( Abella makes herself stand and open the door. Her skin has taken on an unhealthy pallor, and sheās holding the unlit cigarette between two knuckles. She looks a little like she was just dunked in icy water, save for being totally dry.
Even so, she brightens at the sight of the cat. )
Hi, little menace. I bet you donāt say freaky things out of the blue to people youāve just met, huh?
Hey, some of the other rifters are a lot worse. Have you even heard the Head Healer sometimes?
( Her eyes flicker down to the unlit cigarette — feels that itch in the back of her throat for a smoke, maybe she shouldāve brought along some elfroot to calm down the other woman, too — but then she readjusts her grip on the little menace in her arms. )
You gonna invite me in? You can rescue me from this cat like you promised.
( Rocking back on her feet drifts into a swaying step back - forced lackadaisical, no drink involved. Like she can make herself feel better by putting on an act of being at ease, even when sheās in a state.
Itās an unspoken invitation, but why risk leaving Astrid in the lurch? )
Come on in. Would you like a drink?
( As for the Head Healer, ) I havenāt had the pleasure. I hope heās not trading in body parts, I make enough excuses to avoid going to the check-ups as is.
( The joke was maybe more that she was up to, right now, and she looks away from Astrid as she says it, trying to get her hands on some liquor. )
( because her next batch of homemade liquor is still steeping down at the makeshift tavern and itāll be a while before itās ready for human consumption, so sheāll take whatever she can get. And she just goes ahead and settles down on the other womanās bed, whereupon the cat instantly squirms out of her arms and leaps onto Abellaās pillow instead, where it sits and starts grooming itself. Both of them making themselves at home. )
( A good thing, normally, even with the strange link between her appreciated her good health and feeling uneasy with how incredibly unfeminine she feels.
Cigarette set down, she grabs two wooden cups, and a brown bottle of something that smells a bit like an apple smacking you in the face with a brick, if the brick were also made of apples. Itās potent and sweet, rather than good, and she smiles apologetically as she holds a cup out to Astrid. )
Sorry. Daan would be able to make a mean cocktail with this, at least.
( Astrid sniffs the cup, and her nose wrinkles but she also canāt help but grin at that eye-watering astringent strength of it. )
Iām gonna make you try my akvavit. Iāve got some steepinā down at the tavern, itās just got maybe a week left. I forced some people to be taste-testers for the herb mixture earlier, so youād get to be experiment number two.
( Then she goes ahead and takes a swig; maybe a little too much, unwisely, so her face crumples into that potent blow and she wipes off her mouth with the back of her hand. And itās thanks to her strong stomach, her preference for liquor that can punch you in the face, the Avvarsā tendency to drink so many people under the table, but: )
( Her smile is small and wry aāher sets her cup down, focusing on the eye-watering taste to ground herself. Itās a mixed success. Keeping a little bit of distance, she doesnāt join Astrid and the pillow bandit on her bed, instead claiming a wooden chair, straddling it with the back facing the bed. )
Nothing on my grandpaās schnapps.
( That was something.
Abella realises she has no idea what to say, how to sweep this under the rug. She sighs. )
( If Astrid were more tactful, or more conflict-averse, she might have seized on that offer and allowed Abella to shove it all back in a box and slam that lid shut and lock it. But. )
I mean, we donāt have to talk about it if you donāt want to. If youāre not comfortable, like. But I canāt pretend I never heard about a big talking cat in purple who trades in body parts. Are you okay?
( Others are perhaps more accustomed to rifters and their troubles, the horrors theyāve left behind in coming here. Astrid doesnāt have that background yet, and isnāt used to talking them through these crises. She left her own troubles behind, but she chose to run; she wasnāt plucked from it as Abella was.
She scoots further to the edge of the bed. Cup lowered and tilted too far against her knee, a careless drop spilling as she doesnāt notice. )
Itās not like you had a choice, ( she says, firm, and itās about coming to Thedas; but it unknowingly might fit about the train, too. ) You didnāt choose to leave them. Donāt feel guilty about that.
( Her gaze is still fixed on the floor, away from Astrid. She nods, even that movement jagged and betraying her emotion. )
I know.
( Blinking, she hasn't quite recognised that tears have spilled down her cheeks. )
But I hate that I'm here and they're not. There were-- we were given three days, and told only one of us could survive to the end. They could have had to kill each other, and I've just been safe here.
( Thereās more details and context to seize at there, if Abellaās come from some sort of fucked-up battle royale, but Astridās chewing on her lip, her boot jogging against the floor. Trying to decide what the right approach is, before she finally settles on: )
I mean, in fairness, youāre not safe here either. I donāt know if thatās any consolation? ( This is a bizarre consolation. But itās an attempt, her voice warm and trying for reassuring. ) I mean, look at the towers we just had to rebuild, and parts of the city are still fucked. Thereās demons and blighted animals and darkspawn and an evil god-sorcerer-guy who wants to kill us. Youāre not not in danger. Technically, like. We could go get bitten by some fucked-up Fade-touched bears if thatād make you feel better.
( Abella wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and shakes her head with a broken laugh. )
Youāre an ass.
( Itās not a criticism. The honest reminder of all the dangers here both helps and doesnāt. )
Weāre being driven to insanity. And at the end of three daysā if we donāt figure out a way to get everyone out alive, weāll turn into monsters, too. Thereās terrible things everywhere, and I know people here are suffering. I donātā Iām not trying to dismiss that like itās nothing.
( She makes herself look back to Astrid. She has to, if only to convey that she knows Thedas is hardly idyllic, and even then convey the weight of where her friends are. )
Prehevil was turned intoā- into hell with a countdown. Itās not the same thing.
( That little half-laugh is what Astrid was aiming for, but she canāt feel too triumphant about it yet. What do you even say to a thing like this? Three days. Three days, she thinks. The war hereās been going on for the better part of a decade, even if Astrid hasnāt been on the frontlines of it until recently; she remembers her mother helping the Inquisition when she was only a teenager. )
Then Iām sorry. That you were there in such rotten bullshit, and that theyāre still there.
But— selfishly, like, for your own sake, Iām glad that youāre here instead. Because that sounds awful.
( Abella stands; being still when talking about Termina feels viscerally wrong, and she rolls her shoulders like limbering up might help physically shrug it off. )
All-mer.
( Barely more than a whisper as she shakes it off. )
Can you tell me about the mountains, here? Something to get my head out of Prehevil.
( A momentary pause, and Astridās gaze drifting over to the window of the room and its distant view out over the Waking Sea. There was a mountain range to the north of the city, but it wasnāt the same; they werenāt sprawled at your feet and surrounding you, the way she was used to. )
Thereās a few around Thedas; like, thereās the Vimmark Mountains just to the north of us, but Iām from the Frostbacks down south, like I mentioned. I havenāt—
( Another beat. )
I havenāt gone back, since I came to Kirkwall, so I havenāt seen them in a while. Some people think theyāre harsh or itās hard to survive there but I think theyāre lovely. Thereās wolves, bears, rabbits, deer, lots of game, though weāre careful to not over-hunt. In winter, your hair can freeze to icicles after you bathe. The mornings are so crisp it hurts the back of your throat.
( Which might sound terrible and uncomfortable to some, maybe, but thereās just a wistful, fond nostalgia in Astridās voice as she speaks of it. )
( A little smile curls at the corners of her mouth. Slight, barely lasting a moment, before she shakily exhales. Blinking a couple of times, Abella refocuses on Astrid, and leans partly against the bed frame. )
Is there a reason you haven't gone home? Other than missions and the distance.
( Surely there'd be reasons why it'd be necessary to go there, and useful to have mountainfolk amongst the numbers for such a mission. The hesitation caught her attention; in a strange way, the suggestion of someone else's struggles anchors her even more than the thought of cold that cuts through your lungs with each breath. )
( How many people know about her hold-beast? Not many. GwenaĆ«lle, because sheād been there when the rift opened up. Gannicus, because heād asked.
It both feels absurd to mention this, petty and small compared to Abellaās own problems; but after the other woman opened up about Prehevil and Pocketcat then it would feel even more unfair, not baring a sliver of her own heart this way. )
Thereāsā¦ Iām sorry, this is gonna sound like fucking nothing. But each Avvar hold has a sacred animal called a hold-beast. Theyāre the spirit of our community. They represent the health of our entire society.
I followed ours out here. I was trying to find out what was wrong with him, but he— died. I canāt go back until I know more. I donāt really want to see the looks on their faces when they know I let them down. Let him down.
( Abella shakes her head as she sits, one leg tucked under herself, the other hanging off the side of the bed. She looks a little in shock, actually, and stays in silence as she sorts through her thoughts, the memories of their first conversation. )
Wulfhold. ( A realisation. ) The sacred wolf that your community and your home is named after.
( Gently, she catches Astrid's wrist. She'll catch her gaze, as well, if she can. )
Don't diminish how important this is. My world having-- the things I saw doesn't mean that anyone else's hurts don't matter, or that something short of a murder festival isn't painful or terrible.
( She unconsciously eases into Abellaās touch, meeting her gaze. Itās comforting; she doesnāt shy away. )
Donāt say it like that or weāll all be expecting to run into murder festivals— But, yeah. Wulfhold. We had a wolf, just as Stone-Bear Hold has a bear.
( That past tense hurts, especially alongside the other holdās present tense. )
( Gently, no condescension in it. More like she's checking that they're not somehow weirdly magical and immortal, or something. )
There was another hold-beast before this one. It doesn't make it hurt any less that he passed, but it doesn't mean Wulfhold will be without a wolf forever.
( She smiles, sad and hopeful at the same time, brushing her thumb across Astrid's wrist to comfort her. )
Maybe he lead you here so you could learn something important for your home. Maybe you'll even find his successor. Things not going to plan doesn't mean you've let them down, it just means the path is longer than you'd like.
( Half-laughing, rueful, ) Now you sound like my uncle. Heās always so steady and philosophical and shit.
( But theyāre such comforting words. If she could carve them into her memory, always remember themā¦ Thereās another twist in her chest. Astridās always been homesick, but for the first time she can imagine something else. There would definitely be holdfolk whoād be scornful and furious about what happened, but uncle Pike, at least, would be patient and kind.
Maybe sheāll write to him, someday. )
They live longer than most normal animals — the effect of the spirit, I think, donāt ask me how the fuck it works — but they do die eventually, yeah. Itās justā¦ it should be natural, yāknow? At home in the mountains, either from old age or normal sickness or fighting other animals. An honourable death. Not wasting away from Fade shit, going crazy next to a rift. He didnāt deserve that. But yeah. Youāre right.
( Lightly teasing, just catching Astrid with a gentle nudge.
That break can't absolve the weight of it all, though, and she wouldn't want it to; talking things through or even just sitting with the acknowledgement can help. Deflecting with jokes would just let it all fester, and it sounds like its been doing that long enough.
Her smile fades. )
No one would deserve it. Not him, not me or you or a cavalry horse.
( She remembers that horse in Prehevil. How had a dead animal stuck out so much in amongst all that carnage? )
It's horrible that he went through that, but-- that doesn't mean it was in vain. Maybe you being here will make all the difference, or your people finding out about it can help the Avaar prepare and protect themselves, or become more involved in what's happening.
( Said softly, none of her usual earnestness in it. What happened wasn't the right thing, or Alll-Mer's plan or any of the things people might say about awful shit. She's sorrowful, too focused on Astrid to think of hoping that the effort to salvage something from an incident that's causing Astrid so much pain is seen for what it is and not something more ignorant and insidious. )
( It had been easy to dodge or sidestep this topic, so long as a colleague hadnāt actually seen it happen themselves; hadnāt been there to haul the dead wolf off Astridās panicky body. Sheād settled into Riftwatch life. A big beaming smile, a laugh, a strong drink, all to hide the fact that there was anything under the surface. Generally skirted this subject in the meantime. )
Something something something, learningās all the difference. I remember back when the Inquisition first startedā¦
( She sets her empty cup aside and turns her hand in Abellaās, her free hand reaching out to flip Abellaās palm instead to reveal the shard of green, Astridās fingertips running along it like sheās checking lifelines. The anchor that all rifters have. )
These things. I heard of a Sky Watcher went and joined the Inquisition outright ācos of this. Because the rifts are tears in the sky, right, and healing them must be a good thing for our goddess, the Lady of the Skies. Iām not a priest and I donāt know anything about anything, but it does feel sort of right? A good place to be, to make a difference.
( It was why she was still here; and hadnāt yet gone skulking home with her tail between her legs. )
( The familiarity of the gesture is comforting in a place where thats in such a deficit. As much as Astrid might be a new acquaintance in the timeline of her life, even just this year, the comfort inherent in the points of cultural overlap might be enougn to make her one of Abella's closest friends, here. She'd need to be mindful not to lean too hard into that, or she could wind up clutchin to her like a buoy in a surging sea. Treat people like that and they drown.
She nods, is quiet a moment, and then--)
Sky Watcher... are they holy people?
( It seems reasonable to conclude, but for all she knows they could be more like a mayor than a priest. )
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Even so, she brightens at the sight of the cat. )
Hi, little menace. I bet you donāt say freaky things out of the blue to people youāve just met, huh?
( Ha ha ha help )
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( Her eyes flicker down to the unlit cigarette — feels that itch in the back of her throat for a smoke, maybe she shouldāve brought along some elfroot to calm down the other woman, too — but then she readjusts her grip on the little menace in her arms. )
You gonna invite me in? You can rescue me from this cat like you promised.
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Itās an unspoken invitation, but why risk leaving Astrid in the lurch? )
Come on in. Would you like a drink?
( As for the Head Healer, ) I havenāt had the pleasure. I hope heās not trading in body parts, I make enough excuses to avoid going to the check-ups as is.
( The joke was maybe more that she was up to, right now, and she looks away from Astrid as she says it, trying to get her hands on some liquor. )
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( because her next batch of homemade liquor is still steeping down at the makeshift tavern and itāll be a while before itās ready for human consumption, so sheāll take whatever she can get. And she just goes ahead and settles down on the other womanās bed, whereupon the cat instantly squirms out of her arms and leaps onto Abellaās pillow instead, where it sits and starts grooming itself. Both of them making themselves at home. )
Youāre not allergic or anything, are you?
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( A good thing, normally, even with the strange link between her appreciated her good health and feeling uneasy with how incredibly unfeminine she feels.
Cigarette set down, she grabs two wooden cups, and a brown bottle of something that smells a bit like an apple smacking you in the face with a brick, if the brick were also made of apples. Itās potent and sweet, rather than good, and she smiles apologetically as she holds a cup out to Astrid. )
Sorry. Daan would be able to make a mean cocktail with this, at least.
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Iām gonna make you try my akvavit. Iāve got some steepinā down at the tavern, itās just got maybe a week left. I forced some people to be taste-testers for the herb mixture earlier, so youād get to be experiment number two.
( Then she goes ahead and takes a swig; maybe a little too much, unwisely, so her face crumples into that potent blow and she wipes off her mouth with the back of her hand. And itās thanks to her strong stomach, her preference for liquor that can punch you in the face, the Avvarsā tendency to drink so many people under the table, but: )
What are you talking about, this is great.
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Nothing on my grandpaās schnapps.
( That was something.
Abella realises she has no idea what to say, how to sweep this under the rug. She sighs. )
Can we pretend I never told you about Pocketcat?
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( If Astrid were more tactful, or more conflict-averse, she might have seized on that offer and allowed Abella to shove it all back in a box and slam that lid shut and lock it. But. )
I mean, we donāt have to talk about it if you donāt want to. If youāre not comfortable, like. But I canāt pretend I never heard about a big talking cat in purple who trades in body parts. Are you okay?
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Are you okay?
Despite herself, Abella feels her expression twist, looking away from Astrid as if thatāll make the grief less obvious. )
No.
( Her voice betrays her as much as her face, but the reality she hasnāt shared since she got here tumbles out regardless. )
Theyāre all trapped there. Itās not fair that I get to be here and theyāre all being hunted down by monsters, and Levi and Marina are just kids.
( Abella knows sheās said too much. If thereās a fault in a dam, itās inevitable that itāll fail. )
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She scoots further to the edge of the bed. Cup lowered and tilted too far against her knee, a careless drop spilling as she doesnāt notice. )
Itās not like you had a choice, ( she says, firm, and itās about coming to Thedas; but it unknowingly might fit about the train, too. ) You didnāt choose to leave them. Donāt feel guilty about that.
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I know.
( Blinking, she hasn't quite recognised that tears have spilled down her cheeks. )
But I hate that I'm here and they're not. There were-- we were given three days, and told only one of us could survive to the end. They could have had to kill each other, and I've just been safe here.
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I mean, in fairness, youāre not safe here either. I donāt know if thatās any consolation? ( This is a bizarre consolation. But itās an attempt, her voice warm and trying for reassuring. ) I mean, look at the towers we just had to rebuild, and parts of the city are still fucked. Thereās demons and blighted animals and darkspawn and an evil god-sorcerer-guy who wants to kill us. Youāre not not in danger. Technically, like. We could go get bitten by some fucked-up Fade-touched bears if thatād make you feel better.
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Youāre an ass.
( Itās not a criticism. The honest reminder of all the dangers here both helps and doesnāt. )
Weāre being driven to insanity. And at the end of three daysā if we donāt figure out a way to get everyone out alive, weāll turn into monsters, too. Thereās terrible things everywhere, and I know people here are suffering. I donātā Iām not trying to dismiss that like itās nothing.
( She makes herself look back to Astrid. She has to, if only to convey that she knows Thedas is hardly idyllic, and even then convey the weight of where her friends are. )
Prehevil was turned intoā- into hell with a countdown. Itās not the same thing.
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Then Iām sorry. That you were there in such rotten bullshit, and that theyāre still there.
But— selfishly, like, for your own sake, Iām glad that youāre here instead. Because that sounds awful.
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( Abella stands; being still when talking about Termina feels viscerally wrong, and she rolls her shoulders like limbering up might help physically shrug it off. )
All-mer.
( Barely more than a whisper as she shakes it off. )
Can you tell me about the mountains, here? Something to get my head out of Prehevil.
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Thereās a few around Thedas; like, thereās the Vimmark Mountains just to the north of us, but Iām from the Frostbacks down south, like I mentioned. I havenāt—
( Another beat. )
I havenāt gone back, since I came to Kirkwall, so I havenāt seen them in a while. Some people think theyāre harsh or itās hard to survive there but I think theyāre lovely. Thereās wolves, bears, rabbits, deer, lots of game, though weāre careful to not over-hunt. In winter, your hair can freeze to icicles after you bathe. The mornings are so crisp it hurts the back of your throat.
( Which might sound terrible and uncomfortable to some, maybe, but thereās just a wistful, fond nostalgia in Astridās voice as she speaks of it. )
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( A little smile curls at the corners of her mouth. Slight, barely lasting a moment, before she shakily exhales. Blinking a couple of times, Abella refocuses on Astrid, and leans partly against the bed frame. )
Is there a reason you haven't gone home? Other than missions and the distance.
( Surely there'd be reasons why it'd be necessary to go there, and useful to have mountainfolk amongst the numbers for such a mission. The hesitation caught her attention; in a strange way, the suggestion of someone else's struggles anchors her even more than the thought of cold that cuts through your lungs with each breath. )
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( How many people know about her hold-beast? Not many. GwenaĆ«lle, because sheād been there when the rift opened up. Gannicus, because heād asked.
It both feels absurd to mention this, petty and small compared to Abellaās own problems; but after the other woman opened up about Prehevil and Pocketcat then it would feel even more unfair, not baring a sliver of her own heart this way. )
Thereāsā¦ Iām sorry, this is gonna sound like fucking nothing. But each Avvar hold has a sacred animal called a hold-beast. Theyāre the spirit of our community. They represent the health of our entire society.
I followed ours out here. I was trying to find out what was wrong with him, but he— died. I canāt go back until I know more. I donāt really want to see the looks on their faces when they know I let them down. Let him down.
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Wulfhold. ( A realisation. ) The sacred wolf that your community and your home is named after.
( Gently, she catches Astrid's wrist. She'll catch her gaze, as well, if she can. )
Don't diminish how important this is. My world having-- the things I saw doesn't mean that anyone else's hurts don't matter, or that something short of a murder festival isn't painful or terrible.
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Donāt say it like that or weāll all be expecting to run into murder festivals— But, yeah. Wulfhold. We had a wolf, just as Stone-Bear Hold has a bear.
( That past tense hurts, especially alongside the other holdās present tense. )
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( Gently, no condescension in it. More like she's checking that they're not somehow weirdly magical and immortal, or something. )
There was another hold-beast before this one. It doesn't make it hurt any less that he passed, but it doesn't mean Wulfhold will be without a wolf forever.
( She smiles, sad and hopeful at the same time, brushing her thumb across Astrid's wrist to comfort her. )
Maybe he lead you here so you could learn something important for your home. Maybe you'll even find his successor. Things not going to plan doesn't mean you've let them down, it just means the path is longer than you'd like.
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( But theyāre such comforting words. If she could carve them into her memory, always remember themā¦ Thereās another twist in her chest. Astridās always been homesick, but for the first time she can imagine something else. There would definitely be holdfolk whoād be scornful and furious about what happened, but uncle Pike, at least, would be patient and kind.
Maybe sheāll write to him, someday. )
They live longer than most normal animals — the effect of the spirit, I think, donāt ask me how the fuck it works — but they do die eventually, yeah. Itās justā¦ it should be natural, yāknow? At home in the mountains, either from old age or normal sickness or fighting other animals. An honourable death. Not wasting away from Fade shit, going crazy next to a rift. He didnāt deserve that. But yeah. Youāre right.
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( Lightly teasing, just catching Astrid with a gentle nudge.
That break can't absolve the weight of it all, though, and she wouldn't want it to; talking things through or even just sitting with the acknowledgement can help. Deflecting with jokes would just let it all fester, and it sounds like its been doing that long enough.
Her smile fades. )
No one would deserve it. Not him, not me or you or a cavalry horse.
( She remembers that horse in Prehevil. How had a dead animal stuck out so much in amongst all that carnage? )
It's horrible that he went through that, but-- that doesn't mean it was in vain. Maybe you being here will make all the difference, or your people finding out about it can help the Avaar prepare and protect themselves, or become more involved in what's happening.
( Said softly, none of her usual earnestness in it. What happened wasn't the right thing, or Alll-Mer's plan or any of the things people might say about awful shit. She's sorrowful, too focused on Astrid to think of hoping that the effort to salvage something from an incident that's causing Astrid so much pain is seen for what it is and not something more ignorant and insidious. )
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Something something something, learningās all the difference. I remember back when the Inquisition first startedā¦
( She sets her empty cup aside and turns her hand in Abellaās, her free hand reaching out to flip Abellaās palm instead to reveal the shard of green, Astridās fingertips running along it like sheās checking lifelines. The anchor that all rifters have. )
These things. I heard of a Sky Watcher went and joined the Inquisition outright ācos of this. Because the rifts are tears in the sky, right, and healing them must be a good thing for our goddess, the Lady of the Skies. Iām not a priest and I donāt know anything about anything, but it does feel sort of right? A good place to be, to make a difference.
( It was why she was still here; and hadnāt yet gone skulking home with her tail between her legs. )
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She nods, is quiet a moment, and then--)
Sky Watcher... are they holy people?
( It seems reasonable to conclude, but for all she knows they could be more like a mayor than a priest. )
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somehow i misread 'burials' as 'turnips,' devastated I realised before replying tbh
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