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)
entrancelogs2016-04-25 12:26 pm
heroica) wrote in entrancelogs2016-04-25 12:26 pm
( open ) they'll name a city after us
Who: Robyn Cousland and YOU
Where: Tenth floor, room 030 (the chapel) & the forest clearing. You can also catch her traveling to and from those locations!
When: April 27th
Rating: PG/PG-13 for mild language and talk of death
Summary: Not long after being told that she's going to die in her own world, the Warden was bitten by one of the Infected and then died to prevent turning. A week after she returns, she has to face that truth in a much more concrete way than before.
The Story:
[ Those who were said to find peace in their dying moments and in death were lucky. They were not Robyn, dead once now, dead twice at the least when everything is said and done. It had been bloody and cold and cruel from beginning to end, when their would-be safe house was overrun by people who were said to be still living, but transformed by a parasite. It had been too similar to the darkspawn, the blight, and the taint, and when she'd been bitten, she'd half-expected the poison already in her blood to overcome the new. Maybe they did battle for control: it certainly felt that way, how her veins burned and her wound worsened more quickly than she could have imagined. She would have become one of them, but she would never let that happen, just as the Grey Wardens kept from becoming ghouls by opting for deaths of their own choosing. She had meant to do it herself, but in the end, she hadn't even been able to manage that. If Leliana hadn't found her... would she have let herself turn?
Robyn keeps to her room until she can't stand it, climbing the walls and positively manic with the angst of it all. In a restless haze, she tears through the mansion's halls, making eye contact with no one, barely aware of her legs carrying her out and away. The Warden stalks through the grass of the grounds, mabari at her heels (whining softly in confusion and compassion) until she arrives at a clearing that another Warden had pointed out to her weeks and weeks ago. She withdraws her dagger and flings it at one of the training dummies, but her hands are shaking and it misses her mark, lodging itself in the lower half of the thing. She drops the crossbow from her back, holding it in her hands and raised toward the dummy, but she changes her mind and lets the weapon fall, dropping down with it. The crossbow lands with a soft thump in the grass and the Warden herself lies on her back, staring up at the canopy of trees, hair fanned out against the grass. She doesn't cry: all noises are caught up in the lump in her throat. Oren lays down at her side, curling against her, occasionally licking her hand.
Later, after hours have passed, she leaves. Slowly, mechanically, she gathers up her dagger and her crossbow and leaves the clearing, moving back to the mansion when the sun is still high in the sky. Doors and halls and people are just as much the blurs that they'd been in the morning, and eventually she makes it up to the top of the mansion, just below the roof. Gently, she sets down all of her weapons at the entrance of the chapel that she'd helped to create for purposes like these, and she lays a hand on the back pew, staring hard at the not-so-distant wall. Eventually, Robyn moves to the front, kneeling and then sitting back, eyes shut tight and hands clasped right in front of her face. ]
"... The fear of death is in your eyes; its hand is upon your throat. Raise your voices to the heavens! Remember: not alone do we stand on the field of battle..."
Where: Tenth floor, room 030 (the chapel) & the forest clearing. You can also catch her traveling to and from those locations!
When: April 27th
Rating: PG/PG-13 for mild language and talk of death
Summary: Not long after being told that she's going to die in her own world, the Warden was bitten by one of the Infected and then died to prevent turning. A week after she returns, she has to face that truth in a much more concrete way than before.
The Story:
[ Those who were said to find peace in their dying moments and in death were lucky. They were not Robyn, dead once now, dead twice at the least when everything is said and done. It had been bloody and cold and cruel from beginning to end, when their would-be safe house was overrun by people who were said to be still living, but transformed by a parasite. It had been too similar to the darkspawn, the blight, and the taint, and when she'd been bitten, she'd half-expected the poison already in her blood to overcome the new. Maybe they did battle for control: it certainly felt that way, how her veins burned and her wound worsened more quickly than she could have imagined. She would have become one of them, but she would never let that happen, just as the Grey Wardens kept from becoming ghouls by opting for deaths of their own choosing. She had meant to do it herself, but in the end, she hadn't even been able to manage that. If Leliana hadn't found her... would she have let herself turn?
Robyn keeps to her room until she can't stand it, climbing the walls and positively manic with the angst of it all. In a restless haze, she tears through the mansion's halls, making eye contact with no one, barely aware of her legs carrying her out and away. The Warden stalks through the grass of the grounds, mabari at her heels (whining softly in confusion and compassion) until she arrives at a clearing that another Warden had pointed out to her weeks and weeks ago. She withdraws her dagger and flings it at one of the training dummies, but her hands are shaking and it misses her mark, lodging itself in the lower half of the thing. She drops the crossbow from her back, holding it in her hands and raised toward the dummy, but she changes her mind and lets the weapon fall, dropping down with it. The crossbow lands with a soft thump in the grass and the Warden herself lies on her back, staring up at the canopy of trees, hair fanned out against the grass. She doesn't cry: all noises are caught up in the lump in her throat. Oren lays down at her side, curling against her, occasionally licking her hand.
Later, after hours have passed, she leaves. Slowly, mechanically, she gathers up her dagger and her crossbow and leaves the clearing, moving back to the mansion when the sun is still high in the sky. Doors and halls and people are just as much the blurs that they'd been in the morning, and eventually she makes it up to the top of the mansion, just below the roof. Gently, she sets down all of her weapons at the entrance of the chapel that she'd helped to create for purposes like these, and she lays a hand on the back pew, staring hard at the not-so-distant wall. Eventually, Robyn moves to the front, kneeling and then sitting back, eyes shut tight and hands clasped right in front of her face. ]
"... The fear of death is in your eyes; its hand is upon your throat. Raise your voices to the heavens! Remember: not alone do we stand on the field of battle..."