warden robyn cousland (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heroica) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2015-12-05 10:50 pm
heroica) wrote in entrancelogs2015-12-05 10:50 pm
( open ) just because everything's changing
Who: Warden Robyn Cousland and you!
Where: The fifth floor bar.
When: Saturday, December 5th.
Rating: PG-13 for language, maybe? Probably just PG, though.
Summary: It's difficult enough when one of your friends doesn't remember you. When more and more people claim you never existed, doubts really begin to bloom.
The Story:
i.
[ Robyn Cousland wanders into the bar in the early evening. It isn't her first visit, but it's the first one where she's entered with the express purpose of finding a drink. This is a little strange, perhaps, given that most people seek out a bar for that exact purpose and for not much else. The Warden isn't one for excessive, or even regular drinks; it isn't a moral thing, but she's more likely to become pink in the face and to fall asleep than anything. And that isn't the point, is it?
Today, maybe. The young brunette wanders in almost cautiously, looking around as if she could be doing something wrong... or, as if she's checking to see if someone in particular is nearby. When that doesn't happen, she steps inside, but she isn't alone. Another slightly irregular part of her character is that she's often shadowed by a large dog, the mabari Oren who she'd found in one of Wonderland's mythical closets. He pads behind her, happy to be doing exactly what he's doing, sniffing around at all of the many smells that the mansion has to offer. He largely ignores any of the other people in the bar unless they have food to offer... or, unless they seem threatening.
The threat that his master faces is intangible, though. Robyn sits quietly at the bar, eyes scanning the shelf of bottles that are entirely unfamiliar. It's enough to make a little nagging feeling begin in the pit of her stomach as she realizes, once again, how very far from home she is. And, consequentially, how nothing is really "like home" anymore, not after Highever was so thoroughly overrun and everyone within it, everyone she loved, slaughtered.
It isn't long before she slips around the bar to look through the stores, determinedly and without any pleasure in her face seeking a liquid answer to her many questions. ]
ii.
[ Contrary to popular belief, there aren't many answers to be found at the bottom of a glass.
It's many hours later and the newest Grey Warden recruit (at least, in her memory) is fairly inebriated. She's also scowling at a half-empty glass in what might look fairly comical to anyone else who may be nearby. ]
What does it matter what we think's happened if we've got no way of knowing if it's the truth?
[ She says pointedly, now examining a blue-glass bottle very intently. Wonderland had very recently toyed with their memories, switching things around in such a way that no one could really make sense of what it had done to their lives. But, even without the mansion's mysterious influence, she'd had more than enough of hearing about how her own memory - her life - was wrong, mistaken, invalidated. Morrigan had first regarded her with cool contempt. Brennan and Dorian hadn't been anything but polite, but neither of them seemed to be certain if it was, in fact, her when they spoke of "the Warden." Hawke had seemed closer, had remembered her, though, as a man. And Alistair - Maker, the accusations, the distrust-
Oren snores loudly at the foot of her seat, kicking a leg. ]
At least your life is uncomplicated. [ Robyn mutters, but she looks down at him and is awash with self-pity and turns back to her glass. It's practically empty, has just a sip or two of amber liquid, but she finishes it off and hiccups abruptly. ]
I've never had the issue of doubting whether or not I exist before, Oren, [ She says, more quiet now, laying her head down for just a moment on her arm atop the bar ] but I suppose there has to be a first time for everything.
[ As if her life hadn't been complicated enough. ]
Where: The fifth floor bar.
When: Saturday, December 5th.
Rating: PG-13 for language, maybe? Probably just PG, though.
Summary: It's difficult enough when one of your friends doesn't remember you. When more and more people claim you never existed, doubts really begin to bloom.
The Story:
i.
[ Robyn Cousland wanders into the bar in the early evening. It isn't her first visit, but it's the first one where she's entered with the express purpose of finding a drink. This is a little strange, perhaps, given that most people seek out a bar for that exact purpose and for not much else. The Warden isn't one for excessive, or even regular drinks; it isn't a moral thing, but she's more likely to become pink in the face and to fall asleep than anything. And that isn't the point, is it?
Today, maybe. The young brunette wanders in almost cautiously, looking around as if she could be doing something wrong... or, as if she's checking to see if someone in particular is nearby. When that doesn't happen, she steps inside, but she isn't alone. Another slightly irregular part of her character is that she's often shadowed by a large dog, the mabari Oren who she'd found in one of Wonderland's mythical closets. He pads behind her, happy to be doing exactly what he's doing, sniffing around at all of the many smells that the mansion has to offer. He largely ignores any of the other people in the bar unless they have food to offer... or, unless they seem threatening.
The threat that his master faces is intangible, though. Robyn sits quietly at the bar, eyes scanning the shelf of bottles that are entirely unfamiliar. It's enough to make a little nagging feeling begin in the pit of her stomach as she realizes, once again, how very far from home she is. And, consequentially, how nothing is really "like home" anymore, not after Highever was so thoroughly overrun and everyone within it, everyone she loved, slaughtered.
It isn't long before she slips around the bar to look through the stores, determinedly and without any pleasure in her face seeking a liquid answer to her many questions. ]
ii.
[ Contrary to popular belief, there aren't many answers to be found at the bottom of a glass.
It's many hours later and the newest Grey Warden recruit (at least, in her memory) is fairly inebriated. She's also scowling at a half-empty glass in what might look fairly comical to anyone else who may be nearby. ]
What does it matter what we think's happened if we've got no way of knowing if it's the truth?
[ She says pointedly, now examining a blue-glass bottle very intently. Wonderland had very recently toyed with their memories, switching things around in such a way that no one could really make sense of what it had done to their lives. But, even without the mansion's mysterious influence, she'd had more than enough of hearing about how her own memory - her life - was wrong, mistaken, invalidated. Morrigan had first regarded her with cool contempt. Brennan and Dorian hadn't been anything but polite, but neither of them seemed to be certain if it was, in fact, her when they spoke of "the Warden." Hawke had seemed closer, had remembered her, though, as a man. And Alistair - Maker, the accusations, the distrust-
Oren snores loudly at the foot of her seat, kicking a leg. ]
At least your life is uncomplicated. [ Robyn mutters, but she looks down at him and is awash with self-pity and turns back to her glass. It's practically empty, has just a sip or two of amber liquid, but she finishes it off and hiccups abruptly. ]
I've never had the issue of doubting whether or not I exist before, Oren, [ She says, more quiet now, laying her head down for just a moment on her arm atop the bar ] but I suppose there has to be a first time for everything.
[ As if her life hadn't been complicated enough. ]
ii.
Fancy meeting you here. Somehow this doesn't look as though we're celebrating, though. What's wrong, sweet?
no subject
I've been thinking. [ She begins, and her voice wavers, because it's Brennan, the Inquisitor, and now he's seen her blubbering and drunk. She looks away, chewing the inside of her lip, emotion caught in her throat. ] ... What if the last curse, when our memories were changed - what if everything I know and remember still isn't the truth? I was so sure, but after Morrigan didn't remember me, and then Hawke, and -
[ Alistair. She tries very hard to mask the expression, but it's much more difficult when one has been drinking. ]
... And even you and Dorian; you don't know that your 'Hero of Ferelden,' that the Warden I am, is even me, do you? You never said, and I - like a fool, I only just realized.
[ How had she assumed that the three of them came from the same Thedas? Why should that be true, when none of the others, not even her own companions, knew her? ]
no subject
Who decides what is truth? Especially when none of our memories really match up? I mean, Hawke's here, but that's definitely not the Hawke I met back home. That doesn't make him not Hawke, though. He still experienced his life, his memories. They're real, even if they don't match someone else's memories of the same thing.
no subject
[ She'd believed him, not so long ago. That a happy future of having defeated the Archdemon and living happily ever after, like the stories of heroes and stories, with the person she'd had feelings for. Now... someone may be queen to Alistair Theirin's king, and it may even be someone with the name Cousland. But the evidence is mounting, more and more every day; it isn't her. ]
... He's been calling me that, you know. 'Cousland.' [ She begins softly, but there's some of the bite to the name that Alistair had used. Bitterness. Distaste. Both of which peak through the distant way she stares out ahead at the bottles, all line against the wall. ] Well, he did, but I told him off, and now, it's just... 'Warden.'
[ Is that any better? It's not even a name, anymore: just a title. There's a small, humorless laugh as she tightens her grasp around the empty glass. ]
What would you do if Dorian hadn't known you at all? [ Robyn asks, on a whisper, finally turning back to him. ] And then if he looked at you like -
[ Like he hated you. ]
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[ Of course. He could kick himself for not realizing the cause of this sooner and his expression instantly turns contrite and sympathetic. ]
Oh, sweet, I'm sorry. I didn't realize...
He's not your Alistair?
[ Somehow that makes everything seem so much worse and he understands entirely as he reaches out and tugs her close so he can offer her a warm hug. ]
no subject
He's never been my Alistair. [ She says pointedly, and a little ruefully. ] But... no, he doesn't remember me. Like Hawke, his 'Warden' was a man with the family name Cousland. From the way he looked at me, I guessed they don't get on well.
[ Hence, the animosity between Robyn and Alistair that's burst forth just from one meeting. ]
no subject
[ He informs her with a faint smile as he tugs lightly on a lock of her hair as he folds her warmly against his chest. ]
Not your brother then, I take it? Leave it to Wonderland to mess something up like this. Do you think it's the same Warden from Hawke's world instead? This place does have an unpleasant fondness for making this as confusing a jumble as possible.
[ He glances down at her then, his expression sympathetic, because he'd spent just a few days with Dorian not remembering him or anything they'd had together and that had been horrible enough, even with his own memories tampered with as well. But now, for her to have it as the reality... ]
I'm sorry, sweet.
no subject
[ Even if she's beginning to doubt she'll ever come across someone else from Thedas who knows her name, recognizes her face. ]
No, not Fergus. [ That would be more bearable, somehow. ] ... I suppose it could be the same that Hawke spoke of, yes. He didn't know the man personally, though, I don't think, so it would be hard to confirm.
[ It would be an interesting twist, though. Not quite enough to assuage her worries. ]
You've done nothing but help. [ Comes the slightly sullen reply. ] I shouldn't have gotten my expectations up like that, but... I missed them all, I really did, and I couldn't help hoping that one of them might-... Even after Morrigan, I still did.
no subject
There's nothing wrong with hoping that. I don't blame you in the least. Being here is difficult enough without being here alone. Even if you're not... well. You know what I mean.
[ He pauses, studying her face for a moment. ] It sounds like we need to come up with a plan for what you're to do now.
no subject
Now? [ Robyn laughs, surprised, and shakes her head with a little more sway to it than usual. ] Now I... vow to stop giving my family name and title to avoid more awful interactions in the future.
[ There's another laugh, shaky and smaller, and she lays her arms out and settles her chin on them, looking mournfully across the bar. ]
... I could never do that. [ Robyn says finally, with a sigh. ] I wouldn't want to, anyhow.
no subject
[ He watches her with sympathy, stroking a hand against her spine when she slumps against the counter. ]
You're more than just your name and your title, Robyn. You're an amazing person who I count myself fortunate to know. Give him some time, let him get to know the real you, and I'd wager he'll change his mind.
And if he can't do that? Ultimately he is the one losing out. Because somewhere your Alistair is still out there waiting for you, still very much in love with you, and eventually, that's who you will return to.
no subject
[ She laughs weakly, trying to fend him off, face pink with the compliments and the kindness. ]
... You think so? [ Robyn says faintly, mollified, trying not to look as flustered about what he's said than she feels. ] I mean, I know that I'll go back to where I was before; that's what they all say.
[ But, could this Alistair change his opinion? At the very least, as he's said, she'll go back to people who know her. Who care about her.
It's something. ]
... Thank you. [ The Warden says, looking him in the eyes, sitting up again. ] You're incredibly kind, Brennan. I'm grateful that I'll come to know you back in Thedas as well as Wonderland.
no subject
[ Still, his expression turns fond when she straightens up once more and he drapes an arm around her shoulders to tug her into a half-hug. ] I'm nothing of the sort and if I find you've been ruining my fearsome reputation I'l be most displeased. [ He's teasing you, Robyn. ] But you're welcome all the same. And I'm glad of it as well. Now. Are we going to get more drunk or have you had enough?
no subject
[ They've only known each other a few months, and another woman might be flustered by all the contact, but she just smiles despite herself and allows the little embrace to happen. ]
Oh, I may have said a thing or two about it, but there's time enough for you to make a liar of me. [ Robyn leans her head against him, finding herself very tired all of a sudden. ] ... More than enough, I think. And it solved nothing, I'll have you know. Why does everyone act as if it's the answer to any question?
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[ Like embarrassing herself in front of a handful of people. ]
No, I... that's all right. [ Thankfully, she's able to muster up some self control and pushes Alistair from her mind with every fraction of strength that she has left. ] I think I should go to bed, really.
[ And not belabor a point that will have no good ending for her. ]
I can find my way there, don't worry.
no subject
I'm sure you can, but it's no trouble, and I'll sleep better knowing you're safely tucked in. Come on. I'll walk you back. And you've created no new problems for yourself, I assure you. It'll just take a while to puzzle through the ones you already have, I think. Sometimes there's a tangle that nothing but time will unravel.
no subject
... Oh. [ Robyn winces, looking suddenly unwell. ] I... feel much dizzier than I thought I would.
[ "Drunker," Robyn. Much "drunker." ]
Thank you, though. For this, and... for listening.