entrancelogs | [OPEN/EVENT] Time was thrown at the wind;

Entry tags:

[OPEN/EVENT] Time was thrown at the wind;

Who: Dorian Pavus & you!
Where: The gardens, then throughout the mansion and grounds.
When: 9/16 - 9/20
Rating: R, probably.
Summary: Dorian returns from his long visit home on the 16th, and is welcomed back by a nasty event the day afterwards. Splendid work, Wonderland! This log will have heavy spoilers for DA:I Trespasser, as a note to those who would prefer to avoid them.
The Story:

When Dorian awakes in the gardens, Dorian idly wonders if this is going to become a running theme-- for a few moments, he thinks he might be dreaming, but his memories of Wonderland come rushing back all at once. He'd only spent two months here before going home, if that, but those memories return as bright and vivid as though it's only been days since he left.

It hasn't. It's been much longer-- two years, and it feels even longer than that. 'Feels like ten,' he'd told Brennan when they'd met again at Halamshiral, forced to admit that after all that had happened, he felt old, tired, then quickly swept it under the rug with a series of jokes and irreverent remarks to try pretend the news from home didn't weigh on him quite so heavily. Brennan had known better, but he liked to think that some of their friends were fooled. Perhaps not. They'd all had ample time to get to know him, but it made him feel better, in part, to assume otherwise.

Once he regains his bearings, he's quick to make his way back towards the mansion. He looks different from the Dorian who had departed only a week before; aside from the change in his attire, he does look older, having gained a few more lines around his eyes, and his hair has just begun to grow out of the short crop he'd kept it in for so long, unkempt after the long, tireless haul through the Eluvians that still felt so surreal a part of him couldn't even be sure that it happened-- a small part, because the smell of blood and gaatlok and the bite of Qunari steel were too sharp in his memory to be anything but real.

He has to find Brennan. If Dorian has returned to this place, then Brennan must have, also, or so he wishes to believe. Too much has happened for them to be separated again now. Nearly two years apart had been trying enough, but now the Inquisitor needed his companions at his side, perhaps more than ever, and while business at home would be quick to steal Dorian back to Tevinter, here there was no such issue. Here he could help, see if Wonderland bought them more time to deal with this new problem that had been dropped in their laps.

On the 16th, he'll be quick to make his way to the room he shares with Brennan on the third floor, but can easily be caught making his way through the gardens or entrance hall before he reaches it, looking far more harried than usual. Later in the day, he can be found in kitchen or dining hall, and will be spending the early evening hours at a table in the library with a number of books laid out before him, though it's unlikely he'll be permitted to work late considering his week-long absence.

When the 17th rolls around, the curse will effect him the same as everyone else. The strangely darkened sky will catch his interest, and he's outdoors in the gardens when the curse itself strikes-- at 6:20 PM, he'll be caught in the downpour of cursed shards and the spell will take hold. He doesn't know many people in Wonderland well enough to have even minor grievances to be amplified-- but there are also those he does, few though they may be. To them, the curse will be especially unkind.

(OOC: Prose or action are both a-ok, I'll match you! If you want to run into Dorian on the 16th, feel free to intercept him before he finds Brennan or catch him in the evening in any of the common areas. For the Shattered Sight event, he'll be available throughout the mansion and grounds on various days if your character wants to encounter him, just put the location in the subject title! If you'd like to plot something more specific, toss me a PM or hit me up at

necrofancy.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Brennan's been torn over the past few days between wandering out and searching the house and the grounds in impatient restlessness for what he hopes will be his lover's imminent return or staying put in the rooms they've claimed for themselves in case Dorian comes to find him here first. Conundrums.

Luckily, when Dorian does finally show back up, Brennan's in his quarters, currently sprawled on the couch, having dozed off with a book spread open on his chest. Having endured a week of sleepless nights in a bed that now felt too big and empty when he inhabited it alone, he's taken to catching quick catnaps to make up for it, completely oblivious to the fact that the return he's been waiting for has happened while he slept.

Dorian's breath catches when he sees him. Were he in better spirits, he might have made a show of it purely for dramatic effect, but he gives genuine pause when he enters the room and sees Brennan sprawled in front of him, asleep, book left carelessly open, and it has nothing to do with the reunion itself-- he'd been almost positive he'd find Brennan here, and it hadn't been so terribly long since he'd left him in the first place. It's how he finds him that makes him freeze in place for a moment, hand still resting on the doorknob as the door itself remains ajar behind him.

It's the fact that Brennan is whole that alarms him, makes him swallow hard before he brings himself back to the present, takes a moment to close the door behind him.

His immediate thought is that it must be Wonderland's magic at work, that Wonderland had somehow restored him, but the theory itself is quickly overshadowed by doubt. He knows how time works here-- but he doesn't want to consider that Brennan might not know all he knows. It seems inconceivable, he'd just seen him, he hadn't even departed for Tevinter again until--

He exhales slowly before venturing forward, setting Brennan's book aside and perching himself on the edge of the couch, taking a firm hold of the warrior's left hand between his own. It was solid, real, and he feels his chest tighten at the all-too-recent memory of the damage that had been done to it.

"Amatus."

Brennan comes awake with a start, eyes blinking groggily up at the man perched beside him a moment before memory sinks in and then he's grinning and throwing his arms around Dorian's shoulders as he abruptly drags him into a tight hug.

"Oh, thank the Maker. One more fucking day and I would have gone mad," he grits out, clutching the mage to him in a warm embrace. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

He was smiling, as though the world were now suddenly as it should be simply because Dorian had returned, and that alone confirms the mage's fears. He says nothing of it to start with, only offers his own smile in return as they embrace, pulling back just enough to catch Brennan's face between both his hands and kiss him squarely on the lips, chaste and yet grateful to have found him this way-- even if it complicated things.

"No injuries a quick restorative couldn't fix. I'm fine-- how long have I been gone?"

"A week," Brennan answers, although he's awake enough now that he can take the man in fully. The weariness and exhaustion still written in his face. The change in hairstyle. Subtle differences that many might not pick up on, but Brennan's spent considerable time and attention in memorizing every inch of his lover's face and form so that now that he takes a moment to look, there are glaring inconsistencies with the man he misplaced a week ago.

The understanding has his smile dimming as he cups a hand against the mage's cheek, meeting his gaze seriously.

"What's happened? How long were you home for?"

"A week."

He exhales slowly as he releases Brennan, the smile leaving his eyes as it sinks in-- such a miserably short period of time compared to all that had happened, and he wasn't even sure where he should begin when it came to explaining. His return to Tevinter, his work there with Maevaris, the reason he'd returned to the south-- the Eluvians and what they'd found beyond them.

He shakes his head, a frown pulling at his lips now.

"Two years. It feels like far more."

"Two years?" Brennan echoes, his eyes going wide as he sits back, gaping at the mage for a moment in disbelief. "Are you serious? What... How... Is that even possible?"

They've only known each other a year, as busy a year as that has been. To know that Dorian's shifted that far ahead of him... He can't wrap his brain around it.

"Maker's balls."

"You say that as though it's the first you've ever heard of time magic," Dorian remarks wryly, but his smile doesn't last-- he has no heart for teasing at the moment, no stomach for his own usual theatrics, and instead he shakes his head a second time, reaching out to take hold of Brennan's hand once more, the mark pulsing softly beneath the curl of his fingers.

"The same phenomenon that brought Lady Cousland and Morrigan here from times remarkably different than our own must have been responsible." They've heard plenty about how time works here, how it's often out of sorts, but he'd never truly grasped exactly how jarring it had the potential to be until now, even having moved through time himself in the past.

"Two years," he says again. "A great deal has happened, amatus."

"I hate time magic." It's said with a fervency that has his fingers clenching in a white-knuckled grip of the mage's robes a moment before he lets his head drop forward to Dorian's shoulder, holding him there. It gives his mind a moment to come to terms with the reality he's now face with.

And, apparently, the two years his lover has now had without him.

He sighs and straightens again, his expression serious and steeled as he lifts his head and meets Dorian's gaze. A blink, and he goes from Brennan to the Inquisitor once more, ready to deal with whatever fallout he's somehow missed.

"Tell me."

"Don't we all."

For all the work he'd put into helping Alexius develop that particular brand of magic, Dorian no longer cared if he ever saw it again-- once upon a time, it had been a revolutionary theory, something he thought they would be lauded for, but he'd only seen it bring forth pain and suffering, ruin, and he would rather see its secrets buried before it fell into the wrong hands once more.

He trains his expression to be carefully neutral as he reaches out to smooth Brennan's hair back, choosing his words with care.

"I went home to Tevinter, for a time," he begins, deciding that's as good a place to start as any. "I returned to the south with the token title of Ambassador. An Exalted Council had been called. Ferelden wished to see the Inquisition disbanded, Orlais wanted it and you beneath its collective thumb. Our dear Divine had stalled it as long as possible, but it could no longer be avoided. If it had been the Council alone, I've no doubt that things could have turned out favorably, thanks to the Divine's backing and Josephine's silver tongue, but-- there were complications."

"Of course there were." Brennan scoffs at that, because when are there ever not? And falling back on sarcastic humor gives him a moment to sort through the words for where he wanted to start first. "Let me guess. Someone was going to be assassinated? Or someone thought it would be a great opportunity to blow the lot of us up? Or, no wait. Did a dragon drop on our heads? It's not a complication till there's a dragon involved."

Turning more serious, he shakes his head and rakes agitated fingers through his hair. "Okay, first things first. Explain Tevinter. You went back? What happened? Is everything alright? And how did you end up an Ambassador, of all things? I thought you were on the outs back home?"

Dorian lets out a mirthless sort of laugh; Brennan was right on all counts, to a certain extent, and it stung more than he might have expected. A dragon, sabotage, an assassination. He doesn't confirm any of it, not yet, instead taking the opportunity Brennan offers him to go back and start from the beginning, tell each part of the story bit by bit.

"I had matters to attend to there. It was a temporary trip back home, but I needed to look in on my family, as well as bring news of some of what we'd discovered in the south to friends with some degree of influence-- it was better if they heard it from me. Magister Tilani and I have made great strides back home-- our desire for reform has earned us a legitimate party within the magisterium," he goes on to explain, a smile pulling at his lips for a moment before quickly fading. "As for being an Ambassador, I thought it was a token appointment. Now I think my father simply wanted me out of the country before any trouble started. Not two days after I arrived at the council in Halamshiral-- he was found dead. Assassinated, no doubt."

Brennan listened intently as he went into detail, and there's a hint of a smile in response when Dorian talks about progress in his homeland, something he knows Dorian feels very strongly about. And then he gets to the assassination and all semblance of a smile falls away as he reaches for his lover, sorrow flaring over his face.

"Oh, Dorian," he breathes, feeling his heart clench. "I'm so sorry, love."

He knows things with his father were still... complicated, but Dorian had at least attempted to start mending things, albeit cautiously, since that day in Redcliffe. But despite everything the man had done, he knew how deeply Dorian had still cared for his father, even if the feelings were far more complicated than that. Family matters often were.

Though he had been gone two years, he'd only had a brief matter of days to come to terms with his father's death, and even then-- it was nowhere near enough, his focus having been trained elsewhere rather than allowing himself the time and space he needed to grieve. Here, had had that time, and something in him breaks as Brennan reaches for him. No tears fall, but his face is no longer carefully blank, his composure completely lacking, and he twines his arms around Brennan's middle to embrace him, his face hidden against the warrior's shoulder as he struggles to keep himself from falling apart completely.

There was more to tell. He couldn't stop now.

"For all our disagreements, my father was a good man at his core," Dorian tells him. "That made him a great many enemies, some of whom I'm sure I'll inherit in his stead. When we go back-- if we go back-- I won't be able to stay in the south forever."

Brennan wraps his arms around Dorian tightly, one hand sliding against the mage's back in silent comfort, although those words have him tensing and pulling back slightly to cup his lover's face in his hands, searching his expression, his own eyes dark with concern.

"Shit, Dorian, you can't just tell me about how dangerous it is there in one moment and how you have to waltz right back to it in the next. I don't think I like the idea of you inheriting his enemies to begin with, but to then put yourself back within their reach? Alone? I think you're underestimating the charms of the south right now."

"I don't have a choice."

If it were at all possible to remain in the south and continue to serve as a member of the Inquisition, by all means, he would have done whatever he could to ensure that was exactly what happened-- but there was a much larger picture being painted here, one that went well beyond what he might want for himself.

"I didn't think any of my inheritance would remain in-tact, after all that's happened," he begins, laying a hand over Brennan's against the side of his face. "He left everything to me. Including his seat as a member of the magisterium."

"You always have a choice," Brennan argues fiercely, shaking his head, frown lingering on his lips. "Dorian, I know that influencing change in Tevinter is important to you, but this... Assassins are no light matter, love. Especially when you'll be there alone."

Which is a valid point to be made, he feels. Also he's pretty sure there's not any world that exists out there where he wouldn't drop everything he was doing to make sure Dorian didn't face such a thing alone.

"I won't be alone," Dorian argues, though he himself doesn't sound so convinced. "I do have my share of friends in high places. This isn't as simple as my commitment to the cause, amatus; I've been tasked with a responsibility I cannot ignore. Not without great cost to my family and others I consider dear to me," he goes on, giving Brennan himself a pointed look.

"Not returning to take his seat will be far more dangerous than doing so."

It's on the tip of his tongue to argue more, but he knows that stubborn expression on his lover's face, so he just sighs, letting his head tip forward until he rests it against Dorian's forehead. "Fine. We'll discuss it more later when we actually... are there to deal with it. But if you think for a moment I'm letting you walk back into that political minefield alone, you haven't been paying attention. Corypheus is dead. The Inquisition can handle things without me for a little while."

"As if I could ask you to follow me into that kind of danger." It's a token sort of protest, because Dorian knows he's not the only one of them who's impossibly stubborn-- nor would he be able to weather being apart for so long, not again, not when they've already spent the better part of two years apart from Dorian's perspective. Letters were hardly enough to make up for the time they'd lost.

He sighs in turn, letting his brow rest against Brennan's, setting his jaw as he refuses to pull away, letting warmth and closeness comfort him instead, silence settling over the pair of them for a few short moments.

"It's not a concern as long as we're here," he agrees softly, "But there is more that you should know, amatus."

"You don't have to ask," Brennan answers softly, cupping his hand warmly against the nape of Dorian's neck, a faint smile twitching at the very corner of his lips. "Besides, when have you ever hesitated to follow me into worse? Even if it involved swamps and mosquitoes and a dragon or three."

And the idea of facing any of it without Dorian at his side is depressing at best. As far as he's concerned, the matter is settled, because there's pretty much nothing that could keep him from his lover's side for an extended period of time.

Still, he waits patiently when Dorian segue's into that, holding his breath, because if this is the news Dorian chose to start with, he can only imagine it gets worse from there. Maker.

"The Exalted Council?" he guesses, his tone quiet. And very dry. "I can imagine that was a bit of a clusterfuck. Our favorite kind of politics."

"The only kind we seem to have any exposure to anymore," Dorian agrees with a wry smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, the weight of his father's death apparent now that he'd shared it.

"The Council itself was bad enough, with Ferelden and Orlais both demanding different things from the Inquisition, but an outside party decided to-- intervene. Sabotage," he goes on to explain, grim. "We've been infiltrated by Qunari spies."

Brennan slides his fingers along his lover's jaw soothingly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, still able to see the sadness lingering in his gaze all too easily. But he lets Dorian continue with his explanation, hoping maybe that at least will prove a distraction for the moment.

And it's a hell of a distraction, as Brennan sits up straight and shoots him a startled look. "Qunari?" he echoes, looking bewildered. "I thought they were busy with Tevinter. What in the Void are they doing that far south?"

"It's not just the south," Dorian corrects him, his expression grave as he takes on a warning tone. "They've gained access to the Eluvians-- the ability to come and go as they please, on top of whatever eyes and ears they have posted within our ranks. The Inquisition has been deemed a threat by the Viddasala-- it was not a united or fully sanctioned attack, but that matters little, considering how formidable their forces are. She was obsessed with the Mark on your hand."

"But I thought the Qunari hated magic," Brennan looks bewildered a moment. Granted, he only knows bits and pieces about their culture, but he's seen what they do to their Saarebas. And Bull was pretty strong in his feelings about 'magic crap'. "Why would they use Eluvians? And how did they find them? I thought they were almost all destroyed? We had to hike halfway across the continent to find one, and even then, they all had specific keys, didn't they?"

Apparently there was more Morrigan hadn't told him.

At least the obsession with his Mark wasn't anything new. He just snorts quietly. "Yeah, well. Someone tell her to get in line."

16th, their room

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject