entrancelogs | ☼ Arrival; ☼

Entry tags:

☼ Arrival; ☼

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.

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"I have not seen it personally yet - my companion Dorian has, though. You step through the Mirrors and it's a reflection of this side of the realm we're trapped in but everything is backwards. And there are copies of many of us, but... different. Worse, in most cases. If you ever come across a Mirror of one of our selves, be wary. None of those I have seen or heard of make for pleasant encounters."

Her off-hand comment gets a sheepish laugh from him as he rubs the back of his hand. "Well, actually..."

She imagines it's probably the same thing she'd feel if she were told more than once that there was a world where her brother survived. She won't tell him that they're likely just trying to reassure him by telling him there are worlds where things work out; she can't argue with the way that he feels, after all.

"It isn't as if it's anything we can change. It must be frustrating."

She nods, opting to take the suggested subject shift to somewhere that would benefit them both in different ways. It's important information to know, so...

"I'd very much appreciate it if you shared what you've learned about this place with me. Perhaps you can help me avoid making too much of a fool of myself." There's a slight, fleeting smile.

"Carver," she chides gently, letting him squeeze her as he pleases for the moment since it's not something she wouldn't be doing in turn if he let go, "You can't just forget the person you came into the world with." It had been why losing him all those years ago had cut her so deeply -- because as silly as it sounded, their bond was different from the one that she and Garrett shared. It might not have been perfect at times, but it was theirs nonetheless.

She steadies her own breath while she soaks in the rest of his words, though, head canted to the side. It's cautious curiosity, as restrained as she can make it given her waning adrenaline.

"So long as nothing is going to jump out of the shadows and attack us at any second, you've got plenty of time to explain things." She lets her hand drop to his shoulder and rests it there, peering over Carver's back to take in the rest of the surroundings.

"It certainly is pretty, at least. If you haven't noticed." The last bit is teasing, something she might be a tad rusty at but something she's missed.

"...Maker, really? I should stop making jokes, shouldn't I."

She takes note of his words about the Mirror selves, although she has to wonder how she'll know she's encountering one if what Brennan says about the rest of their little captive population is true. How can she know the face of every single person here if they can arrive at any time, just as she had?

Perhaps the better strategy was to be wary in general, as exhausting as the thought was.

"I'm not sure 'raising' is quite the right term but no," he answers wryly. "People don't tend to stay dead here. Sometimes the events can be harsh and result in such losses - or so I've been told, I haven't seen that many threatening ones since I've arrived, more confusing than anything else. But Wonderland seems to restore what it takes in this regard. And on occasion people will show up here even if they've died in the world we know."

People will show up here even if they've died in the world we know. That statement alone has her glancing off to the side, distracted. The idea that Carver could be here, or that her mother could be ... it makes her heart beat quickly in her chest.

"The level of advanced magic that would take..." she shakes her head. "I can't begin to fathom it. I imagine this place wouldn't last long if it just killed off all its food supply, though. So it makes some sense."

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."

As distressing as all of that is, Cullen is still a templar (as far as she knows), and a man who could certainly be considered an ally of hers. She doesn't want to get on his bad side, and she's quickly regaining her normal restraint. She nods at his words, not fully absorbing them right now.

"Then I apologize," she says carefully, placing her staff back in its sling since he's done the same to his shield, "For my hastiness. I was in the middle of something rather dangerous in Kirkwall, and was expecting the same here."

That was vague enough an explanation for now, since this man is saying he's been here for two months even though she would swear on her mother's grave that she saw him not a half-hour ago.

"How many people have been abducted like this?" Certainly enough people disappeared in Kirkwall and nobody batted an eye -- she supposed it was possible.

Happy to let the subject of their worlds drop, Fenris nods in agreement. He doesn't have much to share about their prison, but what he knows, he'll share.

"I've not been here long enough to know much, but I will tell you what I can." And even the few people he's spoken with who have been here for a time seem not to have too much information. Or if they do, they haven't deigned to share it.

"We're given quarters there." He points over his shoulder toward the mansion. "As far as I know, we may alter them however we see fit. The closets are magical; if you request something from them, it will be provided. Though be cautious in how you word your request, else you might not receive what you actually want."

He starts to reach for his belt pouch, then remembers that he doesn't have the magical box with him. "We're also provided a small magical box that allows us to speak with one another at a distance. It's more complicated than that, there are other aspects of it I've yet to determine, but that seems the point of the thing."

She jokes, but Carver had wondered if he'd be a part of some worlds and not, considering how things have been going. That he's part of hers is enough—he doesn't even care about the rest. Everything certainly isn't coming up roses, but it's fine. Things will work out. Bethany is here and real and that's what matters more than anything.

Not entirely keen on letting her go just yet, Carver keeps his arms around her so they can stay connected as long as possible. Call him crazy for it—and he might agree—but it's calming the tempestuous waters inside.

"It's all right."

It's nice enough, but he doesn't really care about that. It's not the slums of Kirkwall, that's for sure. But this place reminds him too much of the poncey idiots in Orlais to really care enough about liking how it looks. He sighs softly and rubs his forehead.

"I don't know where to even start about this place. Other than nothing makes a lot of sense and it's annoying."

"It's a scope of magic we can barely even begin to understand it seems, let alone figure out how to wield for ourselves so far," he agrees with her, sounding a little frustrated by that fact. "Not that I can do anything of the sort anyway, but there are other mages here as well. None of them seem to be having much luck."

The idea of having to word her requests carefully elicits little more than intense curiosity from Bethany, as does the idea of a closet being able to produce that sort of complex magic in the first place. She lets her head cant to the side for a moment, trying to figure out how that might work.

"A magical box that allows us to speak to one another at a distance?" She pauses, scrunching her nose up in confusion. All these things sounded too surreal to be true, but Fenris really had no reason to lie to her (especially as she'd probably find out after a short time that he was lying). "Like some sort of eluvian?" That's the only thing she could think of, magically, that could allow any sort of distance transportation -- but that wasn't conversation, was it?

"Why would it deign it necessary to give us something like that? Or to give us anything at all, since it's taken us prisoner?"

She perks up. The idea that there might be mages here who are from other words, and who similarly might wield some sort of other magic -- the possibilities were staggering, and maybe her ridiculous scholarly side was showing, but it didn't matter.

"I wonder if they'd be willing to share something about their magics, too. We could perform research!" Leave it to Bethany to be distracted by research.

Once she finds out that the closet will probably give her an infinite number of shoes, dresses, and fancy hats, Bethany will gladly proclaim that at least in that aspect it was far superior to Orlais. She'll allow Carver the proximity because it calms her in turn, and that's certainly something that is welcome after the events of the past few hours.

She tilts her head to the side in response to Carver's last statement, wondering whether it's just her brother's propensity to take every situation rather bleakly or whether the place really didn't make much sense. Given what she'd witnessed so far, she was inclined to believe the latter over the former (despite initial biases).

"Well, then why don't you start with where it is you came from?" She presumed he hadn't just wandered out of thin air to find her, so he must have been in some other location in this place. "And what else there is here to find, buildings-wise. If there's a drake pit underneath a pile of sticks or something, I'd like to know about it."

Edited 2016-03-29 04:38 (UTC)

He wouldn't call it an eluvian, exactly, though perhaps that's as close as they can come to something similar.

"Perhaps a very small eluvian," he concedes, then adds, not knowing if she's ever heard of such a thing, "Or one of the sending crystals the magisters use in Tevinter. It transmits our voices to one another and also our images. This particular device can also send words, though I've no idea what they say."

It's somewhat gratifying to hear his questions coming from her as well. It makes him feel a little less mad.

"I do not know. No one could give me an acceptable explanation when I asked. Whatever this place wants from us, it means to keep us comfortable while it takes it. I do not trust it."

"They all seem quite delighted to share knowledge with each other, as far as I've seen. There's even a sort of study or school set up on one of the floors, for mages to come together to meet. And there is a library vaster than most I've ever seen," Brennan supplies.

He's heard all about both from Dorian, by now.

She'll be pleased as punch to meet Dorian, even if she doesn't know as much yet. She nods, eager to push out the negative thoughts about this place with something a little more manageable.

"I'm sure it will make the Circle tower look like a petty market stand."

She isn't much of an expert on Tevinter out of a profound concern and fear of the darker sides of magic, but Fenris' explanation of them makes it clear enough what their purpose is.

"No, and you shouldn't." As she was sure that this Fenris knew as well as the one that she was acquainted with, a gilded cage was still a cage. They were still being held here against their wills, being fed on by some -- parasitic world. She pauses.

"Would it be too much trouble to accompany me to the living quarters? I think that's as good a place to start as any."

"No," he answers immediately. "It would not."

Perhaps that's what he ought to have done in the first place. It would give her time to take in the new surroundings in privacy.

Taking a steps backward toward the mansion, Fenris jerks his head in that direction. "Come. It isn't far. If you have any questions on the way, you are welcome to ask." A note of doubtfulness creeps into his voice. "I may not know the answer, but I will try."

Brennan can't help but chuckle at that. "Not a fan either, I take it? I can't blame you. It doesn't take much to look better than a Circle Tower, I'm thinking."

"Dozens at the moment. How many over time I cannot say. Many from across Thedas, but--"

But. This was never a simple conversation to begin with, but they are about to leave 'simple' behind as far as conceivable. He remembers what else she said, and hopes that the words might find him better on that path.

"There's no need for apologies. I did not fare better when I arrived, I suspect many did not. Not to mention what you left behind in Kirkwall-- This execution, did Meredith invoke the Right of Annulment?"

Cullen ought to have asked from the beginning. No matter how clearly it stands out in his mind, it was hardly the only time a mage found death at her command. The only surprise is a voice which could sway her verdict. Perhaps he was wrong? Perhaps she comes from the early years, when Meredith yet spoke sense.

He watches her expression carefully. This must seem a strange question, whether he is right or wrong.

She nods as he motions toward the mansion, straightening herself up a little and preparing to follow him.

"I'm afraid I don't know even know what I should begin asking." She glances to the side at Fenris and cants her head. "I suppose whatever you would have liked to know when you got here.

I'm guessing there isn't much progress on how we get out."

Bethany shrugs her shoulders, a tad uncomfortable.

"It isn't that, really. I was happy at the Circle -- the life of an apostate isn't an easy one, is it?

But the reading is a bit -- restrictive. I had a book or two confiscated in my time." Mostly ones that had come from Isabela, naturally.

From across Thedas. Well, at least the odds were good between Ferelden and Kirkwall that she might find some familiar faces. She purses her lips the moment that he asks about the circumstances of Kirkwall at the time of her arrival here, and perhaps that was answer enough -- but not answering would be rude, wouldn't it?

"...she did, yes. After First Enchanter Orsino..." she trails off for a moment, trying hard to keep a stiff upper lip despite the man's fresh death, "Was driven to extreme measures." Yes, that would do as an explanation. Saying that he had used blood magic to turn himself into a horrific creature using the bodies of his former pupils wasn't something she could stomach just now.

"It was Garrett who kept me from that fate." Yet another moment in time where her brother had saved her from something her magic had caused, however indirectly. She swallows thickly.

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.

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☼ Arrival; ☼

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lbr it's not hard to be