[sandbox] out of the abyss

[bringspeopletogether]

It starts as a shimmer out by the lake. Look at the water from the right angle, and the light glinting off it looks a bit...green. Sickly.

(Familiar, if you're from a certain time and place in Thedas.)

Look up some minutes later, and you can pinpoint the source: a thin, glowing ribbon uncoiling in the sky. It emerges slowly, but the more light it casts, the more momentum it gains, until it explodes outward with an enormous crack like lightning splintering the ground.

A much quieter thump follows as something hits the dirt.

Someone.

The glow vanishes; the person doesn't move for a long beat. (Get up, he's telling himself, get up -- ) He manages to drag his hands level with his shoulders, press down to bear himself upward an inch, look up at where he's landed.

Get. Up.

Another shove, and Alistair lurches to his feet, sword hauled from its scabbard and shield at the ready. His breath rattles, harsh against his throat, as he stares wild-eyed around the grounds.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen, inside, in an armchair by the window, knows what that is. And knows that any Fade rift might spawn demons. Better to have them addressed by someone who knows what they are.

This thought process happens in about a second, after which Cullen is on his way out the door, longsword in hand. Only at that point does he notice --

Demons don't wear Warden armor.




His steps slow, and slow, and stop.


"You were gone," Cullen says, from about ten feet away. "You stayed behind."

[bringspeopletogether]

That's --

That's new, he thinks, distantly. They've thrown a lot of familiar faces at him. Hardly ever Cullen, though, the last time that happened was -- was however long ago it was.

It's so quiet. It's bright. He can hear and see the demon quite clearly.

Good.

He gathers the reserves of his strength, bares his teeth, and charges.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Alistair -- "

That's all he says, because then instinct takes over. Alistair has a shield, and Cullen doesn't; the shield is a weapon, and one more dangerous to him than Alistair's sword at the moment.

Besides that, there's no evidence that says he ought to be attacking Alistair at this point.

Cullen waits until the last possible moment, and then turns aside -- something like a bullfighter's move. "Alistair. I'm not going to fight you."

[bringspeopletogether]

He doesn't see the feint coming, but he also doesn't get more than a couple steps past the demon before spinning around to correct his course. His sword follows through the same arc, aimed for its shoulder.

(Clumsily; he's stumbling a little. Alistair's lost all finesse Warden training might have offered. He doesn't care how he fells the enemy, just that it happens, just that he stays upright and keeps fighting.)

[howtoactfereldan]

It's an easy parry, especially given how Alistair's moving. "Alistair, listen to me. I'm not fighting." He circles, moving in a broad arc away from the Warden. "Do you know where you are?"

Dangerous to let any other thing draw his focus, given how single-minded Alistair seems to be on violence, but Cullen nonetheless finds himself looking for signs of injury. How long was he in there --

[bringspeopletogether]

What --

Alistair shakes his head, like he's trying to drive away a troublesome fly. Know where he is, of course he knows where he is, why would --

It's trying to make him think he's escaped. That -- that explains the brightness, the coherency to the terrain. Oh.

But it's also sticking to its word so far (whatever that may be worth) and isn't driving forward to attack. Alistair doesn't fall back, doesn't lower his weapon, but he does grow still, chest heaving as he locks eyes with the creature wearing Cullen's likeness.

[howtoactfereldan]

Well. That's something.

Cullen stills, lowering his sword.

"Alistair," he says again, quieter. "This is Milliways. Not Adamant. Not the Fade. Do you understand?"

[bringspeopletogether]

A desperate snarl: "Stop."

His grip tightens on both shield and sword.

[howtoactfereldan]

So... that's a no on the understanding.

And Cullen knows -- the worst possible thing he can do is push.

It takes a lot of will, but Cullen makes himself let out a long breath, shoulders relaxing. He doesn't break his gaze.

[bringspeopletogether]

It's not moving. Is it trying to lure him close enough for an attack? Is this another damned variation on seeing his friends die by his own hand?

At least it's not pretending to be Duncan this time. That was particularly bad.

Harshly, "What do you want?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Nothing." Still quiet. Still calm. "Not a thing."

Breathe in. Out.

"You could turn and see if you can spy the Black City. Point it out to me."

[bringspeopletogether]

Ah. Alistair's expression hardens. That's how it plans to get him to turn his back, then.

He doesn't do anything so stupid as look over his shoulder, but he breaks eye contact for an instant, lifting his gaze to the sky beyond Cullen. There's nothing. Just mountains.

Could the demon root so deeply into his mind that it obscures the Black City? He doesn't know. He doesn't remember.

(The tip of his sword wavers: his hands have begun to tremble with exhaustion.)

[howtoactfereldan]

"If this were the Fade, you could see the Black City." Steady. "From wherever you stand. But it's not there at all. This isn't the Fade. It's Milliways."

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen and Liranan, coming around the lake, fall into defensive postures almost immediately when the feel of the Fade -- brief though it may be -- crosses their senses.

How a rift opened here --

That is a question for another time. Except --

"Alistair?"

[bringspeopletogether]

He whirls toward the voice, teeth bared in a soundless snarl.

He knows that voice. They like to throw it at him when they're especially bored. (If demons can even feel boredom.) Lots you can do with someone who knows every detail about you while you know far less about them.

Ysa -- the demon wearing Ysa's face -- is just far enough away to dissuade him from immediately charging toward it. He can take a couple seconds. Just enough to breathe. Then he'll keep going.

[freedom_is_grey]

She looks wary, given that Alistair is not smiling, or joking, or even heading in her direction in hopes of a healing poultice.

"Are you all right?"

At her side, Liranan growls, hackles raised.

[bringspeopletogether]

At the growl, something seems to snap in Alistair's bearing. Distance be damned, that's the sound of an incoming attack, and he'll react accordingly.

With a yell, he sprints headlong toward Ysa and Liranan.

[freedom_is_grey]

Well, that's --

Bad.

Ysalwen's reaction is almost instantaneous. She reaches out one hand, muttering syllables under her breath and --

Around her usual shields, a second shielding spell springs to life. It pushes back against Alistair's charge and shoves him back and away.

Hard.

[bringspeopletogether]

No. No --

Alistair stumbles, nearly going down on one knee; his snarl reaches a full-throated yell of rage as he heaves himself upright. He will not wait for the demon to corner him and slice him to ribbons. Not now. His sacrifice does not end here.

He shuts his eyes, chest heaving.

Some templar abilities don't require lyrium: just focus, and will, and occasionally the right twist of luck. Considering Alistair's spent over a decade out of the Order, it's probably more luck than not nowadays.

But Ysa can feel the dampening, deadening creep of a templar striving to dispel her magic.

[freedom_is_grey]

The attack comes not from the front, but from the side.

From the now very angry mabari that possibly Alistair didn't know was there.

Stop doing that to Ysa!

(Ysa, meanwhile, swaps her staff for her sword, which is largely the point of having the blasted thing to begin with. Shit.)

"Alistair, stop it, it's me!"

[bringspeopletogether]

They always say that, and it never is. By now, the phrase has become little more than background noise.

He's put so much of his focus on the first demon that he doesn't anticipate the attack from the second one -- and this time, with no way to brace himself, Alistair hits the ground hard. His hand spasms open, releasing the sword.

Then his hand closes again as, without a second's hesitation, he swings wildly at Liranan with fists, knees, and feet.

[freedom_is_grey]

Yes, that's fine. Liranan will just grab Alistair's wrist and worry it, keeping him busy and pinned until Ysa is better!

Hurry, Ysa!

He does not want to actually draw blood! Right?

"Alistair, what are you -- "

She raises her voice to a shout.

"For the love of Andraste and all that is holy, Alistair, WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO HURT MY DOG??"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair heaves his arm upward and twists his whole body to the side, trying to shake off the dog-demon. It doesn't work. There's too much weight for him to throw, and it's going after him with utter singlemindedness.

Except...it's not going for his throat. It's not even drawing blood.

What --

He keeps trying to yank his arm free, but the look on his face has begun to shift from battle rage to something wilder, more panicked.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Stop," Ysa says, voice thick and a little scraped after that yell.

"Please, stop. Alistair, you're in Milliways, it's all right. Please."

Liranan does not let up, at least not yet.

"Did you get hit with Confusion or something on your way here?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Only one word of that sentence lodges in his mind: Milliways.

They haven't done that in a while. Not that he can remember. It's always Adamant, Skyhold, occasionally his old Warden barracks. Sometimes it's even a camp somewhere in Ferelden, ten years ago; a soft insistence from his comrades that the last decade was just a bad dream.

So that explains why they've chosen Ysa's face this time.

"If you won't kill me, get off me," he snarls at Liranan. If his own voice sounds like he's done nothing but scream at the top of his lungs for two months straight...well, there are reasons for that.