falinabjyr (falinabjyr) wrote in thedas, @ 2010-01-30 13:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! thread, & 9:45 (4) eluviesta, @ falina bjyr, @ rhocanth garal |
backscene: pattering of feet
Who: Falina Bjyr, Rhocanth Garal
Where: Chantry, Lothering
When: The final week of Eluviesta, a few days before the arrival at the Brec. Forest, 9:45 Dragon
Summary: [Complete] Rolling storms have taken the dwarf party by surprise, and they find refuge in the Chantry at Lothering. Falina has been struggling with her status as a potential new Grey Warden, and her role within the party dynamic. Rhocanth struggles moving past his own sense of loss.
Rating: T. Possible language.
~*~
They reached Lothering within a few more days' riding, and were forced to take shelter inside the Chantry as the drizzle quickened into a pounding rain. The storm had been so thick and dark that it blotted out the sun, and by the time the group managed to reach the reconstructed trading post, it was difficult to tell what time of day it was. By evening, the howling winds had died down along with the rumbling thunder that shook the entire structure, but it was still too dark and too wet to leave. When dawn came around the next morning, the clouds had cleared completely, but the roads had not. -Ser Talfryn Armstead
~ * ~
Days on the road proved difficult, long stretches of daylight that burnt against her skin. The trails of grass and dirt seemed endless, every inch of earth served to prove how unready for the surface she had been. Amaranthine was leagues and days away, and for all she knew, it was at the end of the map. Cormac had laughed when she asked how much surface there was. “Squeak, there is more than you will ever get to see.”
Most of her time was spent in the company of Cormac or Coan. Falina still couldn’t entirely place her trust in the Wardens; their secretive and elusive nature left her feeling disconnected. Everything was explained with either a legend or a ‘you’ll see’. It was unsettling, but likely Falina wouldn’t have made it this far without them, so she stayed.
The Legionnaires kept to their charge, and Falina was tight-lipped in their company, too starry eyed with hero worship, too afraid to prove herself foolish around them. Rhocanth reached out to her a few times, just as lost as she was. He offered her gentle, warm smiles, some words of hope and encouragement, and even promises of protection, but she didn’t need a brother. She had one, and with him dead, Falina wasn’t looking for another.
The storms came quickly, fat droplets of rain spattering across Falina’s cloaked cheek. The black clouds where thick overhead, entirely unlike the wispy white. They were far more ominous, portents of a storm that proved not unlike a reckoning.
The Chantry offered them quick refuge, and Falina was unsure if it was simply the church’s nature, or it was because of their Warden-Commander. Their caravan was fed, offered water for cleaning, and given beds. The storm raged brutally overhead, crashing thunder, the likeness Falina had never heard. It crackled the air, hollowed her stomach, and when it was close, shook everything.
She slept through the majority of it, a habit that Cormac told her upon her waking, they needed to break immediately. Sleeping through a maelstrom like that would prove too dangerous on the road. Falina laughed; days ago she’d had trouble sleeping on the surface, now she was grateful for the rest, an earned reprieve from hours of walking.
Everyone was sleeping and her company was the sweeping, peaceful quiet that Falina missed about the Carta Compound. The book in her hands was several inches thick, heavy. Her fingers trailed over the leather cover, traced the pressed gold-leaf insignia, following every last imprinted embellishment. She briefly wondered what the book said, if it was somehow important. What possibly needed said that required so many pages?
The stone tile was cool against her feet, and she spread out her toes, wriggling them as she walked, soothing the arches. Falina fluttered the pages, the air fanning against her cheek, as she headed quietly to her removed perch.
The alcove was well removed from her sleeping companions. Falina wanted to sit near the window, and from a distance, the sill looked more than wide enough. She approached her makeshift stool, plopping the red tome on top of the stack she’d braced against the stone wall. It was the last few inches of height that she needed, and rested only an inch above her knee.
She gripped the edge of the window sill, placing her barefoot firmly in the center of the book stack. Falina clambered up her other foot, and with her height advantage, her hips brushed the stone. She smiled triumphantly; there was more than enough room for her to sit comfortably. She pitched forward, pulling her weight, until she found herself settling contentedly, her back against the stone curve of the window.
The rain was still falling, not as heavy as before. Black sky shown through the glass, but from this close she saw the cascading droplets; some flowed downward like rivers, some spattered randomly against the fogging glass.
She tucked her knees against her chest, and listened to the approaching footsteps.