blessed are they who stand before

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Who: leliana & robyn, leliana & cullen, and leliana & OPEN
Where: around the mansion
When: april 16-20
Rating: pg-13??
Summary: killin' some zombies. and some friends. oops.
The Story:

WITH ONE SWIFT STRIKE HE PIERCED HER HEART ( CLOSED TO ROBYN )

It's hard to keep track of everyone in this chaos. After the first day of running, hiding, and fighting, Leliana mostly gives up on keeping track of everyone she's concerned about. But as the event wears on and she doesn't see certain people, she abandons her crusade of killing as many of these monsters as possible while herding others to safety. Just long enough to track down certain parties.

It's mildly annoying how long it takes her to find Robyn. But any annoyance Leliana feels goes flying straight out the window when she sees the state of her friend. Breath caught in her throat, she rushes over to the small bit of safety Robyn has managed to carve out for herself and reaches out for her. Gloved hands hover over her, not daring to touch her quite yet. Her gaze is locked on the bloody bite on Robyn's arm. She paid attention to the informative posts on the device the day this all started. She knows what that means.

"Merde," she breathes. "How long has it been?"

NOW HER HAND IS RAISED, A SWORD TO PIERCE THE SUN ( CLOSED TO CULLEN )

By midday on the eighteenth, Leliana is beginning to tire. She's been catching naps over the past few days in barricaded rooms, but hasn't had any real, good sleep since all this started. It's not the longest time she's done this--the Arbor Wilds was about three days as well--but exhaustion is slowly creeping up on her. That is how she finds herself caught fighting three runners.

She grits her teeth and curses under her breath, knives flashing. She's angry with herself for letting this happen. She's angry that she's trapped in a place where things like this are relatively normal. And she's downright peeved that she's out of arrows. It makes her strikes a little harder, a little more vicious.

At least until a runner bites her arm. The bite doesn't go through her leather gloves or her chainmail, but it throws off her balance. "Maker!" she reaches out with her other hand, driving her knife into the thing's skull. But another runner comes at her from behind as she does, and she hasn't the time to turn around. Now would be a good time for unexpected back-up.

WHERE THEY TOUCHED THE EARTH, TWISTED DARKNESS GREW ( OPEN )

The first days are mostly spent fighting. Leliana prowls the halls of the mansion, looking for those cornered by the monsters or trying to get to safety. When she needs to, she breaks for food and rest, usually barricading herself in a room and sleeping with her knives on her lap. It's dangerous. But better that than fumble for them if she gets woken by the creatures.

As the days drag on, it gets harder to focus. Dark circles appear under her eyes and her armor is stained with viscera--some fresh, some old. By day four she's less concerned about helping other people and more concerned about getting out of this alive. Oh, she'll lend a hand if she sees someone in a bad situation, but she's more likely to greet strangers with a suspicious look and a question about infection than anything else.

This is worse than the Deep Roads, really. And she hated the Deep Roads.

Comments

18th

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Anders would have thought living in a grand, fully-functional mansion in the middle of a monster infestation would make things more bearable. Funnily enough, being attacked by every screaming banshee that looks his way still sucks even with indoor plumbing.

Evenings are by far the worst. When it gets dark, it's too dangerous to turn on lights for those zombies still hunting by sight and all night long he has to listen to their grunting and wailing unless he feels like spending the energy on a muting spell.

Augh. But hey, at least there are pillows and porcelain toilets.

He meets Leliana quite by accident when he's heading upstairs to retreat to a room for the night. Finding a runner in his way, he tries to be quick about dispatching it before it can give away his position, stunning it to squelch its shouts and then lighting it aflame. In the burst of orange light that follows the final spell, he thinks he sees another looming in the shadows--but the figure doesn't attack.

He's developed a new policy since this all started. If it doesn't immediately let out an uncanny screech like a dying dracolisk, it's probably human. Probably.

"Evening."

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From her place in the shadows, Leliana looks Anders over. Not seeing any signs of bites or anything she would associate with turning (which, admittedly, is based on her experiences with darkspawn and little else) she steps forward and gives him a wan smile.

"Ser Silly Mage Hat."

She remembers him now. From Kirkwall, when she was there investigating things for Justinia. But this Anders looks younger, less harried than he had then. At this point, she's more inclined to question that later. Too much chaos to worry about whether he has or hasn't blown up a chantry yet.

"You seem to be doing well for yourself."

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It takes him a second to tie together the face, the accent, and the ridiculous nickname. He laughs despite himself. "You remembered."

Not him, but the silly name she'd given him back before she'd taken some cats off of his hands. He'd almost forgotten it himself until now.

"You don't know how glad I am it's you and not another one of these things." They are annoying when they attack in numbers. "I've been lucky so far with some spells to ward off spores and narrowly avoiding a few close calls. How about you? Where are you headed at this time? I was about to collect my cats and take a moment to rest. We could go together. Safer that way."

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She tilts her head in acknowledgement. Details and little moments like that are things she hoards. One never knows when they might come in handy--like now, when they could use a little levity in the midst of this terrible event.

Leliana mulls over her answer for a moment, debating whether she should lie and continue on her own, or trust him. This man who may one day go on to do a terrible thing that she can't even begin to condone.

"I was looking for a place to rest," she says finally. "And perhaps something to eat. It's--been a long day." Which is quite possibly the understatement of the century.

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"You can say that again. It feels as though they're growing in number every hour." He casts a look left and right as if expecting one or two to burst out of a room, summoned by their talking about them. At least when fighting darkspawn he knew he was immune to their taint.

"I went out this morning to see if the vegetable garden was still intact--that was a hairy hour, let me tell you. But I made away with a bit of spring harvest. Provided it's still there, I stashed it and some other food in a room. I'm willing to share."

It'd be beyond ironic if they had to go hungry while living in a rich place like this, not to mention ridiculous.

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Leliana's stomach gurgles, which is really answer enough. She frowns down at herself for a moment--her body's not supposed to obviously betray her like this--but sighs and nods.

"Fresh food sounds wonderful. Thank you." She gives a little bow and gestures with one arm down the hall. "After you, ser."

She may have chosen to trust him for now, but her (understandable, given her occupation) paranoia won't let her turn her back on him. Especially not when she's fatigued and hungry.

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Do his ears betray him or had that been... a tummy rumble?

"Oh, was that you? I was worried that growl was another monster sneaking up on us," he jests. Which isn't... that far out of the realm of possibility when some of these zombies have been lying in wait to attack the first person that crosses his path. So maybe not that funny.

Some light banter, at least, helps burn some of the tension out of him. His tone remains light as he turns to head up the stairs, speaking over his shoulder. "And just Anders will do. I feel like living and fighting in a magical realm together puts us on a first name basis."

And he's no "ser," besides. Just a mage. A badly behaved mage if one believes the stories about the future, for that matter.

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"Leliana," she offers in exchange, following Anders up the stairs. She watches him for any reaction to her name. It might help her figure out just what time it is he's come from.

(Maker, this alternate times and world business gives her a headache.)

"What all did you manage to pick from the garden?" she asks. Both to keep conversation flowing and because she's genuinely curious as to what will grow here in Wonderland.

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"Leliana?" Surprised, he pauses and turns. "Hey, I know that name."

It whisks him back to Thedas, and Ferelden, and passing storytellers recounting deeds done by the Hero of Ferelden and his noble company. There'd been Alistair the bastard-prince-made-Warden, Morrigan the apostate Witch of the Wilds... and Wynne, of course. And another... another that had definitely gone by that name.

'L'. Leliana. Maybe he should start assuming that everyone who comes from Thedas is famous in some fashion or another, it appears to be a pattern.

He's forgotten to answer her question by the time he opens his mouth again. "Are you that Leliana? From the Hero of Ferelden's party? Way to bury the lead."

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"I am."

And that answers that question. Anything more specific about his point in the timeline can wait until they're not, y'know, in danger of being attacked by formerly human monsters at any given moment.

"You were saying something about what you got from the garden, no?" she reminds gently, trying to get them back on track.

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Hadn't he also heard something about a Leliana being named the Divine's Left Hand and taking up a role in the Inquisition, freshly dug up from its grave in history and dusted off? Is that how she'd known so much about this Corypheus? Maker's breath, the plot keeps thickening. Soon it'll be as thick as glue.

"You really are a woman full of surprises," he observes. He looks at her a moment longer before shaking it off and swivelling his gaze back to the front.

If the lady wants to talk about food, they can talk about food. Unless she's about to stab him in the kidney right now in retaliation for defiling one of the Divine's blessed holy houses, he'll file this bit of information away as 'things to ponders when not in imminent danger of death'.

"Yes, as for what I harvested, it isn't much given the time of year, but you can have your pick of some carrots and asparagus. I found some peas, greens, and spring onions that were fairly ripe before I left, too. I could have a real career as a vegetable thief."

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Any and all kidney stabbing will happen after he's actually blown up said holy houses. And probably not for blowing up the chantry but more for fucking up Kirkwall. ... Leliana is not exactly your typical ex-sister. Which is probably a good thing.

"Carrots and peas sound lovely." Anything fresh and not provided by Wonderland directly sounds lovely. But those especially.

As if sensing earlier talk about who Leliana is and her reputation, her treacherous stomach growls again, slowly peeling away layers of her dignity. She presses a hand to her stomach and, with a small sigh and a frown asks, "I don't suppose we're near our destination?"

Someone may have forgotten to eat breakfast today.

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"We're close." The higher they climb, the more hushed he becomes. Nice as it is to hold a conversation with someone capable of more than just spitting and screaming, he doesn't relish the thought of drawing unwanted attention so near his safe room.

Another flight of stairs, then Anders leads them into the main corridor. His destination is an unmarked door, indistinguishable from the infinite number of other unoccupied rooms by the naked eye. But beyond the naked eye the space around the door buzzes with the presence of magic, signalling wards. "Here we are. I spelled it shut just to be safe. Would you be so kind to keep an eye out while I take down the wards?"

It takes less than a minute to undo his work, the last of it unravelling with a brief flare of light. Taking the doorknob in hand, he opens the door, and smiles sidelong at Leliana to say 'ladies first'. "You're welcome to what I have. There's no telling how long these things plan on sticking around and we'll need our strength."

The room itself is one of the mansion's typical unused rooms, bare and undecorated. Anders' pack and a smaller supply bag rest against the wall. The bathroom door is closed, but at the sound of their voices Leliana might be able to pick up a faint mewing from behind it.

"My cats," he explains. "I didn't want to take any chances with them."