tɦɛ iɳquiรitѳʀ (freemarched) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-03-22 19:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, leliana, maxwell trevelyan (the inquisitor) |
Who: Trevelyan & Leliana (with Bella Nutella at the beginning)
What: Meeting with the Adviser he doesn't know is an Adviser yet, so she can explain some shit
When: Tonight?
Where: Leli and Gale's house
Rating/Warnings: Eh, not too much
Status: Complete
He hadn’t had another dream in awhile, but that didn’t stop the ominous feeling from settling over him like a raincloud that followed everywhere - also didn’t help that Max had been to Leandra’s funeral, and what led to that was apparently the worst crossover to end all crossovers. Hawke was someone he didn’t know entirely well, but the times Max had met the man he liked him, and thought it was proper to pay his respects and express his sympathy. Besides, they both dreamed of being a mage in Thedas, a world where advancements in magical research were squelched because the Chantry forbade it whereas others in the world thrived. Fear of magic was promoted, every social ill blamed on the craft - mages weren’t even allowed to practice their talents outside the Circles. It was a stifling world, and he felt as if it belonged where it was - bleeding through, well, he could sympathize with how awful that was even if he had never lost a parent. At least not in terms of death. The jumble of thoughts was why he went to Leliana’s place - from the first time they talked, she’d offered an interesting perspective and he had a feeling that they’d be sticking together a lot more as his own dreams progressed. With him, he brought a bottle of a vin doux naturel for them to plow through - it was floral and refreshing, and the type that when you caught a whiff of the aroma, you’d just want to swim around in a large glass of it. Usually he liked red wines, but that rich upbringing (such as it was) meant that he’d developed a taste for good alcohol (and fine things) in general. Knocking on the door brought along the sounds of a dog barking, something excited - then the reveal of the giant, who attempted to calm that very rambunctious chocolate lab. “Tella, no,” Gale admonished her when she leaped to slobber on their guest. But he saw the wine and that was pretty telling - being that he was more a beer drinker (or fireball whiskey, for those special drunken occasions). “Leli, it’s for you.” Bella Nutella was possibly a much better security alarm system than what she had installed in the house (a former clandestine mistress would always be prepared, regardless of retirement), and Leliana had heard it from the back - outside in particular, where the back patio had been somewhat converted as an aviary to hold the messenger ravens. Baron Plucky, Countess Lune, Bonbon. All three of them transcended the thinning veil of realities with their training ingrained, but it was important to continue to keep them stimulated and bonded with her - they were gorgeous birds, feathers so lustrous as if they were dipped in oil, and their deep and throaty kraaaas were oddly comforting. To others, well. Perhaps a bit unsettling, and Leliana wouldn’t deny that she enjoyed giving that chill to people’s bones every once in awhile. “Is it Cindy? She borrowed my pair of - oh.” Oh. No, nevermind. Certainly wasn’t her baby bird, but Maxwell’s appearance conjured a ghost of a smile from the French dame. Her hair was braided to the side tonight, and a buttoned shirt-dress was the choice of leisure wear for tonight (along with her soldier’s tags, of course) - she and Gale didn’t have any plans, but the lack of pants always presented a chance for a little side recreation. “Trevelyan! It’s good to see you. This is Gale, by the way.” Her leg stretched behind her to shut the back door, in case the birds got a little curious and flew in. “Come in, come in.” It was still a little strange being referred to by his surname, but those who dreamed of Thedas tended to go about it like that - Max was getting used to it, even if he wasn’t sure what it all meant in the scheme of things. But perhaps Leliana could shed some light on the subject. “Thanks,” he smiled to her insistence that he come inside, followed up with a good to meet you to her towering boyfriend, pleasantries exchanged. “I’ll take her for a walk,” Gale added, since Tella seemed to be in the mood to expel energy. Judging by the way she was twirling with excitement and chasing her own tail, that is. Besides, this was probably going to be dream talk and he didn’t want to intrude, so he’d give them space. Bella Nutella’s leash was retrieved from the laundry room and he clipped it on the boisterous, gangly grown puppy, managing to grab a bag for scooping poop from neighbors yards just in case, and then he shut the front door behind him. Max chuckled fondly at the dog’s antics, offering the bottle of wine. “If it’s a bad time, I can come back? We can drink this later.” Well, there were other things instinct told her to call him - one minute it was The Herald, another it was The Inquisitor. Trevelyan was what he was called during more personal discussions, but it was always a little odd how no one really called him by his first name, no? Same with Hawke. And the Warden had always been The Warden. Hardly anything else! An odd observation, surely, but at least she thought it was somewhat valid. “No, not at all,” she promised, and took the bottle with admiring eyes. Naturally sweet wine. It’s as if he knew her so well already, didn’t he? Leliana led him to the kitchen, one that was very cute in a ‘shabby chic’ sort of way - chalk paint with that vintage finish, colors of off-white and very light turquoise. Flowers planted in teacups were in the window sill, and the cabinets all had glass doors. “I’m going to assume you wish to talk about something, considering your choice of gift.” Alcohol was usually the beginning to an important discussion. Nightingale was aware of his dreams starting; she may be quiet but she watched the network closely, and had tabs on those of interest. Trevelyan included. But she pulled the colored goblets from the shelves and fished for a corkscrew so the pouring could begin. The decor seemed to suit her, judging by what Max could deduce about Leliana’s personality - though the Hello Kitty toaster was an interesting touch, that was for certain. Made him lift an eyebrow, amused, but he followed along and leaned against the counter as she found the corkscrew. “Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind answering questions or sharing what you know,” he said. Perhaps not everything, because there were some aspects that he simply had to dream on his own, in time, but a few little tidbits might be nice. Dorian obviously knew things but he wasn’t talking - not that Max was surprised. But he wouldn’t think about that, or the man himself, right now. “All I was told was that I am fighting for a cause later on - which sort of boggles me, because I’m not exactly in any position to be doing that.” Not as a sheltered mage who was simply trying to survive, after his Circle’s attempts to remain neutral in the burgeoning war sort of went sideways. “Only other person around these parts who could perhaps tell you that would be…” Hm, well. Dorian, of course. The Tevinter Mage. That was another web of potential complications, but there were other pressing matters to attend to - particularly the breach in the veil, the issue with his hand. Leliana didn’t finish her sentence; she supposed maybe he’d caught on about who she was going to name. Wine poured, she offered him a green glass goblet. Hers was a lavender. “People have speculated whether or not your position in things is by fate or chance. In my opinion, a bit of both. You’ve impeccable timing in regards to the very start of it.” Their meeting could be considered rocky. Or more towards Cassandra’s behalf - she went on about things with a little more violence and a lot less tact. A bull that always saw red. “If it eases your mind you do very well despite the circumstances. But we can begin with your questions - in the living room?” It was comfier there, and she’d bring the bottle. The nugs were all sleeping in their beds. They wouldn’t snuff around for attention too much. Oh, Max picked up on the potential mention of Dorian. His lips pursed, and he tried not to show what he was really thinking in that regard - it was mostly a tumultuous flip of his stomach like a washer load off balance, because something was strange there (and it wasn’t just the pangs of longing he felt for some reason, and the irrational irritation about a boyfriend being in the picture). But he nodded, “Living room,” was the agreement and that sounded fine to him. He didn’t want to talk about Dorian right now - maybe some other time, just...not right now. He curled his hands around the wine glass once he was sitting, lifting the goblet to take a sip after sloshing - it was good, the aroma as enticing as he knew it would be. “It does ease my mind, I suppose, to know how well I do - I’ve never really considered myself something extraordinary but I’d just like to know what exactly I’m in for.” And if he’d succeeded, he probably didn’t do it on his own - no man was an island. Maybe Max took the reigns of whatever this was (or forced to, whichever) but he was only one mage and not a whole army. His charm and skill could only go so far when building connections, gathering allies, and saving Thedas, if that indeed was what happened. Leliana was a fan of aromatherapy, hence the incense - lavender helped ease stress and anxiety, especially since they’d been recently winding down from past events. It also helped with the smell of dog and nug. Their home was a zoo, but in the name of everything holy she would she make sure nothing reeked of animal, and that the floors and upholstery remained flawless (which also meant most of the time was spent treating muddy prints). “Politics mixed with what was once considered a potential end of times,” explained the redhead and took the spot next to him, tucking her bare feet underneath her bum. “As I’m sure you know, things escalated after Kirkwall. Mages versus templars - the divide was immense, and efforts were being put forth at an attempted alliance.” Hence the Divine Conclave, where people had hopes that some kind of truce - albeit likely temporary - would be made for a moment of peace. But in truth that’s where it had all began when it came to the breach in the sky. Trevelyan was the only survivor of that incident and because of it, was gifted with something...peculiar. Perhaps he could see the curious look at his arm, and she offered her palm. “Has your hand been bothering you?” “Things are...definitely escalating, yes.” The Mage-Templar war had just broken out, Kirkwall being the powder keg that it was. Now the lit match had been tossed into gasoline and they all knew what happened next. “The Templars are after mages who have cut loose from the Circles even more aggressively now - my own Circle fell, after a period of attempting to remain neutral. But of course it didn’t stay that way for long.” Judging by who his family was, and the influence the Trevelyan’s had within the ranks of the Chantry (they’d always been pious) he guessed that he’d be called upon as a representative of sorts. To do something, in an effort to put the flames of war. Max wasn’t sure how that would go but he was guessing it snowballed into something bigger. “My hand?” He flexed his fingers, placing that left into Leliana’s open palm. “Sort of. It’s mostly my arm though. The elbow joint aches a lot, usually when the weather’s bad. Why?” The concept of neutrality wasn’t a luxury people could afford in Thedas. You were either for mage rights, or you weren’t, and perhaps people could argue that it all could be reformed and the laws in place, but Leliana knew it’d lead to future tensions. Her views as Divine Victoria were considered radical, but if wanting equality for all - mages, elves, dwarves, qunari included - made her a ‘radical’ then…oh well. A description she’d proudly take. Leliana didn’t say anything about his hand yet as she examined it - but she continued on. “Divine Justinia had a back up. Should attempts at a truce fail at the Conclave, we would call an Inquisition. We sought out leaders for it. Hero of Ferelden, then Hawke. Neither we could track. And before anything could happen it all quite literally exploded. Everyone in the Conclave had been killed, except for you.” It was gentle, the way she folded his fingers into his palm. “What happened tore a massive rift in the Fade, and you’d been given a mark that was meant to close it. On this very hand.” Let that sink in first, no? It was a lot to take in. It all started with trying to ease the flames of war to something world-wide, so very dangerous and shattering to their world’s very existence. If the mark came, then so would the breach. The two went hand in hand (no pun intended?). His hand. There was a mark on his hand meant to close a rift - a tear in the Veil, separating the Fade from the waking world, and that sounded bad. Because Max knew what lurked in the Fade - dreams, nightmares, demons, Abominations, spirits. It was a whole sort of metaphysical thing, and a tear meant that all which was not supposed to fall in the waking world damn well would. How unsettling. His fingers twitched, as if that peculiar magic not meant for mortals to wield flowed through the digits right at this moment. It didn’t, of course. But it would come. “I guess that’s the cause,” he observed, remembering what Dorian had said. “And people come together, to join me, to help me close the rift? Maybe it was Fate, then. If it was me who survived - and the others couldn’t be tracked.” Or he was just third choice. No Hero of Ferelden, no Champion of Kirkwall - just a mage from a noble family, about to be thrust right into a leadership position. About to embark on quite an adventure. “An attempt to save Thedas all while dealing with the political ramifications of the actions that follow, yes,” Leliana confirmed, smiling sympathetically. It was war. Not only did they have to deal with things like military force, diplomacy and secrecy, but there were demons pouring out of holes and Corypheus, who planned on ripping apart the world with magic. It was a struggle on all ends. “That’s the cause. And it’s never easy. The path’s riddled with decisions and consequences, but you grow into the role well. You were exactly what the Inquisition needed.” It was then she took a sip of that decadent wine, and she let it sit on her tongue before swallowing. “But things bleed over in all the worst ways. It’s a fact. I’ve been here long enough to see a variety, and I can already tell your appearance here will yield some...interesting results.” Not that Orange County hadn’t seen demons before, or what seemed like the apocalypse, but he wasn’t alone. She’d been one of his advisors on the other side, providing input - even a little guidance - throughout all that occurred. Maxwell was easily another one of her baby birds. Political ramifications. Right, surely an Inquisition would need support from a few corners - and considering what a hot mess southern Thedas currently was, well, that looked to be a challenge. Not like Max would have considered himself exactly what an Inquisition of that caliber needed, but Leliana had already dreamed it - so he’d take her word for it. In a sense, he was actually intrigued by how it would play out - mostly because he never really felt close to his family-by-blood. Maybe this was a chance to build a new one under strained circumstances. It’d be a challenge. There were prejudices and preconceived notions and beliefs about other classes and races firmly ingrained for some people. However, if the problem at hand was something as serious as a hole in the Veil, then those petty prejudices would have to be shelved. “So you’re saying that there will be a tear in this Veil too,” he surmised. “Because of me?” That was a lot to swallow. He’d start with a gulp of that wine, to prep him for it. “I...obviously don’t have a mark yet and I guess it’s too much to hope that I’d get passed over - probably better to assume the worst.” “We all learn to assume the worst, and perhaps it won’t happen, but whatever may, you will not be alone,” Leliana firmly promised. “If it isn’t something of our world, it’s always someone else’s.” Really, she’d heard up the grapevine that a potential alien invasion was in the horizon. As long as this place kept attracting dreamers, the cycle of things bleeding over would never end. Only time would tell with theirs. But they were a resilient sort, the residents here - many of them had endured devastating change, even death, yet managed to thrive regardless. “I don’t know if that’s answered any questions or eased any concerns, but the least I can do is give you a warning of what may come. And what could happen to you.” Oh, if he was lucky enough to be chosen to wield that mark and close the rift, then Max would assume he’d be just as lucky in this life, and thus wouldn’t escape...a repeat. Joy upon joys. “I appreciate the warning,” he said sincerely, sipping on the wine. As opposed to a gulp this time, but. “And it actually did answer a few questions I had. I wanted to know where I could possibly go after the war broke out - now I see it’s more complicated than I envisioned.” But it wasn’t like he had any idea where to start, so to have someone who already dreamed it give him a little snippet of what was to come was helpful. “I also didn’t expect answers to everything either. Because I suppose there are some things that I have to dream for myself.” “That there are,” she alluded, then took a bit of a large sip of her wine as both eyebrows rose. A whole relationship to dream of, too, which could be a little odd in the beginning. Picking apart feelings and sorting them out, because those emotions were still very real - but Maxwell would adapt. Go down a different path, perhaps, just as she did. Sometimes some things in this life didn’t actually mirror what happened on the other side. Leliana’s fingers wrapped around the chain of tags around her neck. “How are you adjusting, by the way? With life here? You’ve made friends?” It wasn’t difficult to get attached to people here or run into figures of the past. It’s how she came here and exactly how she took root here, too. It was usually him asking the questions about adjustment, and Trevelyan smiled wryly. But he was an advocate for therapy for everyone, even those who were licensed to practice - because the way he looked at it, he wouldn’t ever dream of asking his clients to go through a process he wouldn’t be willing to undertake himself. And it was so important, to be on that other side of the chair, so to speak. As a trainee, he’d been required to do at least a year of therapy and it was an interesting experience - not to mention how easy to was to fool yourself into believing you didn’t have any issues, and were perfectly self-aware. Maybe having these dreams would put him back into therapy. It was highly possible. “Been making friends and ran into old ones,” he nodded. “So it’s been good so far. My house is coming along nicely too, it’s about finished so I’ll be sticking around. I really can’t envision leaving even if...I might regret that later, when it brings trouble for everyone else.” Not like he wanted to be responsible for a tear in the Veil - but he supposed that was the risk of starting a life here, and those who had seemed to be willing to accept those risks. He glanced around, at the homey space, the nugs sleeping in the corner. “You seem to have settled nicely too?” If it wasn’t the Breach, it’d be the Blight, judging from the presence of two Grey Wardens. But guilt was a natural emotion to have even if logic (as much as one could have in explaining these occurrences) disagreed - no one asked for their dreams to affect everyone else. It merely did. Mercilessly and without question. “I’ll have to bring you something when it is all complete,” Leliana smiled again. Probably something a little better than her Pinterest failures, but she helped Zatanna with a baby shower and everything didn’t come out atrocious, so there was hope. A dim glimmer of it. “But everything here is well. I mostly...retired from a career, and we’ve been taking it as easy as one could around here.” This place had given her the closest thing to something of a normal life; there weren’t anymore assassinations, or kidnappings, or blackmailing she partook in. Just running a shoe store, browsing on Pinterest, and tending to animals. A little bit of making Gale watch romantic comedies, too, but he was such a good sport about it. “Retired?” Max lifted an eyebrow. That was an interesting choice of words - Leliana seemed young, far too young to retire. At least, when you considered it in terms of kicking back on a beach somewhere and playing shuffleboard on cruise ships. “Well, I’m glad you seem to be happy - you’ve got a store to run too, and I’m guessing that takes up a fair amount of time.” He wasn’t sure what living here would entail, but he hoped that he could be just as content one day. Oddly enough, it wasn’t like he had doubts about making the decision to settle here even after hearing about what had the potential to go wrong. Orange County was right, in its own special way. And damn his arm for starting to ache again, in that foreboding way. Maybe if he drank more, it’d help. “I also can’t do magic yet, but...we’ll see how that plays out. At least I won’t get locked away in a Circle here.” Retired was the best word for it. Leliana did feel old, though it must be the wear and tear of that sort of lifestyle. It always aged you a bit more, didn’t it? But she had transitioned into the world of shoe retail seamlessly - the boutique style of it suited her best, the little footwear snob she was. “Doing something mundane to balance out all the things in our lives that aren’t helps with things. It’s...refreshing, I suppose?” He had an entire career for him and a helpful one. Especially here. Maker’s breath, this whole place was a goldmine for people with issues. “But the magic will come to you, like everything else will.” There was a motion of her hands to the pile of sleeping nugs, and the elegant recurve hoisted on the wall for decor. “You might have some growing pain accidents, but this place has an entire mage community. Very supportive. You’ll fit in nicely.” Not to mention people with the magic hailing from Thedas existed here; he had common grounds to stand on. “That makes sense. I guess you can sort of begin to develop a new appreciation for what’s considered mundane, after living here awhile,” he chuckled, draining the wine in his glass. And since the bottle was right here, Max poured them both a little more in goblet as well - you know, to top them off. “I’m also glad to hear that the mage community is supportive - you remember what it was like, we didn’t really get that.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to join up with anything, if there was even anything to join, but he would see what other people were doing and how they fit into the scheme of things - if he could chat with others who had that connection to magic, it would be helpful for him too. Hawke seemed to have magical skill, and then there was Dorian - but again, that sort of put a twist in his stomach. It might be too painful, and Trevelyan knew that didn’t make sense. But that’s how it was. “I really appreciate the talk, with the wine and the inviting me over,” he smiled warmly. “I’m sure we were allies there, but consider me one here too.” Good thing there were no official regulations on magic users. It was only a tiny pocket of people, barely a blip on the world’s radar, and if the county-wide bleedovers were being glossed over with some kind of an excuse the isolated incidents weren’t much of a problem. Thedas was merely another kind of beast when it came to how it worked, and Leliana worked hard to make sure to rip old traditions asunder and replace them anew. Something more progressive, because the times were changing and Thedas needed to, kindly, catch the fuck up. Thedosian politics were a rant for another day. With something a little stronger than wine. “There is a part of me that missed that precious puppy face of yours,” Nightingale smirked. “Everyone here tends to have somewhat different versions of how things went, but I am pleased to know you seem to be a constant. It’s good to meet you in this life, too.” Her goblet clinked against his - a toast, to whatever may come. Even if it was a hole in the sky. |