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makinglies2025-09-27 05:54 pm
lysoke) wrote in makinglies2025-09-27 05:54 pm
Entry tags:
Respite
Respite
The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.
Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.
He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.
As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.
Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.
"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.
Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.
A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.
Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.
"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."
Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.
He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.
As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.
Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.
"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.
Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.
A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.
Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.
"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."
19 Deception
"I am an avatar of hidden truths and awful knowledge. It is... difficult for me not to pull at that sort of... thread. Particularly when things get heated. Particularly when I can hear someones thoughts... spiraling. It was instinct, but it's something I should have let go of and just walked away. I won't be talking to her about it anymore." He glances sidelong at Amelia. "It might be best if we limit our conversations beyond practical matters until I'm either catatonic or you've figured yourself out."
Insight 23
Where his arms are folded, his fingers curl tight into the skin. He should have unrolled his sleeves after doing the washing. He can taste the words 'You'll be well beyond unconscious if we wait for the latter-most.'
It's mean, uncalled for, and also already known by likely everyone here. It wouldn't serve anything but being cruel. He still felt sharp, but after his and Amelia's conversation, he could afford that much grace at least.
"Luckily, it's only the Eye, way Jon tells it, there are other Powers that would be just as tempted by that sort of loud thinking. For that matter...there are things here that might notice and prey on you as well, so I'd recommend finding what might help you figure yourself out. You're not the only one who's lost everything...you could talk to any of us...except Jon. In fact, I'd recommend it."
He bites the inside of his lip and tries not to let the insidious jealousy of Amelia's emotion glom back onto him. Her emotions didn't need to be his business as long as they were taking space, and the same worked in the reverse.
He looks to Jon next and gives a small nod. "Limiting your conversations...or at least avoiding that particular topic would be for the best for now, I agree. You and Wolfe might have had time to think about this or have your own crises before now, but Amelia's not. Next time, I'll make sure there's a larger division of space in the temple so everyone can take theirs as needed until we're a little more sorted out." That's about the only solution he can offer when the rest requires time and godly intervention, but it was something, at least.
"Regardless...I thank you for telling us and not trying to hide it for some inane reason. Kind of like how Jon's being dodgy now, but I'm sure you've a good reason for it."
Insight 25!
“Unless…” Focus. Focus on what they can handle in the immediate, put a time on the rest so they can set it down knowing it will be handled later. “I want to ask if we can all talk about it after our mission tomorrow. We can take our aggressions out on zombies and be open with each other about how we’re feeling once we’re safely back from the Shadowfell. Please, all of us.”
He gives a meaningful glance to Jon - clearly still hiding something - and then focuses on the group at large, his gaze more pleading than anything. “I’ve been trying not to force anything, and I don’t want to, but the more I think about it, the more I don’t think suffering with our own doubts in silence or only sharing tiny glimpses of our struggles is serving us. We’re all here for love. Escape, yes, but here, in this temple, with these people, for love. The last thing any of us is going to do is suddenly not care for each other after hearing of each other’s struggles. I’m dead certain many of them are shared.”
Whether it’s the impassioned tone of his voice or just the noise of activity, Patience and Cookie come up to flank Wolfe’s sides, receiving absent pets for their presence. Patience stays for a moment, then surveys her assembled pack and gives a low boof to Cookie. Cookie pads to Amelia, laying her head in the rogue’s lap, and Patience leans into Wolfe’s leg before padding to Chris’ side and sitting vigilantly where Chris’ fingers can’t help but lightly brush her fur.
“I imagine the Eye, or anything else, will be less interested when we’ve taken the spice from its food,” Wolfe manages a vague smile at that suggestion, but it’s clear in the tightness around his eyes and the way he braces himself that he expects all of them to argue with him.
no subject
Chris gets a vague nod in answer to his suggestion and thanks, but she doesn't move as Wolfe speaks. Her answer is on the tip of her tongue, a stern and broken-toned 'No.' because she's being asked for this sooner than she wants. Wolfe knew of this and had time to think on it. Jon seems to live in a constant state of not fully knowing who or what he is because of his complicated life. And Chris... he's had a visceral way of reckoning at least some of this in his mind between their arrival yesterday and whatever he did on his own this afternoon. When does she get her time to deal with this? When is she going to be afforded her private moments to cry, scream, and rage with her thoughts until there's something more than 'I don't know' in answer to what's in her head and heart?
Ask for it. Believe they'll say yes. They have reasons to say yes and help you.
She gives Jon a sharp look, a warning to say nothing about the clear thought ringing in her head: What they want is more important than I am. It always is.
"I don't know how much I'll be able to speak, but I will listen." Her eyes remain trained on the Archivist. "So long as what I 'should' be thinking and feeling isn't dictated to me again. I refuse to be spoken down to like that again."
It'll happen anyway, she's certain. Something will be said that will set her off and she'll leave the table in tears of some sort. She'll just need to pull herself together enough to say why she needs to get away from the conversation, then it'll be fine. Or at least less terrible.
Cookie noses at her hands and Amelia finally capitulates to gently pet the top of her head. It does nothing for her mood, but that's not Cookie's fault. The rogue wants her companion to know she's doing what she should, regardless of the outcome. She hopes that comes across enough to keep the dog from whining or putting her paws up in Amelia's lap for more direct attention.
no subject
"I'm not trying to hide anything," he adds before looking at Amelia. "I'm trying to protect you. All of you. I don't actually want to hurt you. And I don't think I'm the right person to soothe anyone in all of this, either."
no subject
"I'm inclined to agree. I'll talk if it feels it'll help, but right now, I'm just as likely to hurt someone's feelings as help. I agree there's plenty that needs airing and addressing, but not yet. After the Shadowfell, yes, but maybe not even immediately after that. It'll come when it comes and not when you decide a time is best."
He's not trying to be mean about it, he sincerely hopes he's not, but his patience is gone in the matter of seconds with all of this. He can taste the barbs in his throat.
"Thank you for trying to hold your tongue, Jon. If we're not going to be any more helpful to each other tonight, then I've got things I need to do afore bed, if that's alright." He says, already starting on said things, but he was mostly asking to be nice, not for permission.
Deception 29
Which is right of him, Wolfe has to concede. Right of them to refuse in their ways. He’s rushing. Like always, he’s trying to rush to the end where they’ve worked things out - like he knows they will eventually - and he’s ashamed for it. For pushing when he’s said so many times he wouldn’t. So Wolfe decides he won’t, no matter how much it makes his innards squirm to back down.
“Alright,” he finally replies, not meekly. Not cheerfully either but he does keep the negativity from his tone entirely. “That’s fair enough. Everyone should be willing when we do talk this over, not just me. Though Jon, as much as I care for you, I would not hesitate to knock you out if you break out in eyeballs. I’m sure I’m not the only one.”
It’s not a threat, and Wolfe doesn’t think anyone will take it as such. It’s as much for Jon’s protection as it is for everyone else’s.
“Regardless. I didn’t say before, but thank you both for telling us. As frustrating as it is that it happened at all, and that you kept it from us even for a short time, I’m glad you were able to work it out between yourselves.” He smiles a little, though it’s at no one in particular. “I should take the girls for a walk before bed too, so we should go on, I guess.”
At the word ‘walk’, Cookie scrambles for the door. Patience looks that way, then up at Chris and the assembled group. Deciding where she’ll do the most good, she heads over to join her sister, though not before giving Chris’ hand a lick. Chuckling mostly with his shoulders, Wolfe shakes his head. “Flames, I should know better than to say that word aloud.”
no subject
"I need to resharpen some of my knives, and I could use time in the springs if no one minds my presence there." Her eyes shift to Jon again, seeing as he's the one who doesn't care for others being naked in his presence, then back back to Wolfe. "You should try the new pants while you take the girls out. If they need any further adjustments, you'll know quickly and I can take care of that before we go to sleep."
She rises to her feet and grabs her bag to signal her readiness to move forward, hesitating at the last moment to look between both Chris and Wolfe. "It was important that you know what happened. We only needed a chance to speak to one another first." Either of them could have gone to the others the second it happened, but with all that frustration, guilt, and anger so fresh, it likely would've been a much more unpleasant conversation. "We'll both do what we can to avoid a repeat of this."
Will it be enough? Is any of what she does enough when everything feels so precarious? Dreams, she can only hope so.
no subject
When everyone else rises, Jon follows suit and heads toward the room with the wardrobe. "I'm getting dressed for bed, then I'll be in the study. Do as you like."
He doesn't wait for acknowledgement or to bid farewell to Wolfe, just disappears inside and closes the door. Poppet is sleeping on one of the pillows within the room and trills sleepily at him when he approaches. Jon resists the urge to pull her into a tight hug and just strokes her for a few moments before he fetches some pajamas out of the wardrobe. It's a long moment before he pulls out some of the nice underwear again, and then puts it back. He doesn't need that. He doesn't deserve that right now.
Dressing is a brief affair before Jon retires to the study, carrying Poppet on her pillow with him. The Archivist will spend the next while until bed reading and practicing his writing. He does want to talk to Chris about the idea of asking Mystra for more than just being woven into the Weave, but it can wait. There's much that can wait.
no subject
For his part, he double-checks his breastplate and sets it out for himself along with his cloak and boots and Death's Door. Usually, he prayed in the mornings, but as the window for the dying of the day neared its closing, he took advantage of the chance to prepare one less thing in the morning.
The gentle weight of Little Thunder on his shoulder accompanies his prayers as he reaches for the spells he'll need to make quick work of whatever swarm they need to subdue. Whatever mess his guardians had made inadvertently. If he were condemned to the shadows of his own life, he could at least clean up after the parts he remembered being responsible for.
It's a ritual that calms and refocuses him. One that makes feeding the raven with him and heading to bed a little earlier than he might normally, an easy choice. His feet still stung from earlier, after all, and he didn't make a habit of wasting magic on something sleep could fix.
While he's not unkind to his family whenever they might make their way to join him, he keeps a peace that brokers no discussion. He'd had quite enough of any kind of talking.
cw: noncon and imprisonment mention
It doesn't matter now. Ever if he did get the chance to see Varric again, his friend wouldn't know him. By sight maybe, by voice, but not by experience. Not all of it. The only one who had that depth of knowledge was...
Dead. Years long dead. Died alone in those damned halls, used for sex and energy, waiting for rescue - Wolfe's rescue - that never came.
Its quiet outside, the natural quiet of no cars or trains or electric lights. It's beyond dark too, and Wolfe has to resist the urge to summon a wisp to light his way. He can't even do that right now lest his magic slip away faster than it already is. Maybe its how it should be, shuffling his way in the dark quiet night and prodding the ground before him with his staff like a blind man. He's cold even with the scavenged clothes and feeling a familiar pressure in his chest. Stress, he acknowledges, but also something else. Something too close to how he felt in the back rooms, or in the Pit.
Or in the Fade.
It's not hopeless, stop being dramatic. Its been less than two days, Wolfe all but growls at himself in his head, but the feeling won't abate. And for the first time since arriving it occurs to him that the lonely feeling maybe isn't because of the distance he's been trying to bridge with his new family, but from the chasm that exists between him and his old one.
He thought he'd processed it, not being exactly who he thought he was, but it still hits him like a physical blow, causing him to stop and take a deeper breath around the pressure that won't go away. He'd talked to Chris that morning about Carver, how Carver was no longer his brother, how it must be so much worse for Chris to know Rhyt and his Guardians are right there but still so far away. But what's hard is not just the lack of people but instead the lack of definition. Who is he if not there for who he loves?The glue that holds all his disparate people together? But they're fracturing anyway. They fractured anyway. Carver and the man I was modeled from are the last of the Hawkes, the group I'd gathered in Kirkwall is fractured to the four winds. I failed my Anders, and Morrigan, and Alaric, and so everyone who never- Who didn't-
Those expectations were his and they were also not, both things true at once that go around and around until the squeeze around his heart makes it difficult to breathe and he stumbles, bringing his hand to his chest, massaging over his heart and trying to focus on what he's been told so many times, mostly by the people so important to him, miserable in that temple around the curve of lake's edge.
I'm not responsible for everyone.
This isn't my fault.
Nothing is currently falling apart.
Not now.
Not yet.
Patience startles him, coming up out of the darkness to shove her head under his arms. He hadn't even realized he was on his knees, but it doesn't matter in favor of soft warm fur and a cold nose.
...
It's quite late when Wolfe finally returns, trying to be as quiet as he can as he gets around for bed. He still feels off. Empty in a way he doesn't like, but it's a softer pressure than it had been.
He should get some sleep. They have work to do in the morning.
no subject
Her work is long since done when Wolfe returns, knives sharpened and rocks collected into a pouch for tomorrow's venture into the Shadowfell. She's bathed, she's brushed out her hair, and she's checked over her leathers and clothes to be certain they're in decent condition. Everything is ready, except for her. As much as the rogue craved the quiet and the time to herself, forcing her mind to quiet doesn't help her sleep. There are few things that do, and the one with golden curls won't look at her. And so she's at the door when her mage and their dogs return, still dressed in the sweater and loose pants she's been wearing all day, hands outstretched to greet him.
There's little to be said once he and the girls are inside. They're all tired and need their rest, and her focus remains on that. She stays close to Wolfe as he gets ready for bed, offering any help he needs and simply being a steady presence at his side. When they're fully ready to climb down into bed, she pauses them long enough to lift herself and press her forehead to his to bolster them both for a brief moment. She presses a kiss to each of his cheeks and then his lips as she withdraws, squeezing his hands gently before stepping down into the pillow pit and encouraging him to follow.
It's time for rest and to put all the strife the day has brought behind them. It's time to rebuild their strength so they can take on the undead in the Shadowfell with clear heads and strong arms. It may not be easy, but they'll find their way through.
Amelia settles, briefly touching Chris' shoulder as a sign of her presence, then makes space for Wolfe to settle between them. The cleric may not reach for either of them, but she wants to leave the option for Chris to change his mind throughout the night and move closer to Wolfe. Even if he doesn't, she'll be against the mage's side all night, pressed all the closer when Patience inevitably joins them for her own rest.
no subject
When he does finally creep out of the study, it's after everyone else has laid down. Poppet is cuddled in his arms, and he sets her on one of the pillows to burrow in before lying down next to Chris. He's not sure if the cleric is awake, but he mutters a soft, "I love you," in Common as he traces the dimly lit line of his boyfriend's jaw, and then settles and closes his eyes.
In spite of everything today, that remains his guiding light. He loves this man. He loves Wolfe. He loves......... that they have Amelia, given their love for her. And they'll have the Shadowfell tomorrow to keep their minds and bodies occupied. Something to do seems like a good idea for all of them at this point.