't deny him that, not when she recognized how much she had taken from him too.]

[It takes a little time for the tension in his grip to lessen. Riordan deserved better than that, but didn't they all? He nods, covers her hand covering his, and then draws away to finish up with making his tea. He sets the strainer aside on the saucer and pulls his cup in close. The warmth feels good against his palms.]

So you had your vengeance on Howe. [He doesn't seem to disapprove, meeting her gaze over the rim of his cup.

There's an odd hint of relief in his demeanor when he lowers it again. Joinings forged in acrimony and revenge rarely ended well, his own career aside. He wouldn't have wished the eventual guilt and bitterness on her or the Howe boy that could come of that.]

If he came to you in good faith and seemed competent, you had no reason to turn him away. People have joined for less noble reasons than that and still managed well. Things between the two of you now are eased?

[She says nothing during all of it, letting him work through his own anger for the time being. There's nothing to say, nothing that can ease his pain. And there should not be. There was no excuse for what Loghain did, just as there was no excuse for what Howe did to her, and she's barely scratched the surface of his crimes. There is such a thing as excessive detail, however, and she chooses to leave it at that.]

He was working for Loghain. He convinced him that my family was spying for the Orlesians. He locked Anora up. We would have had to deal with him eventually at the Landsmeet, if nothing else.

[But she would be lying if she said it hadn't been satisfying to cut him down after everything. Her face conveys the sentiment enough, meeting his gaze without guilt.

She warms her hands over her mug for the time being.]

Yes, things are well. He's proved an invaluable ally and friend when I've needed someone at my back. He was a powerful fighter before his Joining. He's taken to his new life well, all things considered, and he's regained some of what the Howe's lost thanks to my brother. I think he's content.

[They don't speak much about their own feelings on Warden life. They've never been much for sharing such personal details.]

The other Warden here from my group is named Anders. He's a mage from Kinloch Hold who's escaped the circle...multiple times. [She smiles thinly as she finally sips from her drink.] He's a healer. Very powerful. He runs the clinic here.

More likely he used Loghain's paranoia to further his own ends. That partnership would only have lasted for as long as Howe could benefit.

[He had known the man more by reputation than getting personally close. For all of his lauds gained during the rebellion, he had seemed nothing more than a grubbing opportunist. He had known enough like him on the streets to smell it from a league away.]

Loghain allowed his own daughter to be locked away? He must have worried what she might say about Cailan, or that she could keep enough of his popularity alive that the Banns wouldn't fall easily into line. He underestimated them, or he overestimated his own popularity. One cannot rest on a former reputation forever, not when one is actively ruining it in the present.

[He took a slow sip of his tea and set the cup back down with a soft clack.]

I'm glad to hear that about the younger Howe. Also glad to hear that Fergus lives. I was going to get around to asking you about him soon.

[Rather than seeming alarmed or disapproving of her description of the mage, he seems quietly impressed.] Good for him. [A soft murmur.]

Many of my friends in the Wardens through the years have been mages. They're wasted in the circles more often than not.

It would not surprise me in the slightest.

[Manipulative bastard. How long had he supped with her family, all smiles, while he planned to have them all murdered? He'd been greedy to the very end, believing he deserved more for being the wicked soul he was.]

The Bannorn refused him in so many ways but he was still Anora's father and in charge of their defenses. He led the army. They were frightened of his power, and rightfully so. When we sprang her loose, Ser Cauthrien had no idea she was being held. It's...always possible that Loghain was so far wrapped up in his own plans that he hadn't realized what he'd almost lost.

[That thought pleases her no more than the idea that he'd willingly imprison his own child because she dared to stand against him. How could a father be so distracted as to never notice his daughter was missing?

She nods absently.]

Fergus is fine, last I checked. Teyrn of Highever, as my father before him. We don't get many chances to send letters to one another...but he thinks of me. It's all I can ask for.

[He's never far from her thoughts, just as he had been on her mind during the Blight. Now, however, she doesn't need to be as afraid for him.

She smiles, lifting her mug to her lips.]

I agree. He would wholeheartedly agree with you too. He's been against the circles for as long as I've known him.

[And getting more vehement about their dissolution by the day, it seems. That's the troubling part, coupled with the Fade spirit inside of him.]

There's another Warden here, one I didn't meet before I arrived. Her name is Bethany Hawke, another mage. She's new to the order and I'm afraid she's having a hard time with her new life. [A pause.] And you'll find Anders isn't very enthusiastic about the Wardens either. [Best to get that out in the open before he starts asking the mage questions.]

[He listens quietly to the rest of it. If Loghain would abandon his own son-in-law on the field of battle, the son of his closest friend, it's not a stretch to imagine him writing Anora off as a liability to be dealt with when it was more convenient. He glances down into the surface of his tea as though it might have answers for him. The reflection of his own troubled features reminds him that the here and now is of more concern.

When he lifts his head, his demeanor is clearer.] Your brother was an excellent scout. I'm not surprised to hear he made it through the battle alive. It's good that the two of you are able to correspond at all.

[He takes a sip of his tea, considering what to tell her and what to keep to himself. She can hardly be thought of as his protege any longer. She wasn't under his training for that long and has far exceeded expectations.]

I wasn't pleased with my Joining. I was conscripted. It's something every Warden handles differently, regardless of the circumstances of how they come to the order. In this place, aside from the Taint, it's less of an issue than it would be in Thedas. I'd much rather deal with them as people first. Our bond is hardly reason enough to expect them to trust me. I won't throw it in their faces.

[She spares him her thoughts about Fergus, how she worries about him. He hasn't remarried. It's not that she'd expect him to so much that she knows he's still grieving. Highever is empty. He left a family and came home an orphan. She wishes she'd thought to request for leave from the Wardens for a while so she could see him. When she goes home, she just might.

Elissa faintly smiles, fondness in the corners of her lips and in her eyes.]

And always will be. We're lucky to still have each other.

[At first, she consented to sit back and have some of her tea while he spoke. But she stops mid-sip to listen, eventually setting the cup down. He's absolutely right, of course. She's done much of the same. But perhaps she's pushed too far as well in her hopes of pulling their misshapen group together for some semblance of unity. She nods.]

I don't know Bethany well enough to know her circumstances. She's a sweet girl, though. [And witty to boot.] Anders was all right with being conscripted. It was that or be dragged back to the circle. Things just went...horribly wrong when I left Amaranthine. I still wish I knew all of what happened but he won't tell me.

[That, in itself, is strange. It's as if she's come back to find the front door's been locked on her.]

[He taps a finger at the edge of his cup, the only sign of any internal agitation. He hadn't been thinking of it immediately upon arrival. He had no reason to. He couldn't have known other Wardens would be here, or how many.]

Perhaps he needs time. A time of Blight and the years afterward are always tumultuous. History paints us that picture vividly.

[He's quiet again while he tries to work out what he wishes to say. He lifts his cup for another slow, thoughtful sip.]

Perhaps we should focus less on being Wardens here and more on the fact that we are all far from home. The Joining is rarely a guarantee of trust or unity. Bitter feelings are often engendered. At home, we had the threat of the darkspawn as a unifying reason. It's less black and white here.

There are also current circumstances that will be volatile. We must handle those with care to ensure all of us from Thedas remain as strong as possible. That we remain united in more than simply captivity or helplessness.

[Anders had his time, she wants to say, and look what happened. But she holds her tongue for both Duncan's sake and her own. She isn't in the mood to talk about what he's done or what will happen. There's nothing she can do to stop it.]

I hope he'll come around to at least being more at ease with us, even if he doesn't want anything to do with the Wardens. That's all I ask of him.

[But she knows just as well as he does that being a Warden is nothing you can escape from. It is not a blessing, but a calling.]

Once we work through those things, I think we'll at least be ready to challenge the circumstances of our plight.

We've spoken about the possibility of coming together to potentially build an army here, one that will be able to protect both the Imports and the citizens. [Against the United Earth and the Initiative goes unsaid.] But we need to build the trust and rapport of others outside of Thedas before we will be ready.

Edited 2012-09-30 18:46 (UTC)

If you think it might help, I can speak with him.

[It wouldn't hurt for him to gain a passing familiarity with all of the Wardens stuck there with him, Nate and Bethany included.]

It will be a start. [He nods as he listens, the warmth of the tea slowly having him feeling human again.] Indeed, and we won't be able to do that if they see the lot of us bickering among ourselves. We may not be able to force everyone to get along. I believe we'll be able to manage talking enough sense into them not to have any public scenes. [He hopes.]

I want you to meet them anyway, actually. Whether we band together as Wardens or as Thedosians...it doesn't matter. I want you to meet them. All of them.

[There's pride in her voice, for her recruits, her companions, and for Duncan himself. Why wouldn't she want them to meet the man who saved her life? And why would she want him absent from her circle of friends? She only knew Duncan for a few weeks, certainly, but this is an opportunity for her to know more about him. She wouldn't keep him out of her life even if he's dead in their world.

She smiles slightly, the gesture crooked. She takes a sip of her tea.]

I don't think we'll all get along. That would be impossible. But it should be easier to bring people together once we open our eyes and realize that we're not going to change anything by standing around like sheep and bickering.

We're all we have in this new world, like it or not. We need to make the best of that.

It's looking like there will be plenty of time for it.

[It feels odd to say for someone whose time had so recently run out. It's a moment of clarity, simple gratitude. It doesn't change his perception of the overall situation, but the mere idea that he's a dead man walking and not undead is a huge miracle he's not willing to take for granted.]

So we do, and we shall. We may have to drag a few to the realization kicking and screaming. [A soft snort.] We shall if we must.

[He polishes off his tea and sets the mug aside with a satisfied sigh.]

Thank you for the tea. I'm much warmer than I was before we came here.

[It brings a light smile to her face as she drinks from her cup, now warm but not so scalding. She's glad to see he's slowly coming back around after so much information has been shoved at him. The last thing she could ever want is for him to feel as though he should stand aside and do nothing because he's already dead.]

Of that, I have no doubt.

[She chuckles.]

But that's what we're best at, one way or another.

[She sets her tea down with a nod.]

It's the very least I can do. I know you'll probably have questions over the next few days while you get acclimated, especially once you've spoken to the people here. I'll show you where my room is before you settle in so you'll know where I'll be. No one's difficult to find in the apartments.

transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

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