( closed ) you've got the story all made up inside your head

[heroica]

Who: Warden Robyn Cousland and Commander Cullen Rutherford
Where: The first floor "armory"
When: Tuesday, January 19th
Rating: PG-13 for language (probably)
Summary: "You have to kill them all to be safe," he'd said. It was a decade ago for him and only months for her.
The Story:

[ There is a new room on the first floor.

Thankfully, the mansion has gone back to normal after its rainy, dangerous weekend in the woods. Though she'd herself insisted that she spend her first night in Wonderland out among the trees (to which the Inquisitor had objected), this 'event' had been almost fatal for the Warden. Robyn had gone out, thinking there was someone in need of help in the foreign forest, and almost wasted away at the base of one of the traitorous trunks. If the Courier hadn't found her-... but, he had, and she'd lived. Not everyone could say the same.

It's a relief to be out of the rain and the peril, then, because Wonderland's mansion is at least the devil she (thinks she) knows. Robyn lays a hand on the head of the dog at her side, removing it to swiftly braid it around her crown, when she hears the noise. Having been on her way to the kitchen, the Warden slows to a halt, peering curiously at a door she hadn't noticed before. Inside is, unmistakably, the sound of clanging metal, as if someone's stashed away weapons and armor within.

Have they finally built an armory? The brunette peers at Oren the mabari, who tilts his head in mirrored question. ]

Well, you aren't very much help. [ At the very least, she could take a look around as if there's anything to be had there that she couldn't get for herself from the closets. And it isn't someone's room, anyway, so it isn't as if she's just nicking other people's stuff. Because that never happens. So, briskly, the young Warden pushes open the door, glancing around, and the room is occupied.

Occupied by someone who probably should have locked the door, at least. It is an armory, to some degree, but there's also a man standing in the middle of it all stripped down to his breeches and moving to continue changing into, she guesses, some of the armor that's been strewn about. ]

Ah- Wait! [ Oren barks, as if trying to alert the stranger to not remove his pants, and trots over to the half-dressed man. Robyn, however, turns on her heel and shuts the door behind her with a snap. ]

Sweet Andraste. [ She sighs, exasperated, pressing her back to the door. Where do these people come from? ]

Comments

[heroica]

[ He doesn't give up the blade, not that she'd really expected him too, but neither does she take her hand from her (admittedly smaller) one. Oren, at her side, continues to make quietly displeased noises, perhaps disappointed that the other Ferelden isn't a very good egg. ]

You remember another Inquisitor, you said? A woman? [ It's almost funny, almost, but not, because now three of their number have been confused for similar people of the other gender. ] And, if I can guess... the Grey Warden you met at Kinloch was a man called Aedan Cousland?

[ If so, that would be three for Aedan, the cold-hearted Warden that both Alistair and Hawke remembered. ]

Brennan Trevelyan is the Inquisitor, but from another version of Thedas. One similar, but with a number of changes. Just as I am Warden Cousland, who met you in the Tower, who could tell you every detail of that meeting.

[ It had been fairly striking, after all. ]

Dorian Pavus, who you may know, remembers Brennan as the Inquisitor, but they remember a woman called Marian Hawke.

[ Is it worth explaining? There's less than a single percent chance that he'll believe her; she knows he's stubborn, at least. ]

This place - Wonderland - has strong magic. Enough to take us from vastly different worlds.

[morework]

[ That... certainly is a way. A short laugh escapes him, incredulous and devoid of mirth. Remember another Inquisitor. He almost stops her right there, almost, for speaking of the Herald as some manner of quirk, which might distort itself through recollections and time. He does not remember, but there is. Not another, but one, the one.

But she speaks on, and Cullen frowns. Aedan was indeed the man he knew, however briefly, yet such is hardly an impressive guess. Brennan Trevelyan is a stranger, save for the connections to Ostwick which the name invokes. A good name to please at least the local Chantry there, is that why it was evoked for this charade?

He balks at the words she uses so casually, at every detail of that meeting. Things etched into his mind like fire, things he can barely force past his lips. Few others are privy to even a glimpse, and if she thinks such knowledge would endear him to her or her story, then she is sorely mistaken. If she thinks he would be cowed by what she might drag from his past, then she is as well.

But there she moves on again, more names, convoluted. Marian Hawke, who is not his Champion, nor a close relation. A sister, dead, but not by that name. Carver mentioned. And finally she speaks no more.

Cullen would wonder if she might speak the truth, but where to begin? Another approach then: What could she possibly gain from such a lie? Not his trust, that much is certain. A story he can barely comprehend and scarcely believe. If it is a trick, then it is a poor one. If it is a game, then he doesn't know why or how it is player, let alone to what end.

And if it is the truth... ]

Different worlds. Different... versions of Thedas, events which change from one timeline to another? And they all bleed into each other here, is that your explanation?

[ A beat. ]

And if you are what Aedan Cousland was, how are you still alive?

[heroica]

[ Brennan had assured her that the Cullen who worked with the Inquisition was a changed man, but all she sees and hears in him is the man from the Circle Tower. Even freed, he'd pleaded with Knight-Commander Greagoir to kill the mages anyway, after what he'd seen them do. She had fought enough desperate Circle mages to know that they were dangerous, but a slaughter without distinguishing between the innocent and the guilty had seemed manic. Luckily, Greagoir hadn't agreed... but that same, young templar is here, scoffing at her, eyes sharp and gaze hard.

She steels herself, too, feeling a kind of anger that she hasn't succumbed to since her arrival in Wonderland. ]

That is the truth. [ Robyn insists, jaw set tight. ] You can ask any of the others and they'll say the same.

[ He surely will, and then, she suspects, he'll come up with another reason to brush away their explanations. The Warden is about to continue, to press her point, but she falls short with her mouth just opened, blind-sided by what he says next, confusion rapidly overtaking her. ]

- What? [ The question is unnerving, to say the least, and she physically withdraws, shoulders tensing at her sides. ] Why would I not be alive? Last the Inquisitor told me, I was-... in the Deep Roads.

[ "Searching for a cure," she almost says, but doesn't. If he knows, then he knows, but she isn't about to share Warden secrets with him.

It isn't very reassuring, but she thinks to around mid-winter, to when she'd seen visions of her past, present, and... future. The darkness of the Deep Roads had seemed to swallow the woman who was her, alone in the caves. She had been older and worn down, certainly, but alive.

Different versions of Thedas. Her hear thrums. ]

[morework]

[ ...The treaties of Orzammar? No, if the Inquisitor- if that Inquisitor claimed to know, then it must have been later. To her Calling? Or disappeared as the other Wardens did? No. No, he has it all wrong, there is no sense in such thoughts, let alone the questions they lead to.

Cullen waves her off. ]

--You are not him, no matter what you claim. I should not presume that you would share his fate.

[ His fist clenches, reassuring him of the hilt within his grasp. This is madness, all of it, but is it falsehood? No pleasing lie, no compelling tale: If there is an angle to this deception, then he cannot see it. And if there is as much truth to it as she claims-- ]

All you've told me, how is it- how is any of it possible? Who would have cause to involve us in this, and why?

[heroica]

No, I am not 'him.' [ The way he says it sends a fire shooting up through her blood and she clenches her fists, already fed up with the conversation. It isn't the first, second, third, or even fifth time that she's heard who she is, or isn't, and it's finally beginning to wear at the usually-light-hearted young woman. The Warden looks fairly sour as she shakes her head, biting back snappy retorts and comments in a last-ditch effort to explain. ] But I am Warden Cousland.

[ Void take anyone who said otherwise. She won't question herself anymore. ]

In Wonderland? [ Or in the mingled array of Thedases? She scoffs faintly, again shaking her head, as if this will drive away the negativity and bitterness that bites at her like mosquitoes. ] They say a Queen, or Duchess, or both has brought us here. They also say that the mansion itself holds power. I haven't been here for long enough to say for sure, but I think you would have some trouble finding anyone who would claim to know the whole truth.

[morework]

[ It raises questions, many of them. A world in which another Cousland survived in Aedan's place? Where does that leave Ferelden, and all he's done for it? It raises questions, many of them, but the most pressing can still only be this: How to get away from it all? He disregards her anger for that purpose. ]

--A Duchess? But not Florianne? [ Sweet Andraste, that would be one frightfully elaborate back-up plan for a recently deceased woman. ] Where can I find either of them?

[heroica]

Not Floiranne. [ As if things aren't bad enough without Orlais involved. ] And you can't find them, not unless they want you to. They're very sparse in their appearances and are very fond of riddles.

[ More like spirits or demons than humans, really. ]

[morework]

Riddles, [ he repeats scornfully, because of course riddles are exactly what this nightmare was still missing. How very good to know.

He debates another question, but truthfully there is something else he must discover first. No amount of answers will serve him before he knows more about the one who gives them.

Cullen looks pointedly to the door, and back at the woman who stands between him and it. ]

You say there are others from Thedas who would confirm what you say. If I would seek them out, will you let me pass?

[ Without battle, he hardly needs to clarify. Because try to pass he will. ]

[heroica]

[ She doesn't want to. She thinks of Dorian and of Mystique, of people who could be hurt even if he doesn't intend it, if only because the mansion's magic can change what people see. The fear of it twists at her stomach and, for a moment, she holds her ground, peering at the ex-templar with a sharp and calculating gaze. ]

If I have it on your honor that you won't go attacking the people here without cause. [ Robyn says, finally. Oren pants heavily, looking between his master and the other, bigger Ferelden. ]

[morework]

[ An excuse can be called a cause too quickly, Cullen knows. It makes the phrase precarious, and he would sooner give his word instead. Normally. He trusts everything else here too little to honour such details now. ]

Not without cause, [ he repeats, as much promise as it is warning.

Then he takes his first step towards the door. ]

[heroica]

[ She doesn't like his answer and is briefly torn between wanting to try and stop the man to demand he swear it without that tone and not wanting to incite a fight. The Warden sets her jaw, thinking maybe it would be enough to just strike Cullen across the face, but she eventually manages to move her stiffened legs to allow him to pass. All the same, Robyn stares hard at him as he does so and then leaves, watching him like a hawk, her own silence heavy with distrust. ]