Riona Cousland | Hero and Queen of Ferelden (
bryces_pup) wrote in
driftfleet2017-03-12 05:47 pm
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Entry tags:
Eighth Blight - voice and action
Who: Riona fresh off her canon update, and you
Broadcast: Yes
Action: On the Blue Fish, if desired
When: Forward dated to the morning of 3/13
[She had just closed her eyes for a moment, weary from her journey and bracing herself for whatever lied ahead. Sand coats the lines of her eyes and nose, and the taste won’t seem to leave her mouth. Her breath catches in her throat, ready to verbalize her decision as to where they should go next-
When she opens her eyes, she finds herself not in the west, surrounded by desert and harsh sun, but in a little metal room, laying on a bed. The sudden shift startles her. She springs into a crouching position, kicking the sheets off of her as her hand instinctively goes for her sword or dagger or something.
Her mind reels. The sight of the room, the little trinkets and things that adorn the space feel familiar. Bits of memory jab at her: the odd mask stashed in a corner brings forth a memory of a drunken young man with curls, and Leliana’s knowing smile. Next to the bed she sees a shield propped up against the bedpost, and she recalls a grin and kind words. Slowly but surely, the memories begin to trickle back in.
The fleet. I’m back.
Or, well, awake, by all appearances. Shit, how long have I been out? She sits on the edge of her bed, rubbing her hands over her face-
-and frowning at the smudges of ink that rub off on her fingertips. Lovely. Just what I wanted to wake up to.
Her burst of annoyance is tempered by the sight of a plate with food next to her bed. She’s famished, and wastes no time in gulping it down. The fork clatters loudly onto the plate when she’s done. Pushing it aside, she gets to her feet, her balance a little unsteady as she takes a lurching step towards the door. But she pauses when she reaches for the handle.
It’s been, what, ten years? Yes, she was barely in her twenties when she last set foot amongst the fleet. How is she to face her crew, her friends, the people who’ve come to know her? The Riona they remember will not exactly be the one they see when she steps out. Their memory of her is fresh, while her memories of them are mixed in with the passage of a decade, muddied by time and the perspective of a young woman who didn’t know a damned thing. How is she to reconcile that?
Get on with it. You can’t hide in here forever. Clenching her jaw, she opens the door.
The ship is silent. She suspects most of her crew may be on the planet, or elsewhere. Wherever they are, she’s glad for it. She’s not ready to face them. Quickly she makes a beeline for the bathroom, and locks the door behind her.
Her destination is the sink. It takes quite a bit of water and scrubbing, but eventually she washes off Leliana’s little drawings. After she dries her face off, she looks up and catches her reflection in the mirror. It’s a startling comparison. Because of her time in the fleet, she can more clearly remember her younger self, and the differences between then and now are starker.
Her lips press into a tight line as she takes stock: the bags under her eyes, her more thinned out face, the hardness around her eyes. Standing there in that bathroom, faced with nearer memories of past days, she really fully realizes just how much the years have taken a toll on her.
She sighs; she knows there’s no hiding from this. They need to know she’s awake. And whatever comes, whatever they’ll think of her now, she’ll manage. She always has. It’s all she has.
--
After she showers and gets herself dressed into fresh clothes, Riona grabs her communicator and heads for the bridge. The thought of doing this in the galley leaves her feeling too exposed, and she’s too unfamiliar with the planet to go that far out of her way. The Iskaulit is a shuttle flight away, and Riona doesn’t want to look like she’s hiding. Merely, she wants to just… position herself as best as possible.
So she settles for her pilot’s seat on the bridge. It affords a nice view, and some quiet while she mulls over what she’s going to say. It’s been so long…]
[Once she settles on her choice of words, she flicks on her device. She sticks with voice for now, not wanting to startle anyone unnecessarily.]
It seems that I’m awake.
[To those very familiar with her, they may notice a certain rougher quality to her voice, a sort of coarseness that wasn’t there before.]
Yes, yes, we all know the questions that come next: what did I miss? Has anything changed? And of course, how long have I been out? [A pause. Her tone deadpans.] I remember this place. The natives thought sudden introduction to their water to be the best way of acclimating us to their home. [Assholes.] So, it couldn’t have been for too long.
[There’s a sound, almost like a laugh.] How this place makes a mockery of time…
[Time. It’s not a luxury she has back home. Here, though, she has it in spades. It almost disconcerts her. It feels sort of wrong, that’s how unused to it she is now.]
If you so wish to see me in person, I’m on the bridge on the Blue Fish. Be mindful if you do, though. [A wry, humorless smile stretches across her face, and it’s evident in her tone.] It’s been awhile.
[And with that warning, she shuts the feed off there.]
Broadcast: Yes
Action: On the Blue Fish, if desired
When: Forward dated to the morning of 3/13
[She had just closed her eyes for a moment, weary from her journey and bracing herself for whatever lied ahead. Sand coats the lines of her eyes and nose, and the taste won’t seem to leave her mouth. Her breath catches in her throat, ready to verbalize her decision as to where they should go next-
When she opens her eyes, she finds herself not in the west, surrounded by desert and harsh sun, but in a little metal room, laying on a bed. The sudden shift startles her. She springs into a crouching position, kicking the sheets off of her as her hand instinctively goes for her sword or dagger or something.
Her mind reels. The sight of the room, the little trinkets and things that adorn the space feel familiar. Bits of memory jab at her: the odd mask stashed in a corner brings forth a memory of a drunken young man with curls, and Leliana’s knowing smile. Next to the bed she sees a shield propped up against the bedpost, and she recalls a grin and kind words. Slowly but surely, the memories begin to trickle back in.
The fleet. I’m back.
Or, well, awake, by all appearances. Shit, how long have I been out? She sits on the edge of her bed, rubbing her hands over her face-
-and frowning at the smudges of ink that rub off on her fingertips. Lovely. Just what I wanted to wake up to.
Her burst of annoyance is tempered by the sight of a plate with food next to her bed. She’s famished, and wastes no time in gulping it down. The fork clatters loudly onto the plate when she’s done. Pushing it aside, she gets to her feet, her balance a little unsteady as she takes a lurching step towards the door. But she pauses when she reaches for the handle.
It’s been, what, ten years? Yes, she was barely in her twenties when she last set foot amongst the fleet. How is she to face her crew, her friends, the people who’ve come to know her? The Riona they remember will not exactly be the one they see when she steps out. Their memory of her is fresh, while her memories of them are mixed in with the passage of a decade, muddied by time and the perspective of a young woman who didn’t know a damned thing. How is she to reconcile that?
Get on with it. You can’t hide in here forever. Clenching her jaw, she opens the door.
The ship is silent. She suspects most of her crew may be on the planet, or elsewhere. Wherever they are, she’s glad for it. She’s not ready to face them. Quickly she makes a beeline for the bathroom, and locks the door behind her.
Her destination is the sink. It takes quite a bit of water and scrubbing, but eventually she washes off Leliana’s little drawings. After she dries her face off, she looks up and catches her reflection in the mirror. It’s a startling comparison. Because of her time in the fleet, she can more clearly remember her younger self, and the differences between then and now are starker.
Her lips press into a tight line as she takes stock: the bags under her eyes, her more thinned out face, the hardness around her eyes. Standing there in that bathroom, faced with nearer memories of past days, she really fully realizes just how much the years have taken a toll on her.
She sighs; she knows there’s no hiding from this. They need to know she’s awake. And whatever comes, whatever they’ll think of her now, she’ll manage. She always has. It’s all she has.
--
After she showers and gets herself dressed into fresh clothes, Riona grabs her communicator and heads for the bridge. The thought of doing this in the galley leaves her feeling too exposed, and she’s too unfamiliar with the planet to go that far out of her way. The Iskaulit is a shuttle flight away, and Riona doesn’t want to look like she’s hiding. Merely, she wants to just… position herself as best as possible.
So she settles for her pilot’s seat on the bridge. It affords a nice view, and some quiet while she mulls over what she’s going to say. It’s been so long…]
[Once she settles on her choice of words, she flicks on her device. She sticks with voice for now, not wanting to startle anyone unnecessarily.]
It seems that I’m awake.
[To those very familiar with her, they may notice a certain rougher quality to her voice, a sort of coarseness that wasn’t there before.]
Yes, yes, we all know the questions that come next: what did I miss? Has anything changed? And of course, how long have I been out? [A pause. Her tone deadpans.] I remember this place. The natives thought sudden introduction to their water to be the best way of acclimating us to their home. [Assholes.] So, it couldn’t have been for too long.
[There’s a sound, almost like a laugh.] How this place makes a mockery of time…
[Time. It’s not a luxury she has back home. Here, though, she has it in spades. It almost disconcerts her. It feels sort of wrong, that’s how unused to it she is now.]
If you so wish to see me in person, I’m on the bridge on the Blue Fish. Be mindful if you do, though. [A wry, humorless smile stretches across her face, and it’s evident in her tone.] It’s been awhile.
[And with that warning, she shuts the feed off there.]
Video
Riona had gone to sleep and woken fine before, but it seemed Atroma may not have been so kind now.
He responds later than decorum perhaps said he should, but something told him she'd be awake anyway. He hoped so, at least. He wanted to try and talk to her on his own, while the lab was quiet and empty.]
I'm glad you're back with us, I've missed your presence.
[A pause and his tone goes softer.]
Are you all right?
Voice
Facing Anders might not exactly be a kindness, either.
Her face tightens as she hears his voice over the communicator, one she has not heard in many years. One that's come to haunt her, particularly the past few years. The one she failed, the one that went to such desperate measures, and has now carved his name in infamy.
Her friend.
She inhales deeply. Of all the people she worried about facing here, he was one of the ones that gave her the most dread. Yes, she had known about what he had done before, but that was back then. Before she'd seen the fallout of his actions with her own eyes. Before the questions and accusatory glances were aimed her way. ("Wasn't he one of yours? One of those Wardens? My, whatever happened?") Before she had ten years to doubt and wonder about what she could have done, should have done.
But like everyone else, there is no avoiding him forever.]
Anders.
[Despite everything, there's a bit of a smile. She really did miss him. She's almost sorry Allen exorcised Justice before now. A part of her would have liked to talk to him, too.]
Old friend. It's been awhile.
no subject
She wore the years well, she was still just as lovely, but that sweetness and light to her were dimmed and it saddened him.]
It's only been a few weeks for me, my dear commander, so it must have been a while if you feel it. Have you caught up to us then? Did you...did you hear Corypheus' Calling?
[She was, perhaps, the only person who would be able to understand the terror and soul-crushing dread that had overwhelmed him as headaches and the ringing of that horribly beautiful song plagued him. Hawke had tried to help, he'd done so much to try and make things easier for Anders, especially when Anders knew fear had been in him too. They hadn't known the calling was fake until Hawke had spoken with Stroud.
Was it the same for her? She'd 'vanished' by all accounts, was she alone on her journey when the Calling had struck every Warden in Thedas? When he thought back to Thedas, he thought to that and how it had only just started to fade from his mind when he'd set on his journey to meet Hawke at Weisshaupt. It hadn't occurred to him yet what else she might have finally learned about first hand.
no subject
[Seeing him feels so familiar, and yet there's a sort of... foreign feel to it. It's been a short time since they last spoke, and also a very long time all at once. She's not sure what to make of it.]
Yes, I did. That...
[Had just about driven her into despair. She thought, even if just for a short time, that that was the end. She'd started making plans to go back to Denerim, to bid Alistair good-bye. Until the others reported hearing it as well. Then her agony had turned into confusion.]
Well, it was a fun time. Luckily, Nathaniel and the others hearing it prevented me from doing anything brash, unlike a certain other Warden-Commander.
[Suffice to say, she's not happy about what Clarel did.]
no subject
Well, no, that wasn't very fair. He'd never agree with what the Orlisian Warden-Commander had done, blood magic was never the answer, but it was the fact Corephyus had caused everything that had drove Hawke on some sort of misguided redemption mission.
But he doesn't want to go back down that trail of thought, it didn't matter now, Hawke had come back alive and well and that was all that mattered.]
Have you seen them all recently? How are they doing?
[Maker, thinking on Nathaniel and the others isn't much of an improvement. He missed that lot terribly. He'd seen Nate more recently than the others, at least, but it had still been three years ago now. Before Kirkwall had burned.]
no subject
[Riona feared what might happen to them at the time, but given what happened with the Fereldan Wardens getting dragged into Clarel's mess, she's now quite glad those four were with her.]
If you ever crawl out of hiding, I might just drag you along, too.
no subject
If he'd been killed in Kirkwall as he'd planned, as had happened in Leliana's version of things, surly Riona of all people would know about it. No, more than likely, he was simply hiding out somewhere, perhaps visiting the other Circle towers alone instead of with Hawke or trying to find his atonement in the presence of a small town that would not turn away the help of a real healer.]
If I knew you needed me, commander, I would be there without hesitation. There are few who equal how important you are to me.
[He hesitated, but didn't glance away as the realization actually registered that she must now truly know the nature of what he did. Not just that, but how that spark in Kirkwall had set Thedas ablaze. Now that she'd seen it...had anything changed? Surely it had. Riona was a pious enough woman, they'd never talked much about religion except once or twice. But he suspected the pain the pain he felt for his own actions would be in her as well, even if that was the last thing he wished for her.]
The question remaining is whether you would now have me if I showed up.
no subject
There would be the issue of what Nathaniel and the others thought. Their stances on Anders' actions vary wildly. An argument would no doubt break out over it, and she'd be in the middle, mediating it as always.
And then there's her, and the very mixed feelings she had over the matter.]
There would have to be a conversation about the events that transpired first, most certainly. One I think we need to have here, as well. Though I think it should be done in person.