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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"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."

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.

The mention of magic in this place does little to reassure her. She swallows as he speaks, trying to be attentive while her mind races in the background. The important thing for now is that this man -- Brennan -- is saying that he may be able to help her. A glimmer of hope was better than nothing at all.

She takes a deep breath in and nods. "My brother. His name is Garrett Hawke." All she can do now is to pray to the Maker that the name means something to Brennan, if what he's saying about people not coming from the same place has any truth to it.

"Do you know of him?" She knows she ought to give him more time to answer, but she's anxious -- reasonably so, she thinks.

"I know him, actually," Brennan answers, some part of him heaving a sigh of relief. He thought he'd heard Isabela mention something like this - Hawke having a sister rather than a brother in Kirkwall, different than the story he knew, but this at least gives him a direction to head in.

And how to figure out how to bring up the existence of a Carver as well.

"He's here - mostly likely in the manor somewhere. Would you like me to help you locate him? I can tell you what I know as we go. Although I'd wager everything on the fact that you're probably not going to believe it until you see for yourself."

It feels as if at least some of the blood that had rushed out of her cheeks at the thought that she was no longer in Kirkwall returns as soon as Brennan says that he doesn't only know where Garrett is, but that he actually knows him. If Garrett is here, then at least she won't be alone in a strange place.

She nods, glad for the support of her staff. "I would appreciate any help you can give me. I'm a bit -- out of my depth." It wasn't as if she'd ever been all that worldly even before being taken to the Circle -- they'd spent too much time and effort hiding her away for much of her life.

"We've all been out of our depth upon arriving here, my lady." He gives a soft chuckle as he motions for her to follow him into the house. "Maker, I've been here for months now and I'm still out of my depth. You're certainly not alone in that. I can try and clear up what I can, if you've questions?"

That would at least give him a direction to start.

She's glad that he isn't acting higher and mightier than her because he knows what's going on. Brennan is on the level, it seems, and he's being terribly kind to her. She follows him easily, falling into whatever rhythm of step that he chooses to keep.

"I've got nothing but questions," she assures him with a very small, fleeting smile, "and I wouldn't want to bother you with them all." She supposes they do need to pass the time, though...

"But I must know -- what sort of magic could even begin to pull people to another world?"

"The kind we're still trying to understand, and as far as I've been informed, having no luck at wielding for ourselves," Brennan answers with a put-upon sigh. "It's like nothing we've ever seen or heard of in Thedas. And there are people here from other worlds, ones who've never even heard of the places we come from, who seem to be having the same amount of luck. I've heard this place called a 'pocket dimension', a place set apart from all worlds and times and yet able to pluck a person from anywhere - and anywhen - to deposit them here. When we are returned - because that seems likely for most, although the magic seems rather fickle in those it keeps for any given amount of time - it's to the exact moment and place we were taken from, with no memories of this place retained at all. Like we were never gone in the first place."

So, not only an unfamiliar sort of magic, but an unfamiliar sort of magic that couldn't be harnessed by the mages who'd come to this place so far. Wonderful.

She is busy looking around as he continues to walk her, taking in the details of the grounds. It all looks real enough, but she of all people knew that looks could be deceiving.

"That seems like a waste of time," she observes, "or a waste of magic, to bring people here to no apparent end." Harnessing them as slaves to build them an empire would make sense, but bringing them here only to return them home with no memory of this place?

But then ... "Other worlds?" Her eyes gleam at the idea even as it makes her stomach clench in terror. "There must be a lot to talk about, then."

"According to some that have been here a while, this place sustains itself on memories. Perhaps that's why it takes them back when we leave. But it also occasionally does things with them here? Sometimes this place recreates times or places or dangers from the worlds people hail from - only a few days at a time, mind, but it makes things confusing all the same. An interruption of an otherwise quiet and what it tries to make a very comfortable stay, it seems."

She frowns. The idea of a place that consumes memories is understandably terrifying for someone who's now concerned at home about being turned Tranquil.

"At least it follows some sort of rules, then. It makes sense for it to want to take as many memories as possible, so the memories of us staying here would let it -- grow its own food, as it were." She can't help but think, though, "Is this place then some sort of creature in and of itself?" Because that means it can be defeated, in theory.

"Perhaps, but if it is, we don't know where it makes its lair. Or if it has one. I've heard mention of a Core beyond the Mirrors, but our access to that side of this realm is... complicated," he answers with a grimace. "I haven't been over there myself, but Dorian, my companion, has and the entire place and those who inhabit it are... well. Less than pleasant."

"Creatures as foul as this one must be rarely hide themselves where they're easy to get to," she nods, "Or pleasant to be in."

She sighs, glancing ahead again. "But if it's the place where the heart of this creature might be, then I would be willing to risk it."

"Therein lies the problem," he answers with a faint quirk of his lips, more self-depreciating rather than any actual humor. "It is not up to us to choose when or how to pass through to the Mirror side. It seems those that dwell over there are the only ones with the freedom to choose to come and go as they wish. With a notable few exceptions some of the longer residents have mentioned. But it seems any time those of the Mirror side get involved, things get messy quickly."

"Is it a Mirror realm in the most literal sense, then?" A reflection of this place, but not quite the place itself -- laden with inconsistencies and small differences, not unlike the place a demon would create to entrap humans.

Hmm. The whole 'this place is a creature' theory is really starting to feel like it has merit. She shakes her head.

"This is very unsettling -- all of it. Next you're going to tell me that they raise the dead, here."

"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..."

"...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."

"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."

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.

"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."

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."

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.

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