☼ Arrival; ☼

[ladysunshines]

Who: Bethany Hawke and [open]
Where: Outside the caves!
When: Now...ish?
Rating: PG-13 for now!
Summary: Yass queen

The Story: Her head was swimming. The battle with Orsino had taken nearly all her magical power, but it was more than that -- seeing him use blood magic to take the corpses of all the mages that she’d known living and working in the circle to turn himself into an abomination -- it was too much. Too much on top of the templars and countless innocent people who had no doubt been killed when the Chantry had been obliterated. Her heart ached as if her mother and brother had died all over again. So much senseless violence because of Meredith, because of the extremist templars -- she squeezed her eyes shut and when they opened again, she was surrounded by a cave of brick icicles. What fresh hell was this?

“Garrett!” Her voice echoed hollowly in the cave and she spun, panicked. “Garrett!” What if this is some sort of last-ditch effort that Orsino learned from that horrible beast, Quentin? Was she going to be trapped in some sort of labyrinth for the rest of her (probably very short, very painful) life? She scanned the room and let out a sob of relief at the sight of the entrance to the cave, scrambling up the incline with little care for whether she was letting the barbs of once-molten stone bite into her skirts. She rushed toward the point of light, awkwardly using her staff to half-vault her toward the ever-growing gleam.

Blissfully, the Circle-mandated wear was spelled to be durable and once she made it to the sunlight, she skidded to a stop and took in her surroundings, staff at the ready.
“Show yourself!” There had to be someone here, there had to be some meaning of this that could be explained. The pain in her heart was too fresh for this to be heaven, and she had been to the Fade -- this was not it. Impatient at the lack of an answer, she slammed her staff down on the ground. A bolt of flame shoots from the spot it hits, landing nearby in an explosion of sparks.

“I don’t have time for this!” She needed to find her brother, because nothing about this place made any sense.

Comments

[morework]

He'd been slowly shaking off the event's aftermath, in part. A clean shave and a few moments spent on his hair, if only to brace himself for any further unannounced visitors. The bags under his eyes still linger, as does the restlessness which gives his skin a near ashen tone in the sunlight. But in the sunlight he is, the work in his room completed one way or another.

And for all the areas which Wonderland renders inaccessible to them, there must still be many he has left unexplored, despite the means to do otherwise. He heads for the area near the vendors that day, and turns sharply at the commotion at his back. At the magic in use, which jolts him awake.

He shrugs the shield off of his back, and approaches with a hand around his sword. Never gets to assess whether he ought to draw it yet, because he finds the culprit first: None of the mages he knows to be here. Not quite a complete stranger at all. (And nobody else in sight, but the frustration on her features strikes a familiar chord, so the sparks--)

"Calm down," he manages to say, while his eyes dart over her- Circle robes? Kirkwall Circle robes? Maker, what is going on here? "I can explain where you are."

Poorly. While he would rather ask a million questions instead.

[ladysunshines]

The familiar voice catches her off-guard. It's hard to forget the sound of the voice belonging to the man who brought you to the Circle after years of being an apostate.

Still, Cullen hadn't been needlessly rude, nor violent - he'd been doing his job as a templar - and she didn't hold his actions against him. The fact was, though, that the templars seemed to still be under Knight-Commander Meredith's command, and with the Right of Annulment being active...

"Calm down?" She doesn't lower her staff, not when she sees him with his hand on her sword. "My brother just stopped the Knight-Commander from executing me, and the rest of Kirkwall is in chaos --" she shakes her head, as if trying to reconcile the current setting with that particular chain of thought, "-- and now this?

I don't know that I can calm down." She at least hasn't shot any more fireballs at him yet, so that's -- some improvement.

[morework]

Kirkwall Circle robes. Is that where the passing familiarity comes from? A mage, one whose face he remembers barely, and whose name not at all? His stomach clenches. Negligence? Someone from another world, or someone who was taken from his mind? He cannot discount any of that anymore.

--Enough that he should feel so ill at ease. He catches the movement of her eyes. If their worlds have any common ground at all, then it is hardly difficult to imagine what she fears. Cullen keeps the shield at his side, but he lifts his other hand, away from his blade.

"We're not in Kirkwall anymore. Meredith is not here, and I mean you no harm."

Say more? Not yet. He waits.

[ladysunshines]

Not in Kirkwall anymore. She doesn't know what to make of that statement, but the second and third -- well. Her staff drops to its neutral position, the weight of it supporting any swaying that she might be tempted to do.

"I see," she says after a moment, trying very hard to process his words. "Then if you say you mean me no harm, Ser Cullen, I believe you." And frankly -- well, she was glad to hear it. With all the bloodshed she'd seen in the past few minutes, mage and templar alike, she wasn't eager to add to either side's tide.

"But if this is indeed not Kirkwall, I -- may need a little more explanation."

[morework]

Her posture eases. His stiffens at the mention of his own name, but he shoulders his shield all the same. For better or worse that one is not an issue his weapons can combat.

"Thank you," he remembers to say.

(With no other weapon at their disposal which can? Worse. Much worse.)

"This is- the name that was given to me is Wonderland. I myself only came here two months ago; there are people better equipped to speak about it from experience, but I will fill as many gaps as I can."

As efficiently as bags of sand might have closed the Breach, he should imagine.

"I said came here, but so far none I know of had much choice in the matter of their arrival. One moment they went about their business in a place familiar to them, the next they were here."

That much she can already attest to now, personally. The trouble begins where all their knowledge ends.

"Whoever or whatever is behind these abductions we cannot say, nor what purpose they're meant to serve. The magic which brought and binds us here, it goes beyond anything we've experienced - or even heard of, for that matter."

It sounds as grave as it ought to be, but there is a lot more to come, and Cullen remembers to leave room to breathe.

"This is not a safe place, but we're in no immediate danger at the time."

[scowls]

Someone's shouting. Fenris hears the woman's voice from the gardens, where he's currently taking a pleasant walk. He pauses when he hears her, taking in the tone of her distress, then moves toward the sound at a rapid clip.

His greatsword is back in his quarters, but he hardly has need of it here. Whatever it is that attacks her, Fenris is quite confident that he can kill it with his bare hands. He gathers himself, ready to activate the lyrium for battle. Yet when he rounds the last hedge and can see the scene, he finds that his preparations are for naught.

There are no monsters or miscreants attacking a helpless woman. There is only a mage, panicked, perhaps, or angry. He recognizes the robes as similar to what he'd seen in Kirkwall so many years ago. He recognizes the staff in her hands. Beneath his skin, the lyrium flickers briefly, the glow dim and uncertain. Does he attack? Does he speak to her? Is she a blood mage? He has no way of knowing.

"This is not Kirkwall," he decides to speak instead of act, though he remains poised on the balls of his feet just in case. "If you are willing to listen, I will try to explain."

[ladysunshines]

Bethany may have an advantage over Fenris. While the sight of the lyrium tattoos might have startled most other people, the sight of them -- and the elf that they're attached to -- actually makes her shoulders relax noticeably. The staff is moved easily from its offensive position to its place in her sling, and she immediately searches Fenris' face with her eyes, brows furrowed.

"Fenris," she starts, deciding against moving much closer to him than she is already (she knows he isn't exactly a fan of people invading his personal space), "How is it that that's possible?" She's never heard of a travelling spell, and she thinks she'd certainly remember if they'd left Kirkwall in the middle of the madness going on. His lack of greatsword is certainly puzzling, and she can't help but wonder if this isn't just some sort of elaborate illusion. She crosses her arms over her chest, though, and nods.

"Please, go ahead." She tries to let neither the anxiety nor concern leak too much into her voice. It wouldn't do to panic further, would it?

[scowls]

It isn't often that he witnesses a stranger relax upon seeing him. Though that little mystery is solved before it can take hold of him when she says his name. Fenris' brows furrow and he frowns slightly, more than a little confused now.

Is it possible that word of who he is has reached the Gallows? He knows Varric put him in a book, but this woman doesn't look like a haggard apostate wearing the same worn robes from when she fled the Circle. If she has come from Kirkwall as he remembers it, then the book hasn't been written yet. He wants to ask, but as her situation seems more pressing, he decides to attend to it first.

"There is a world called Wonderland," his lip curls as he says the word, clearly finding no wonder in it. "Magic exists here in abundance. It is that which brought you here. As it has brought others from Kirkwall." A normal man would stop here. Fenris just continues on. "I cannot claim that this world is free of danger, but I can say that there is no immediate thread to you now."

[ladysunshines]

Given that Fenris' default state of being is that mild furrow-and-frown, Bethany doesn't think too hard on it. His words hold much more interest to her for the moment, and she's frankly glad for the extra information that Fenris can provide about the lack of immediate threats ... even if she isn't entirely certain she should believe it. She tightens her own arms about herself, the pressure enough of a distraction to calm down her anxieties just a little.

Fenris has no reason to lie to her, she reasons, and there's something else that he says which catches her attention more than the idea of a place of abundant magic that isn't the Fade.

"Others from Kirkwall?" She steps forward at this point, still too wound-up to properly restrain herself entirely. "Who else has found themselves in this place? Garrett, Isabela...?" She finds herself studying his face again, eager to find out the answer.

[scowls]

Tension coils through him as she steps forward, his body instinctively preparing for an attack. He doesn't move, doesn't take his eyes off of her, but he is ready, the power of the lyrium thrumming beneath his skin, waiting to be activated.

And with so few words, she steals it from him. Garrett. Isabela. Fenris doesn't know the former but for a few words they've exchanged since his arrival, but he does know the latter. One version of her, anyway.

"Yes, if you refer to a Garrett Hawke." A note of uncertainty enters his voice when he says the name, though he doesn't linger upon it. "Isabela is here as well. Along with Anders and Carver. If there are others, I've not yet found them, though there are others from Thedas."

[shitloaf]

Things have been... progressing really strangely. Not that it's any surprise, really. This entire place is strange and everyone being from different places is strange. He's trying to just keep going, keep moving forward and find his way back home. It may not be the most stellar life in Thedas, but it's his and it's familiar and... Well, someone has to live his life. He's already familiar with the ins and outs of his daily schedule, so it might as well be him.

Since his arrival, he's been avoiding mostly everyone when he can. Except for giving Fenris reading and writing lessons and trying to make a bid at having some sort of friendship with Alistair. And trying not to throttle Anders—which is turning out to be harder than teaching an illiterate elf. But, so far so good—on both fronts. Lastly, he's taken to spending time by himself to think and that's not turning out so well. Usually, he goes outside to meander the grounds just to get some fresh air and not have to feel so closed in while inside.

Which is what he's doing now. He left Bethy inside—and he'll dread to see what she's gotten into this time when he gets back—and just came out by himself. Most days have him feeling particularly morose, though he hides it under a thick veil of anger and annoyance. When he rounds the corner, it's the voice that hits him first, slamming into him like a charging druffalo. Carver's breath is stolen and his whole world narrows down to one point. It's a voice he'd recognize anywhere, one he still hears sometimes when it's nightmares of another sort that bother him. He feels as if his whole entire world has shifted and he can't find proper footing. So he stumbles slightly, nearly catching himself on fire from those sparks but he doesn't care.

He doesn't care because Bethany is standing right there. She's alive and whole and hale and Carver has no idea what to do for several heart-stopping moments. Carver would never claim himself a weak man, in fact he'd fight the very insinuation. But, he feels it right now. He can't breathe properly, his insides are shaking, and there's a lump in his throat the size of Ferelden itself. The last person he ever expected to see again and here she is. His heart throbs so painfully but already it feels as if it's mending, making itself whole again just from the sound of her voice.

"Bethany—" his voice is too low, rasped and choked off. Maker he needs to get a hold of himself. He tries again, this time propelling himself forward with the speed of a man on a mission. "Bethany!"

And, hopefully, she's prepared because he's going in for a hug so tight not even a crowbar could pry him off.

[ladysunshines]

Things happen too quickly for her to properly process exactly what it is that's going on. She knows that she heard her name called a few moments ago almost too softly to be heard, and then again -- more certain, and more importantly -- more familiar. Carver's voice is enough of a shock to her system to override her immediate survival instincts as his body comes barreling towards her, as his arms wrap around her tight enough to constrict her breathing. She drops her staff straight out, the wood clattering to the ground noisily.

It isn't the strength of his arms around her that catches her breath in her throat. It's the solidness of the body pressed against her, the fact that the pressure against her doesn't evaporate like water when she blinks her eyes. She'd sworn that she'd seen Carver in the crowds during their first few years in Kirkwall, and even late at night in the Circle tower, but...this is different. When she blinks again, it's to keep the tears that are filling her eyes from blurring her vision. She shakes her body loose of the stiffness that had developed when he'd first hugged her and leans her head down to rest against his shoulder.

"Carver," she says finally, squeezing her eyes shut, "What's going on?" She doesn't bother to hide the confusion from her voice, for her brother -- her twin -- would always know. Part of her annoyance with him had always been her inability to tell him lies. Her hands find the front of his shirt, grasping desperately for something solid to hold on to.

"Are we dead?"

[shitloaf]

A breath chokes in his throat, expelling harshly halfway and hiccuped on the other half. Carver Hawke is a man of fastidious pride. Carver Hawke is also a man full of hurt manifested into anger. Carver Hawke hasn't shed a tear in many years. That all but breaks the moment Bethany relaxes against him and lays her head against his shoulder. He'll deny it ever happened and it's a secret that's only shared with the soft brush of her hair against his face as he doesn't even hesitate one second before turning into her. She smells like his sister; like summers in Lothering, like wheat and fresh bread. She smells like home and Carver's world slides firmly into place.

There hasn't been a day that's gone by that he hasn't missed her, not one that he hasn't thought of her. Seeing Bethany now brings back that day they fled Lothering like it was only yesterday not twelve years ago.

There's so much to say, so much he needs to say and so much he should say. But, after his time here so far, he doesn't want to talk about any of it. Not yet. Not yet. He wants to be selfish and exist within this little bubble with just his sister and not face anything else. But, that's not fair to Bethany, she needs to know what's going on and more than anything Carver wants to know about her, what sort of life she lived—so fucking thankful that some world out there exists where she's alive. He'd give his own in the place of hers. It doesn't yet occur to him just yet that things may have gone differently when they left their home.

Carver grips her tighter for a split second when she asks that. Something in him feels as if it breaks and he can feel the words bubbling in the back of his throat to say something stupid—because even after all these years, he's not fully grown out of the foot-in-mouth disease—like 'No, just you' or something equally terrible. Instead, thankfully, he exhales a shaky sounding laugh that's borderline hysterical.

"No." At least he doesn't think so. He hopes not. "No, we're in some weird place called Wonderland."

But that literally doesn't matter. Carver pulls back just enough to see her face. Unable to stop himself, he lifts one hand up and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. He's not crying but it's quite obvious he really wants to—that's embarrassing, but he's going to keep it together and just be red in the face. "Maker, Bethany. It's good to see you. I never thought I would again."

[ladysunshines]

She knows that it always appeared to the others that her father had favored her. She knew the truth, of course - that her father was the only one of them that truly knew what she felt about her magic, the only one she'd told outright about it. It terrified her, being a mage -- the idea that she could lose control and let an abomination ruin her life. At the same time that she'd feared being a mage, she'd also feared how her mother would react to her living in a Circle -- she'd coped with it well enough once Bethany had been taken in Kirkwall, of course, but if she'd surrendered willingly -- she wasn't sure that her mother would've survived it.

Hugging Carver had always felt like a bigger triumph than hugging Garrett, at least when he leaned into it like he did now. Always the tough, strong exterior -- less prone to outbursts than their older sibling, and too proud to be 'soft' in front of many people. She's planning to milk this hug as long as Carver will possibly allow it, since it's the last thing she ever expected to be able to do again.

Just listening to his breathing is good enough for now, confirming to her yet again that he isn't just an illusion conjured out of nothing. As he pulls back, she keeps one hand firmly fisted in his shirt - he isn't getting away that easily - and meets his eyes. They're as glassy as hers, and like they always were - like looking into a mirror with a different frame.

They aren't dead, and yet Carver looks -- older, she thinks, something puzzling. His sentiment easily pushes that thought aside, though, and she nods as she brings her hand up to rest against the one on her cheek, closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself.

"I know," she says quietly. There are too many eager questions on her tongue, but there's only one that she needs to know the answer to immediately.

"Wonderland. Is -- is it safe, here?"

[shitloaf]

Well, he's not going anywhere. After the sort of life he's had, there's really no chance in the Void that he's going to let Bethany go. Eventually he'll calm down and not be a constant shadow and/or some very large Fereldan barnacle. But this is still too new, too fresh, and he doesn't want to let her go. Part of his is afraid that if he does, she'll disappear like she has so often in his dreams. He's learned a thing or two over the course of his losses—to hold on to what he cares for and try and let people know that. The years have softened certain edges of his.

His hand comes up to cover Bethany's there, giving it a little squeeze. It's left there to hold it, not really fussed to remove her at all. The closer they are, the easier his heart begins to mend. He does glance to the side for a brief moment, not really having a good answer to give.

"I don't know. I haven't been here that long, but I've heard things." He swallows thickly as he looks back at Bethany. "Things are strange here. There are... people from home here that don't remember the same things I do, or have different people in them."

Without meaning to, he holds her tighter. The smile he give shakes. "I'm just glad you know who I am."

[outofthebreach]

Typically, yelling outside the manor was a good way to catch a passerby's attention.

Failing that, the fire would certainly do the trick.

Brennan had been heading back from a morning walk when he heard the shouts and then heard the familiar sound of a spell nearby. Breaking into a run, he rounds the corner of the house to spot the source, a dark-haired young woman looking more than put out with... something. She's dressed in Circle robes vaguely familiar to him - not Ostwick's. Kirkwall, maybe? Starkhaven?

He holds up his hands in a nonthreatening manner as he comes to a stop a few feet away, catching the last of her exclamations as she does so.

"I'm afraid that's not entirely true, my lady. If you wouldn't mind calming down a moment, we can try and see if we can get you sorted, yes?"

[ladysunshines]

He isn't dressed like a templar or a mage, which actually puts her at ease at this point. Bethany likes to think she can be reasonable except on the rare occasions where he emotions get the better of her, and the fact that he's addressing her with respect and not complete and utter terror bodes well. She takes a deep breath, lowering the staff to a neutral position as he approaches with his hands held up.

"How can it not be true?" She sounds impatient, if restrained. "The chantry is in ruins, and the templars are out of control." Her hand tightens its grip on her staff. "And the First Enchanter..." she swallows the rising bile in her throat and grimaces at the bitter taste, shaking her head. "I need to find my brother." Surely Garrett would know what to do.

He always did, didn't he? Her brother might've been hard-headed and brash, but he'd always had her best interests at heart.

[outofthebreach]

"The Chantry?" he echoes for a moment and suddenly it all clicks, her robes and what she's most likely upset about.

"Maker," he straightens up in surprise. "You're from Kirkwall?"

Well, that's... a bit of a pickle, isn't it?

He takes a step closer again, one hand outstretched to her. "Look, there's an explanation for this - not a very good one or one that makes much sense, but you're not currently in any danger here. Look around you. You're not in Kirkwall right now. You're not even in the Free Marches, I'm afraid. There's no immediate threat here. My name is Brennan, Brennan Trevelyan, of Ostwick. Might i know your name?"

[ladysunshines]

"Yes." How could they have heard about things in Ostwick already?

There is no need to protest that he isn't telling the truth, as it's plain as day that they aren't in Kirkwall. Her mind is still moving too quickly for her body to keep up with it easily and she feels queasy despite his assertion that there is no immediate threat in the area.

At least he's from the Free Marches -- thank the Maker for small miracles. Instead of going for his hand, she offers him a half-hearted bow. "Bethany Hawke," she manages steadily, "and you've already guessed where I'm from."

[outofthebreach]

Well, shit.

She's not Marian, and she's definitely not Garrett or Carver. But the name Hawke means a lot of things, even to him, so he hesitates as he absorbs that and quickly debates what he can do about it.

"I did. The robes," he supplies, motioning to her before letting his hand drop to his side once more. "You're looking for your brother. There's a chance I can help you find him, but I need his name. You're in a place called Wonderland and the magic in this place... it does strange things to time and worlds. And when people arrive here, they don't always remember the same people or coming from the same place.

[bloodmagics]

It's mere coincidence Garrett happens to be out on the grounds when Bethany starts yelling. Coincidence in the form of a mabari, anyway. After the unpleasantness that was his reaction to Carver's arrival, he'd promised Dorian he'd try to keep himself from doing anything like that again, and if nothing else, jogging after the mabari was a good way to kill time.

When his blood isn't turning to ice in his veins, at least.

At first, he thinks it's one of Wonderland's tricks, that the damned place is sticking its fingers into the haphazardly stitched wounds and twisting until there's a new mess to be healed. It's only when the mabari runs off, interest piqued by the new voice, that he follows the sound, coming to a halt a short distance behind Bethany while the mabari, which while it looks nothing like the one they'd escaped Lothering with, is still a familiar enough face for Bethany, continues forward huffing a bark at her. Garrett swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to budge.

Once, he would've run straight to her and thrown his arms around her and refused to let go. Now, though, he hesitates, even takes a step backwards. She might be his sister, but is he her brother? He went through it once with Carver already, he doesn't know what he'll do if Bethany doesn't recognise him. Not that he has much chance to get away, what with how the mabari is ruining everything.

Please note the ironic keywording of this icon in relation to this thread

[ladysunshines]

The sound of a mabari is one that all Fereldens know well, and although when she spins around to face the creature it does not look familiar, the bark hardly sounds aggressive enough to be a threat. It seems the opposite, in fact, which is all the more confusing as far as she's concerned. She hesitates, not pointing her staff toward the creature but only dropping it into a neutral position -- that is, at least, until she follows the mabari's path backwards and finds its owner.

Relief floods through her body and she slings her staff awkwardly over her shoulder, breaking into a run as best one can when one is wearing robes so that she can meet him quickly as possible. Hopefully the ice in his veins will provide him some stability when his sister runs into him, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"Garrett," she breathes out, feeling some of the tremble finally shake loose from her body, "Thank the Maker." If they were here together, at least she would not be alone.

lbr it's not hard to be

[bloodmagics]

The second she's close enough, his arms close around her, pulling her impossibly close as if he'll never let go. "Bethany?" He manages, his voice cracking as the weight of the situation slams into him, that his sister is here, she recognises him, she knows who he is. "Bethany," he repeats, voice quickly gaining its composure, "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

Everything else goes unsaid, because this is an opportunity he would never get in Thedas. For this one, brief, impossible moment, nothing else exists outside of Bethany. The mabari runs circles around them, barking happily even though it doesn't understand the true weight of the moment. The fact Garrett absolutely refuses to let go might clue Bethany in to the fact something isn't quite right, but right now, he doesn't want to -- can't let go.

Re: lbr it's not hard to be

[ladysunshines]

Well, that's ... at least somewhat unexpected. She'd hugged him not too long before arriving here, but she'd been thanking him for saving her life and he'd more or less gotten prickly like the gruff hedgehog he tended to become when she did so, even if he'd leaned into it just a little. This hug isn't like that in the least, but given the circumstances...

She squirms just enough so that Garrett won't crack her rib or something silly like that and blinks. "I think have some idea, given how startled I was to have shown up here so suddenly." She's still making the assumption that he got here at the same time as or shortly after her. "What's going on, exactly?"

[bloodmagics]

Garrett, at least, has the decency to loosen his grip when she squirms. He doesn't let her go entirely but he does stop crushing her. "You really don't," he answers, rather cryptically, before powering forwards, refusing to explain. Pulling back, he looks at Bethany, really looks at her, something strange coming across his expression.

"It's a long story. One I'll be more than happy to tell you, just... Just let me look at you for a moment?"