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. ]