TDM #5

[calderaevents]

ARRIVAL

It happens in an instant. A heavy weight in your gut, a trembling of your limbs, the world spins and you barely have time to register that you're falling before you lose consciousness. And when you awaken, it's not where you were last. Dark, unadorned oak walls surround you in a tiny room, the only furniture the bed you are currently resting upon, and the bedside table with a folded piece of parchment resting atop it that simply reads:

“The Tavernkeeper is awaiting your arrival downstairs.”

As you exit you find others like yourself emerging from the surrounding rooms. You are indeed in a tavern, but there is no hustle and bustle one might think to hear in such a place. The only person down on the main floor is a humanoid figure wiping down the bar, who smiles when they see you. They're familiar, but not, and you can't quite place their face. For some reason, however, their presence is comforting and warm.

“Welcome, Visitor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions.”

And you most certainly do.

Due to popular demand, the starter tavern and the drinks provided are available to in game characters via a portal accessible only to those with a faction gem.

DRINK MENU

FLAMEFRUIT SANGRIA a deep red wine based punch with chunks of softly glowing fruit floating in it. A single serving makes you feel relaxed, social, and maybe even a little flirty.

MOLTEN MEAD Though the thick drink itself is room temperature, it bubbles sluggishly, and feels very warm going down. The bold flavor affects your mood. You feel very bold! Like you could do anything!

BESALT BRANDY a hopefully staple drink for the brewery, this liquor is smooth and rich with a peppery bite. Ironically after consuming it, you kinda want to bite someone! Not hard! Just a little nip and nibble!

THAT ASHY ESPRESSO a single potent shot of dark espresso swirled with a gold-tinged cream. Intense and bitter with a hint of caramelized sugar. You are now very awake, hyper, and excited.

PYROCLAST'S WHISKEYa glossy black whiskey that turns a vibrant glowing orange when swirled. You now breathe fire.

EMBERMARK WINE a rich, velvety, spiced wine that immediately makes one feel mellow and calm.

CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY

As the effects of your drink wear off, the Tavernkeeper speaks once more:

”It is time, my friends, for you to find your new homes.”

You are compelled to walk through the only door leading out of the tavern, finding yourself not outside, but in a deep black, seemingly endless room with five portals arranged in a circle. As the last of you leave and the door closes behind you, gone when you look back again and replaced with nothing but that black void, three of the portals illuminate:

The first portal is surrounded by an almost blinding light, prismatic rainbows shining brightly in the dewy air outside of the tavern. A soft breeze may gently caress you, pulling you toward it. The portal seems to lead to a city in the clouds, airships and winged beings of all sorts soaring through the skies. Of the little bits of visible land, much of it boasts giant waterfalls that look like clouds melting into the land below. The portal calls to those who crave independence and freedom; and especially to anyone that wishes to find the strong bond of a family not forged in blood.

The second portal is encircled by a fairy ring of spotted white capped mushrooms, the faint scent of damp stone and rich earth wafting from within the faint green glow. Peering inside, one can see a sprawling harbor city of gray hewn stone, a melting pot of humanoid beings going about their day, and beyond, rolling green farmland and cottages clustered in small villages. This portal is destined for those who crave stability and solid ground beneath their feet. A simple life, an adventurous one, and everything in between can be found within.

The last portal is adorned with shells and seaweed, the glow of blue around it catching on droplets cascading down the circular opening. Beyond it you see a city housed inside a massive bubble deep under the ocean, spiraling towers encrusted with coral, and a variety of different creatures mingling about the streets. Outside of that bubble, merfolk swim, a massive squid engulfs the view from the portal as it smoothly glides through the water, and schools of fish disperse as it passes. A sanctuary in the sea that calls to those with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to aid those in need. Or perhaps it is the mystery that beckons you - the lure of the unknown in the depths that bids you explore it.

---

Upon following the pull of the breeze through the first portal, you are thrust into the beauty of a lively city that goes by the name of Heaven's Bow. Much of this main city feels exactly as you would expect on a city below, but there are clouds surrounding every direction you look. The walls of buildings are made with light-colored limestone, and buildings are generally built up to heights made even more grandiose by their position in the sky.

The Skyfall Docks are the first thing you notice, boasting hundreds of airships sailing in and out across the clouds with shouts that accompany a typical port city. Just outside is a fantastic market with goods not only from the other regions of Caldera, but from what some shopkeepers claim are other worlds--items sold or left behind by Visitors. Almost anything can be found in the markets if one is willing to look hard enough. Transport to other locations throughout the sky and even to the land or sea can be found here.

If the docks are too lively for you, you may instead find yourself roaming the underbelly of Heaven's Bow and finding brothels and gambling parlors filled with the promise of pleasure and fortune. The guild house for the Sylphs can be found here as well, giving out quests and training to prospective adventurers and guards alike--though none of them seem concerned with the illicit activities that surround them. Perhaps the freedom the Sylphs boast of extends to what others may deem an undesirable activity.

But most curious of all, you find a shimmering opal gemstone in your hand. When placed anywhere on the body, it will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If it was the second portal that called to you, you will find yourself in the busy city of Grey Ward, with its cobblestone streets and sturdy grey stone buildings. You are in the heart of the city, the Glass Market, so named for the colorful stained glass windows of the surrounding buildings. The scent of cooking food and the sound of barkers fills the air; watchful guards keep an eye out for pickpockets and thieves, and citizens go about their day. From here, one can investigate the rest of the city: the Sundown Docks, where both sea and sky faring skips transport people and goods. The Soot Spire, home of inventors and engineers. The Hearthstill, the main residential area. The Downs, a smaller residential area for those with less means.

Outside the city walls, one can explore acres of farmlands to the east and west, or follow Terra’s Pass to the less settled areas, but take care. Past the Skyward Range, out in the smaller burrows and villages, the influence of the city guard diminishes quickly, and you’ll have to keep your wits about you. Bandits along the road are always a risk, and the wildlife are less controlled by regimented hunting.

In your hand is a gemstone, a brilliantly green emerald that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If the last portal beckoned you through it, you find yourself within that bubble covered city beneath the sea, the city of Salt Spire. Your ears pop with the change in pressure, and the smell of the salty sea fills your nostrils. All around you buildings made of dark stone encrusted with coral and seagrass tower high above your head, the backdrop outside the dome a deep blue, seemingly endless sea filled with fish and merfolk and all other manner of creature swimming through the water. You stand in the heart of it all, surrounded by people with gils on their necks and scales upon their vibrantly colored skin, all of whom seem intrigued by your arrival. You have many options of where to visit in the city under the sea, but where oh where will you go first?

The Salt Spire Library is right before you, an impossibly large building housing thousands upon thousands of books of all genres. Fiction, non-fiction, romance and mystery and all between. You may even find books from your world and others! Oddly enough though, no Calderan history books are to be found, and if you ask for them, the librarians and locals all choose to ignore your questions.

If scholarly pursuits aren't to your interest currently, perhaps a trip to Bluetide Market would be more your style? The marketplace is host to every manner of shop one might ever need: artisans of all varieties, apothecaries and healers in the Shimmer Quarter, the most in fashion undersea clothing shops, food stalls, and all between can be found in Bluetide. There are also the Tideshore and Fogbottom docks on either end of the city. The former allows transport to the surface via large, magical bubbles for those that cannot hold their breath or make the swim themselves yet. The latter allows people to venture further into the sea. Those without their underwater abilities are offered rebreathers for travel that last for four hours before needing to be replaced.

In your hand is a gemstone, a shining sapphire that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

IGNACIA'S CRADLE/EMBER VEIL

Months ago, a piece of land from Heaven’s Bow fell from the sky and scarred the land below, damaging a part of the city. From that chaos and ruin rose new life, a new ruler, and a new city: Ignacia’s Cradle. Just a short walk from the edge of Grey Ward, the gates of the city are guarded by two massive obsidian golems, and any who did not rise from the lava itself are warned at the entrance that to travel about the city will be most difficult, unless they have obtained a way to mitigate the extreme heat: be that with a charm, an ability, or a potion. The very streets themselves are paved in slabs of volcanic rock, tall spires of buildings constructed and shaped by rapidly cooled lava. The main method of travel are the mine carts, with tracks that wind through the spires ready to take one to almost any location.

Currently, the main feature of Ignacia’s Cradle is the Lava Flats, home of skilled smiths that use the extreme heat of the lava to melt the strongest metals and create unbreakable weapons, glassmakers and jewelers who fashion elaborate headpieces, rings, and amulets. These items are sold at the Ember Market on the outskirts of the Flats.

At the edge of the city lies the Ashfall Terrace, where a small farm using the rich volcanic ash and soil is in its infancy, as well as the Basalt Brewery where clever alchemists are researching ways to use the extreme heat to craft new and unique beverages that they are eager to find folk to test them out on.

---

The hot spring of Ignacia’s Cradle is a breathtaking anomaly located just beyond the Ashfall Terrace, tucked into a secluded crater formed by the celestial impact that gave rise to the city. Here, molten veins from the Lava Flats weave beneath the earth, heating a natural reservoir that bubbled to life amidst the chaos. The spring’s waters shimmer with an ethereal brilliance, hues of deep turquoise blending with molten gold and fiery orange, as though Heaven’s Bow itself left behind a fragment of its essence. Steam rises in curling wisps, carrying the tang of minerals and faint traces of sulfur.

The spring, known to locals as The Ember Veil, is both a sanctuary and a marvel of natural wonder. Its soothing waters are reputed to heal wounds and fortify the spirit, with the temperature kept in perfect balance by an intricate system of naturally formed vents and channels. The edges are lined with intricately carved obsidian benches, where patrons can soak their feet or meditate in the rising steam. Plants resistant to the intense conditions—vivid fire lilies and ash ferns—dot the perimeter, their resilience a symbol of life’s ability to flourish even in the harshest environments.

Sometimes, when two or more individuals share the waters, the spring creates a subtle connection between their minds, allowing memories to surface like ripples on its surface. These shared memories appear as glowing, translucent scenes that hover above the water, visible to all within the spring. Participants can relive moments from their lives, experiencing them through each other’s eyes, fostering profound empathy and understanding.

Another of the spring’s mystical properties occurs when bathers who enter the waters feeling drained, injured, or burdened by grief often find their vitality restored. The waters seem to draw out negative energies and emotions, replacing them with a warm, invigorating sensation that spreads through the body. In rare instances, the spring has been known to accelerate physical healing, mending minor injuries and soothing chronic aches, as though the magic itself is stitching the body back together.

A lesser-known but equally fascinating effect happens on particularly clear nights, when the moonlight reflects on the spring’s surface, some bathers report fleeting glimpses of potential futures. These visions are often cryptic, appearing as brief, dream-like flashes, but they have guided many to life-changing decisions. The alchemists of the Basalt Brewery believe this effect stems from residual cosmic energy, and they have begun experimenting with enhancing it through the addition of rare minerals and lunar elixirs.

RADIANT SUN

The day begins like no other, with the skies painted in hues of golden-pink as the Radiant Sun ascends. Its light spills over the world, warm and soft, caressing the land and filling every heart with a sense of peace. Beneath its glow, emotions of love and connection bloom like never before. Strangers exchange heartfelt smiles, old friends embrace as though no time has passed, and lovers find their feelings deepened, their bonds strengthened.

Even the air feels different—lighter, sweeter, as though the universe itself is celebrating. The songs of birds harmonize with the melodies of impromptu musicians who feel inspired by the sun’s radiance. Those with magical abilities sense their powers of healing and creation magnified, as if the sun itself lends its strength to their intentions. Long-held grudges seem to melt away under the sun’s tender gaze, replaced by tears of reconciliation and words of forgiveness.

The Radiant Sun touches every heart differently:

◾A widow finds peace as memories of her late spouse no longer bring sorrow but gratitude for the love they shared.
◾A timid youth finds the courage to confess their feelings to the person they’ve admired for so long.
◾A gruff warrior lets down their guard, laughing freely with their companions for the first time in years.

For a fleeting moment, the world feels as it should be—unified, harmonious, and drenched in love.

But as the day wanes and the Radiant Sun dips below the horizon, an unease begins to settle...

JEALOUS MOON

The golden light gives way to deep purples and silvers as the Jealous Moon rises, its glow pale and cold. Its light pierces the heart, not to warm it, but to expose the insecurities that lie buried within. Where love had flourished during the day, doubt begins to creep in.

Under the Jealous Moon’s influence, emotions twist and darken:

◾A once-reconciled pair of siblings argue over old grievances, as jealousy over perceived favoritism resurfaces.
◾A couple, who had spent the day lost in each other’s arms, now question each other’s loyalty and intentions.
◾A nobleman, inspired to be generous during the day, grows suspicious of those who received his gifts, fearing they may exploit his kindness.

The air grows heavy with tension, and the magic of the Radiant Sun fades, replaced by the sharp sting of distrust. The moon’s pale light seems to follow people like a judgmental gaze, amplifying every fear, insecurity, and lingering resentment.

Worse still, the night seems endless, as though time itself has bent beneath the weight of the Jealous Moon’s envious glow. For three long days and nights, the moon lingers high in the sky, its pale, piercing light casting a shadow over hearts and minds, amplifying discord and despair. Its power sows strife among even the closest bonds, driving some to dangerous extremes. Yet, when all seems lost, the scholars of the three factions unite their wisdom and uncover a glimmer of hope—a means to dispel the moon’s cruel influence. For those who have not yet succumbed to jealousy’s grip, there remains a chance to reclaim harmony, a chance for redemption before the damage becomes irreversible.

The solution lies not in complex rituals or rare relics but in the simplest and most instinctive actions: physical connection. To weaken the moon’s hold, people must embrace one another—offering a hug, a handshake, or even resting a hand on someone’s shoulder. These gestures of closeness disrupt the isolation and mistrust that the moon thrives upon. Sitting side by side or holding hands creates a barrier against its oppressive light, reminding the afflicted that they are not alone. Even small acts, like sharing warmth through proximity or clasping arms in solidarity, build a shield of connection that the moon cannot penetrate.

As these actions ripple through the night, the Jealous Moon’s light begins to dim, its sharp, cold glow softening until it fades from the sky entirely. The tension in the air lifts, replaced by a quiet calm that feels almost foreign after the chaos of the past three days. Slowly, the world seems to exhale, and the darkness that clung so tightly to the hearts of many begins to loosen its grip. People step back from the brink of despair, their minds clearing as if waking from a long, disorienting dream. Relationships strained by the moon’s influence begin to mend as apologies are exchanged, tears are shed, and bonds are reaffirmed.

ALL IS WELL(?)

With the Radiant Sun rising again, its golden-pink hues spilling across the horizon, life begins to return to normal. The birds resume their morning songs, markets reopen, and the hum of daily activity fills the air once more. Though traces of the moon’s influence linger in whispered memories, there is a collective sense of relief and gratitude among the people—gratitude for the light, for connection, and for a second chance to heal.

In the outskirts of Ignacia's Cradle, Aella and Terra, two of the three leaders of the factions, come together to address the gathered crowds. Together they assure the people that this celestial event was a rare anomaly, something never before recorded in the annals of history. They explain that while the Jealous Moon’s influence was unprecedented and deeply unsettling, it was a unique alignment of cosmic forces that is unlikely to occur again in their lifetimes—or ever.

The leaders thank the people for their resilience and compassion, emphasizing how their acts of unity—simple gestures of closeness and connection—proved stronger than the moon’s envy. They commend the scholars for their quick thinking and the Visitors for their role in guiding others through the chaos. Finally, they urge everyone to move forward, not in fear of what has passed, but with the knowledge that even in the darkest moments, their strength lies in the bonds they share.

QUESTBOARD

Settled in? Good. It's time to make your way to the Questboard located in every city in numerous, easy to access locations. That is, if you want to make any kind of impact on the world or just get some Bones for anything you might wish to purchase. Visitors are given a very small stipend in which to survive every month, but all it does is keep you fed and housed. These quests will assure you greater wealth, and they're the main reason you're here: each finished quest helps the Calderans fix their shattering world.

Quests can be accepted at the questboard via magically signed parchment upon the board. Just sign your name to accept and the paper will be whisked away... somewhere. You're not actually sure. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.

Once quests are completed, earned Bones will be dropped off at the character's residence by Bonita, the mysterious artisan who has supposedly handcrafted every Bone circulating in Caldera. Please do not speak to her, she startles easily.

*February will be the last month to complete quests for this rotation. New ones will go up on March 1st.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Caldera's fifth TDM! All characters awaken in a strange tavern with nothing save the clothes on their backs, all of their powers stripped, and a piece of parchment directing them downstairs to the Tavernkeeper. There is a thread of all questions answered by the Tavernkeeper here, and if you have more, feel free to ask there for what would be offered ICly.

For OOC questions, please direct themhere.

All locations are available to be explored! Ignacia's Cradle and Ember Veil have been added, along with details about the Violet Drop regarding the Cult of Triton.

The TDM is game canon and all completed quests can be carried over once accepted into the game.

Participation in the Radiant Sun/Jealous Moon effects is not mandatory.

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i. waters of memory

[arlathvhen]

Lavellan had been thrilled to learn about the new hot springs, and had been quick to take the opportunity to take a dip. Though, of course, it being public meant that when she showed up and slipped into the water, she was wearing a light, cotton shift and shorts, easy enough to relax in the water, without revealing too much. There's no miniature cheese wheels to place on her eyes, unfortunately, but otherwise she's quite content to nod politely to whoever else is in there, lean back, and let herself relax.

That is, until she hears the voices.

a. becoming the chosen one

The waters form into a rendering of Lavellan, significantly younger, with vivid green lines tattooed boldly upon her face--the vallaslin of Mythal, for any who knew to identify it as such. Walking by her side is another woman, sharp in face and voice, a thick Nevarran accent accenting her words as she speaks to Lavellan.

"The Inquisition requires a leader: The one who has already been leading it."

As the two of them walk up the stairs, Lavellan's gaze pans to a large gathering of people--elves, humans, and dwarves all stare up at her ponderously (though a strapping blond man and a beautiful Antivan woman stand out against the crowd, through the lens of her memory). Lavellan and the woman exchange words, dimmed in the memory, as Lavellan looks back at her, shocked. Then another woman approaches, offering up an ornamental longsword. Lavellan stares at it, then at the crowd. They stir, restless, and the emotion across their face is a desperate, adoring hope. They need that hope.

They need her.

"I was chosen by the Maker, sent by Andraste's hand to restore what Corypheus could never destroy." She takes the sword, and turns towards the crowd. "I will be a servant of the Light, and I will spread that Light across the world. The Inquisition belongs to the faithful, and I will be their leader." The blond man faces the rest of the crowd, and yells out over them, voice confident and triumphant.

"Inquisition, will you follow?" The crowd begins calling out loudly in agreement. "Will you fight?" The cheering begins to get louder, and up above them, Lavellan's eyes begin to widen, clearly taken off guard. "For your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!" He has a sword in his hand now, pointing to Lavellan, as the crowd bursts into a cacophony of adulation, screaming and shouting, hands raised, pointing towards her, or reaching for her. They are hopeful, they are jubilant, they are adoring.

And Lavellan stares down at them for a long moment--then a change. A light in her eyes. A smile slowly growing on her lips, as she comes to the realization of just what is happening here. That this crowd is all calling for her. They are her people. And she begins to realize that she likes it.

Her sword raises, to the cheering of the crowd, and Lavellan looks down at them with an intense, pleased look in her eye. It is the moment that she realizes: She can do this. She can rule over them.

b. a scheme hatched

The water reveals the scene of a dark hallway, and Lavellan is there, walking down it, dressed in beautiful formal wear, a dark green dress embroidered with golden vines, jewelry and makeup elaborately done. Trailing after her are three people, the woman Cassandra, from the last memory, a stout dwarf that others from Thedas might recognize as Varric, and then one person anybody here could recognize: none other than Solas himself, all three of them just as richly and fancily garbed.

"Inquisitor," Cassandra is telling her, as they hurry. "We must stop Florianne from killing the Empress. We have to tell her--"

"We will not." Lavellan interrupts her calmly, waving a hand. "Florianne is going to succeed, and then we are going to sweep in, to make sure everyone knows it was her, and put a stop to her." This declaration is shocking enough that Cassandra wheels to a stop, staring open-mouthed.

"You cannot mean--"

"Celene murdered hundreds of elves. Burned alive in their very homes, because people said she was too soft on us." Lavellan's face remained calm, but her eyes were alive with animosity, voice laced with venom. "She dies, Cassandra."

"Not to say that she doesn't deserve it," The dwarf speaks up, or drawls, really, not seeming surprised by Lavellan's declaration. "But you know Gaspard isn't a friend of the elves either, right? He hunts the Dalish--hunts your people--like you'd go after a deer. If Celene dies, he's going to become Emperor."

"Which is why," Lavellan straightens, and there is a suspiciously smug look growing on her face as she smooths the front of her dress. She is enjoying herself. "it would be very convenient if all that information we found that ties Gaspard to his own schemes against Celene were to be placed in the hands of the elven ambassador. The elven ambassador that would owe us a great favor."

"And Gaspard would have to dance to Briala's whims," Solas finishes off. His eyes are soft as he watches her speak, and when she turns to him, his expression is a mix of pride and adoration. His beautiful, scheming beloved. "Gaspard will rule only at the discretion of an elf. She will protect the elves in the city out of her own interests, and guard the Dalish out of loyalty to you." He takes a step forward, and Lavellan is already leaning towards him. "Well done, Vhenan."

"If you two start getting mushy, I'm leaving." Varric threatens, waving a hand. "Do whatever you think is best, Inquisitor. But we'd better do it fast." Cassandra is the only one that looks hesitant, even as the group starts to move forward again. "Inquisitor, you are playing with fire. I hope you know what you're doing."

"Look at it this way," Lavellan turns to assure her, and the smile on her face looks positively nefarious. "Orlais will not take the Venatori killing their Empress lightly. Celene will become a blessed matyr--for our cause."

---

c. good bye to a good friend

The waters resolve into what appears to be an office, one with a large wooden desk right in the middle, and a map of a continent that anyone from Thedas would recognize as home. Lavellan is standing next to it, the dwarf known as Varric next to her. She's turning away from the map, face pulled into a tight mask of worry as she faces her companion. This time, she looks different from the first two memories--her face is missing the green tattoos of vines, and her arm is missing. So is the prosthetic, the sleeve of her left arm being empty and neatly tied.

"Varric, you're the only one I can trust for this."

"You mean, I'm the only one you trust to not try to kill him on sight." The dwarf drawls, turning to face her with a warm smile. "Maybe the only one you trust to be able to talk some sense into him."

Lavellan laughs hollowly, rubbing her face. She looks tired. Far more tired than she did in the previous memories, or she seems now. "Both in one, I fear. You're annoyingly good at that."

"Let's just hope it works on him." Varric replies, shaking his head with a smile. He lifts up, away from the table, and then pauses right when he's about to step away, turning to face Lavellan with a thoughtful expression.

"Hey, Inquisitor. There's one thing I need you to do before I head off across Thedas, for however long it takes."

"Name it, Varric. If I can do it, consider it done."

"I need you to cry for me."

Lavellan meets the declaration with a startled stare, the silence stretching on for a moment--then another, and on until they gathered into a stretch of time. Varric smiles patiently, waiting until Lavellan could manage a choked "I--I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." He waves around him, then to the map. "I'm not blind, Inquisitor. Your world has been falling around your ears. Your gods aren't your gods, your friends are scattering, and your dear--"

"I get the picture."

"--The point is. Everything that's been going on, and I haven't seen you cry. Not once. You just...zone out, and stare off into the distance. Like you're on another continent, by yourself. It's not healthy. If I'm going to leave you behind, then I have to know that you're going to be okay without me. I have to know that you're going to be able to cry."

"Varric--" And true to her word, her voice is already choked when she mutters his name.

c

[ofravensanddaggers]

Vax had just been meaning to relax in the warm waters, towel over his eyes. His own memories had come and went and he didn't even register when one that wasn't his own floated under the damp cloth and into his mind.

The man is the most clean shaven dwarf Vax has yet to meet but the stature is still telling, and the woman...right. He's talked to Beleth, he's heard from Solas about how elves were treated in their world. What he hadn't been told however was what it was that Beleth had been through before coming here. He has no context for the heavy feeling in his chest as he lets the vision wash over him. No context for the sadness that brings tears to his own eyes.

As the scene ebbs away Vax has to take a moment to steady himself before he sits up, cloth falling from his eyes and he looks towards where he is sure he will see a familiar figure. "Well, good to know it doesn't just show the person in question such scenes."

[arlathvhen]

Beleth looks openly, visibly horrified by the memory that has appeared in the water, strangely plain on a face whose expressions are usually so reserved. There's a hand over her mouth, and she can't hide the redness in her eyes as she moves to pressed the hand to the bridge of her nose, attempting to will the tears back.

It doesn't escape her that she'd just seen Varric telling her to cry. Well--he was gone now. Because of her. Because she'd asked him to go. So maybe she's just a liar, and maybe she sends good men to their death, and maybe she doesn't fucking cry.

"I don't think," She starts, voice heavy, and takes a moment to gather a few more long, slow breaths, "That I would have preferred it. Personally." Bad enough for the memory to live within her head, where it haunts her at every reminder of the man. But for another to see it? To have the sin she committed against her truest friend so openly displayed for others? There are deaths that would have been kinder.

[ofravensanddaggers]

There's a sympathetic look in Vax's golden eyes as he nods, turning so that he's not staring her down any longer.

"Yeah, I can see that." He sits for a moment longer before continuing. "Not to pry or anything and feel free to tell me to fuck off but, he isn't wrong. It's not good to keep things so bottled up. I've seen what grief and regret can do to a person if not faced."

[arlathvhen]

"He's dead." The words are practically spat out, like her tongue found them to rancid and unpleasant to contain for long. She shouldn't be dumping her issues, her mess, on this kind man, who's made her laugh and lifted her spirits. But it's hard to ignore the feelings bubbling up when she just watched Varric hug her one last time.

"Varric. He died. On that mission I sent him on." It would be easy to let her grief slip into anger, to pin the blame on--Or maybe, it would be so, so much harder, and that's why she can't do it. It has to be her fault, or it would be someone else's. "He was my best friend, and I sent him to his death."

Even if she wanted to avoid it (and quite frankly, she would have preferred it to be so), the tears are burning hot in her eyes. She hates it. Hates the weakness, hates imposing on Vax, hates the grief that rises like bile, hot and miserable. But Varric and Vax are right, a soul can only keep things bottled up for so long. And she hates that, too.

[ofravensanddaggers]

"I'm sorry for your loss." Vax starts, arms crossing. He sits and patiently listens to Beleth talk about the man and only speaks up when she blames herself.

"I'm sure he knew the dangers of the mission when you sent him on it, yes?" He tilts his head with a small smile. "It wasn't your fault, you didn't kill him and you didn't send him out with the intent for him to die."

Seeing her eyes turn glassy, Vax slowly reaches out to take her hand. "I have known even men the size of mountains to cry, it's okay. I won't tell anyone if that helps. You can cry here and go back to being the pillar of strength after. You're safe."

[arlathvhen]

"He did. We both knew it was a risk." That much was hard to deny. Both she and Varric knew their quarry would take every opportunity to avoid direct confrontation, and to avoid hurting him, but they also had known that there was a little that he would not be willing to do, when pushed to the wall.

And pushing him to the wall is exactly what they did.

There is a moment's hesitation, years of mental walls that have been built up, a stubborn pride that ran in her blood. The knowledge that even now, she couldn't fully admit that she might never be able to forgive the man who took her best friend from her. Even if he was the love of her life. But it comforts her, more than she can possibly express, to have someone tell her that it's okay--that she's allowed, for right now, to break down.

But then she reaches out, and accepts the hand, right as the gathered tears start streaking down her face. When the tears break their barrier, it's like a dam bursting, because it takes mere moments from Beleth to go from the quiet crying to suddenly holding on to Vax as she breaks into heavy, ugly sobs. For Varric, for herself, for every unfortunate circumstance that conspired to pull her dear friend from her side.

a & b double fistin

[odare]

Finnick is lounging near Beleth in the pool- whether they're chatting or not, he just enjoys her company. Then the memories start, and they're shocking and strange in themselves, just to see a floating, moving image like that- but it's also a surprise to see a younger version of someone who is unmistakably Beleth. He watches with rapt attention as she becomes the leader of an adoring mass of followers... It puts a crease in his brow. The only powerful leader Finnick knew of, until recently, was the worst man in the multiverse. He has the inherent belief that power is corrupting, because of that, so the scene puts a pit of dread in his stomach. The followers have the blind excitement of Capitol citizens at one of Caesar's shows. Something bad is going to happen.

But the next memory is not bad like he expects. He goes from holding his breath to raising his brows, to a slow grin pulling at his lips. He draws parallels to his own world, whether they are accurate or not- Celene as Snow, Gaspard as Coin. Katniss, the one to kill the Empress, and Finnick: suggesting they use secrets to warp things in their favor. It's all very cool, and he wonders if their plan worked out. Solas is in this memory, too, and Finnick hasn't seen the two interact much yet, but he likes what he sees in the memory. A power couple.

As the images disappear, he looks at Beleth, his brows raising again in amusement, looking to see her reaction.

take her to dinner first goodness

[arlathvhen]

The expression on Beleth's face is a mix of wistfulness and embarrassment, suitable for a fond memory that, nevertheless, reveals you acting like a bit of a fool. She glances to the side, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.

"Everything felt easier back then." Because she has to say something, right? It's the first thing that occurs to her, other than a worry that Finnick will think she's either a crazed cult leader or crazed assassin. But his expression doesn't seem to indicate either of the two. "Maybe it was easier. I thought I could do anything. That if I just sat down and put all my little dragonchess pieces in a row, I could change the world."

There is a heavy, tired sigh as she leans back, and kicks at the surface of the water, willing it to disperse with the memories. "None of that matters, anymore. Not back in Thedas, nor here." Her story is is the past, and she'll be just as forgotten as Ameridan, one day. And in Caldera? There's no one here who even knows, save Solas, and the handful of people that politely ignore her.

can do ;)

[odare]

He is wondering about the leadership piece, not thinking her a cult leader necessarily, but curious about the context there, and hoping that power wasn't something that corrupted her. Not that she seems like the kind of person who would abuse power, but... All those adoring people can go to your head, Finnick knows from experience. The part about chess pieces is concerning, too, as it reminds him a little too much of Snow.

"No? What happened? It didn't work out?" His tone is still simply curious.

[arlathvhen]

"Oh, it worked." Without even looking, she waves her hand breezily to the waters that had reflected her memories. "With Celene--She died, I swooped in to heroically avenge her, and Gaspard ruled Orlais at Briala's whim. With everything else that I needed to do. All problems put before me, I overcame. All trials, I accomplished." Her tone isn't one of bravado. It is a simple matter of fact. She was the Inquisitor, and she was good at it. It was what she believed, and what those around her assured her of.

"Things were rough for a period of time--I will not sit here and bore you with the needless dramas of Thedas. There was a mage of unprecedented power, who spread a plague through the land. I did what I could to save people--It was not enough, of course. It never is. There will always be people who die, and I will spend the rest of my life with their names on my heart, wondering if I could do more." This is said calmly as well-it is what it is, something she has already come to terms with. It is the price of being a leader. "But even so, no one questioned my leadership, or that I tried my best. And then I aided in the defeat of this gruesome mage, and--"

Here she turns to Finnick, and there is a light shining in her eyes, not unlike when she was younger, more reckless, and eager for the power. "--I could have done anything. The world was recovering from a crisis on a scale unlike any witnessed before, and I was the lone source of authority, having protected the world, and helped killed the man who had caused the crisis. It would have been like--" She reaches up, and mimicked plucking a fruit from a tree. "--that easy, to reach forth and take it. But--"

And then, suddenly, it's gone. The leader who had accomplished so much, and who could see how much more she could do, and for whom it would be so easy to grab more power. She disappears into the warm water and all that is left is Beleth, reserved and polite and affable. "--I decided to be happy, instead. I left all of that behind, to be with Solas. He was leaving, and I realized that more than anything, more than any of this nonsense," And she waves her hand, like having all the power in the world is a gnat to be brushed aside. "I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be with him. So we left together."

She laughs, glancing off to the side. "One day, he might even forgive himself for letting me do it."

[odare]

Any doubts Finnick may have had about Beleth's character or her deeds in her world are put to bed by this story. She saved people, and yet felt guilty for not being able to save everyone- something Finnick can certainly relate to. She had the opportunity to seize ultimate power, to become a President Snow of her own world, make things work in her favor to all others' detriment, and she chose not to. She chose a much simpler path, and the fact that love appealed to her more than power makes Finnick certain that she is cut from the same cloth as he is. All around.

By the end, he's smiling, leaning his cheek on his fist, propped by his elbow on the poolside.

"You made the right choice," he says quietly, not to reassure her or anything, just because he genuinely thinks so. That's all he says, for a few moments.

"Actually, I approve of all your choices, not that my opinion matters or anything," he jokes. Although, really, she's a notorious leader and he's some fuckboy, so he doesn't expect his opinion actually would matter to her much.

[arlathvhen]

That smile is, in truth a relief. Would have been a relief even if it wasn't such a particularly dazzling smile (though that didn't hurt). Beleth relaxes into the water, the weariness slowly fading. She wasn't being judged for her actions, in the past or present--that was nice. Even if he didn't know the full story...it was still nice.

"Finnick, that means more to me than I think I could really express to you. I worry, sometimes... I don't regret my actions, and I would make my choice over again, every time. But sometimes I wonder if I didn't just run from my responsibilities. I worry that the people who used to depend on me, who believed in me..." She sighs, sinking further into the water, turning to look up at the sky. Would they be mad? Would they forgive her?

Did they think, like she had, for those grueling years, that her responsibilities mattered more than what she wanted?

"I deserve to be happy." She has to remind herself of that. "So thank you, Finnick. I'm glad to have someone who agrees with me, at least."

b.

[dreamflowers]

It was only a matter of time. That's what it feels like when Jade has been plagued by visions of memories not her own. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Certainly wouldn't be the last for one such woman dubbed 'the Prophetess'.

Lavellan seemed alright when they first met. Maybe a bit calculating, given her probing questions and the manner in which she had been sizing up the tavern at the time, but decent. But the woman in the visions sounds different -- younger, commanding. It leaves behind an echo of complicated feelings.

But ultimately, Jade has no room to judge. Should Lavellan catch a glimpse of one of her own memories, Jade might be equally vulnerable to scrutiny.

When it's over, she flinches away from the water, gripping her face and hissing. "Bloody hell."

[arlathvhen]

The memory brings up plenty of complicated feelings for Lavellan herself. She isn't ashamed of her actions, of course--she had carefully thought out what would be the best plan of action, and achieved just that. To someone she knew better, someone she trusted with her plotting, she would be quite proud of it. To someone she barely knew, it felt--vulnerable.

She doesn't like feeling vulnerable.

And speaking of which, she sees a memory in the waters, starts tensing up for what else will be revealed about her--but it's not about her. There is a child who is hurt, and--a pit grows in Lavellan's stomach, cold and heavy, as she realizes that she is not the only one whose vulnerability has been revealed by the warm waters of the spring. The coldness grows in her veins as the implications are made clear, and her thoughts turn to her own mother. The woman that would never win any awards for parental love, who had disagreed with all that Lavellan had made of her life. But never was a hand raised to her. Never did she doubt, at the end of the day, that her mother loved her.

Not everyone could claim the same.

Impulsively, she reaches out, hand slapping down at the water, stirring it up and rendering the image unreadable. She would not sit here and impose herself upon Jade and her memories in such a manner, nor would she make herself watch it.

"...I am sorry." Her voice is quiet, and she turns to let Jade collect herself, if necessary.

[dreamflowers]

Vulnerability was never Jade's comfort zone, either. Usually it was her dealing with other people's problems, or when people did ask about her own strifes, she tried to play them off like it's no big deal.

But how do you play off something like that?

"It's fine," she lies, like a line she's rehearsed a thousand times. "Ancient history."

History that's felt, that reaches and stings even when her eyes are closed. Jade is self-aware enough to know that time is meaningless when it comes to these things that haunt her in sleep, and ghosts when she's awake. It's fine, it happened a long time ago. Certainly I'm over it by now, right?

A single, joyless laugh escapes as she glances down at the water. She saw something, too. But she has no room for criticism when her hands are hardly clean, either.

"I'm sorry, too. Looks like they weren't just full of hot air when talking about how 'mystical' these springs are."

[arlathvhen]

"Time heals wounds, but there's always a scar that's left." Lavellan says, voice quiet. "It's okay to have that scar. You don't have to pretend that it isn't there." She understands that better than most, even if her wounds haven't come from the same source as Jade. "And for the record--You don't need to be ashamed of anything." Either what happened to her, or that it still clearly haunted her.

"But if you want the matter to be closed, I won't force the issue." She spreads her hands, expression soft, and careful. "I told you that if you needed anyone to talk to, I'd be here. That offer is still on the table. But I'll respect whatever decision you choose." Because, obviously, this isn't the kind of thing that could be forced. That wouldn't help Jade, or anyone, really.

"They really are something, aren't they? I think I'll stick to bathing at home from now on."

[dreamflowers]

Part of her would rather take Lavellan up on the out that she was just given and dismiss the matter entirely. Yes, Jade has scars that time has failed to ever heal -- she has plenty of them, more than the ones she wears on her body. It digs into the flesh and into the mind, burrowing deep so that no amount of repression could possibly make her forget the smoldering fire.

At first she's silent, her expression unreadable. Her mask of jokes and smiles has been slipping more these days, and she hates that. Feels like there's only so much this façade can take before it starts to crack and people are able to see what she really is.

A broken murderer.

"Yeah," she finally says. "Springs seem pretty overrated, anyways."

Not that she would know much, since this is her first outing to one. She kicks at the water, causing more ripples to distort their reflections and any more memories that might rise to the surface.

"Pretending is about all I know. Had to. Sometimes in order to survive, and others in order to be of better use to others. My heritage, my home... Even my own damned name. All things I had to hide. Couldn't afford weakness, even when I was weak."

She always was.

A shuddering sigh escapes her breath as Jade's shoulders slump. "I'd almost forgotten what her face looked like... Rami's."

[arlathvhen]

Lavellan only nods when Jade comments on the springs, making a noise of agreement. She's working through something--something related to the memories they both just witnessed, most likely--and Lavellan is content to sit there, the warm water twisting between them, waiting to see if Jade would accept her offer to leave things as they were, or not.

You can't force people to speak. If she's learned anything from being a leader, it's that. You can only make sure that they feel safe to speak, and wait for them to do it.

"...I understand. You do what you must to survive." It's said in the voice of one who doesn't just understand on a conceptual level, but one who has done it in turn. "What we do in order to see another day is less a reflection on who we truly are, and more a reflection on the circumstances that we have found ourselves in." At least, that's what she'd like to believe. It's a nice thought.

"I'm sorry that you found yourself in a situation that forced you to hide so much of yourself for your survival--though I'm glad that you did indeed survive." Lavellan's eyes turn to the water, clear as normal now, that had once had a girl's face upon its surface. "She is your sister? Younger sister."

b

[loosed]

When Felassan sits at the edge of the pool across from Beleth, it's with the intent to say something that might eventually meander its way into something resembling an apology. But he doesn't have the chance. His feet have no sooner slid into the water than light stirs above it, taking the form of two people he recognizes and two he does not.

Leaving Inquisitor Lavellan feeling more open and exposed to a man she's cross with for lying to her is not what he came over here to do, so he's withdrawing one of his feet, preparing to stand up and step away again, when Empress makes him still. Unless he missed something — which is possible, he hardly cared — there is only one shemlen kingdom with Emperors and Empresses, so —

So by the time the projection of Beleth above the water says Celene, his foot has returned to the water. By the time the apparition of Solas says Briala, he's gone further than that, wading in to stand nearly on top of the scene, nearly inside it.

"Is she," he begins to ask.

It's clear from his voice that he isn't smiling, for once, but his face is obscured by the memory. It isn't finished; the dwarf cuts off his question, threatening to leave. Felassan is near enough that he's able to step around to keep a clear view of the figure of Beleth as it turns to reassure the worried woman and smiles.

"Briala," he clarifies. He doesn't care about Celene. "Was she still alive in your time?"

[arlathvhen]

There is an actual moment of surprise that Felassan has approached her, and she didn't scare him off by being awful while he was trying to joke around. She's forming an apology of her own, an assurance that she understands the situation that he was in, when the memory starts playing. While it's certainly an awkward one, and Beleth would have preferred to keep that little tidbit to herself, it's not what catches her eye.

It is the first time that she's seen Felassan look so intensely serious about something. Like this assassination plot is the first time that he's ever actually cared about anything that has occurred since his time here, even when he was talking about whatever happened between him and Solas. Once again, she's missing pieces of the puzzle of Felassan, and she wishes she could grab him and dunk him in the water until one of his memories floated to the top.

Or: She can just answer his question.

"She is. She the Marquise of the Dales, and the true power behind the throne of Orlais. Much to the displeasure of the nobles, but--" A flippant hand wave. "--They didn't dare to actually do anything to her. She's an apt player of the Game, and an ally to many people who would take issue with raising arms against her." Most notably, of course, Beleth herself. "Or, at least, that's how it was. When the Evanuris escaped, Briala turned her spy network to root out the Venatori in Orlais, and gave us enough warning to get the Wardens and Gaspard's forces into position. We managed to convince the nobility to put aside the rules against elves wielding weapons for the purpose of fighting the blight--a lot of them ending up in the Wardens, last I heard--and she spent a great deal of time trying to evacuate the alienages."

There's a pause after the lengthy spiel, and Beleth's lips thin as she stares into the water--not at the already disappearing memory, but dwelling on one that has thankfully stayed in her head. "Though...elves still disproportionately died, of course. That's always the way, isn't it? But it would've been much worse, if she hadn't been there." What would it have been like, if Beleth and Briala hadn't been there? If two of the main powers in Thedas weren't so focused on elven welfare? Without the extra attention, and the elves already coming under scrutiny for it being their gods that were doing this--

One shudders to think.

[loosed]

The relief Felassan feels is not fatherly. He couldn't really claim that. Mere days before he sacrificed everything for her, he'd given some serious consideration to killing her himself — his pupil a touch too apt — and perhaps he did love her, too, but it wasn't love that changed his mind. It was her dream. Her schemes. Her double-cross of the Empress she loved but finally understood she couldn't trust. It was believing she could succeed. He'd have been bothered to learn she'd died, but that is, as the poets say, what people are always doing. He'd have been more bothered to learn none of it mattered.

But it did. And it matters that Solas did not kill the unwelcome interloper in the Crossroads, when he surely had a chance or two. And it matters that Beleth had a clever hand in pushing things ahead. The memory flickers out of view as she speaks and leaves him standing here, soaked to his thighs, watching her.

"A lot can happen in the aftermath of chaos like that," he says.

[arlathvhen]

"Thedas only has two modes: Chaos and the aftermath of the chaos." It's said idly, though as far as Beleth is aware, it's true. It felt like there was always a crisis to either handle, either as it happened, or cleaning up its wake. But she's pretty sure that's not what Felassan is trying to ask, or maybe imply.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you what will happen to her, even if I were to return to Thedas. I stepped aside from my role as Inquisitor, and left with Solas." Has she told him that? Well, she mentioned the scolding circle. "But if she managed to hang on to her position for this long, I think she'll be able to handle the aftermath." She can't guarantee anything, of course. Felassan was right: A lot can happen, especially when a blight nearly destroys the continent and opens up power vacuums.

Then: "Your clothes are wet." Sir, did you see how cold it is outside of the springs?

[loosed]

So they are. He glances down, tilts his head in consideration, and retreats to the wall across from her to sit there instead, feet still in the water but the rest allowed to dry.

It would be convenient if the springs plucked something from the forefront of his mind to display now. Briala as a girl, cloak torn away and mask askew, hands in fists that could not have saved her from the highwaymen if Felassan hadn't come silent and inexorable as a creature out of nightmares. Briala by a fire, telling him how her parents were killed in the shemlens' tussling over their throne, about her hopes for the better world she imagined existed among the Dalish.

He could have taken her then to Clan Virnehn. They may even have taken her, after their Keeper lectured him for a while about making them feed a stray. Instead he told her, barely more than a child, that if she wanted a better world she had to turn around and walk back into the mouth of the beast.

But the water is not that obliging. It stays still and dark.

"She was ready," Felassan says after a moment. He won't see the end. It sounds as if Beleth won't, either. But, as with the forests he's watched burn with unworried interest, maybe the Orlais has been scorched clear enough to make room for something new. "Thank you for your hand in it."

[arlathvhen]

"I gave her the tools and opportunity." Or maybe Florianne had, but Beleth had allowed it to happen. Watched a single dagger end the reign of an Empress. "She was the one who wielded them."

But now Beleth has her head cocked, and she's examining Felassan with a keen interest, taking in his features. His coloring was similar enough, she thought--save the eyes, of course, but Beleth knew better than anyone that those purple eyes were a rarity these days. Even moreso for someone who had not been whisked away into a Circle. The mother would have to be a little paler, but--

"I think, Felassan, that it would not be graceless to say that I have been very forthcoming with you," Even when you were not, is not said, but implied. "If you would indulge me for but a moment... May I ask why the interest in Briala? How did it come to pass that you came to know, and take an interest in the welfare of a city elf embroiled in The Game?"