[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

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair...actually grasps more of that than he expected.

But not all of it. That's the important part. Gradually, the rapid flutter of his heartbeat eases back; the weight on his chest lifts. He makes himself draw a deep breath as the unfamiliar words settle into his mind.

His eyes have started to burn.

Another breath, shakier, and he looks up at Ysa. "You're real. Aren't you."

[freedom_is_grey]

"Yes."

Her smile is tiny and crooked and a little bit rueful.

"Sorry to disappoint."

[bringspeopletogether]

A harsh noise escapes Alistair; he tries to stifle it with the side of his hand, with little success. His eyes well up as he stares at Ysa.

"I'm -- " His voice cracks.

I'm alive.

"I'm out."

[freedom_is_grey]

"You are."

Um. Well.

"Do you -- we could hug, if you wanted? And then no one could see you cry."

And, well.

"And you know I would burn anything that tried to touch you to a cinder. So."

[bringspeopletogether]

He nods, helplessly.

(Ysa gives good hugs. He remembers. And -- he's starved in other ways, inside the Fade. No touch that wasn't a battle blow for Maker knows how long. Like the thirst, the mere suggestion makes him realize how badly he needs that sort of comfort.)

[freedom_is_grey]

"All right."

Her voice is quiet, now, even as she settles next to him and tugs his head down to her shoulder.

Hugging time.

She can keep this up for an hour. At least.

[bringspeopletogether]

Hopefully, Alistair won't need an hour to pull himself together.

Wrapping both arms around Ysa, he buries his face against her shoulder, trying in vain not to get her shirt too damp. His own shoulders shake -- even he's not sure, at first, whether it's relieved laughter or sobs he can't manage to contain.

Around each one, more words emerge.

"I'm alive. I'm alive."

[freedom_is_grey]

"You are. You really are."

Ysa's voice is quiet.

"I am, too. And Liranan. If there was ever any doubt."

Liranan rumbles quietly, stretching himself out along the floor.

[bringspeopletogether]

One of those not-quite sobs turns into a hiccup of laughter. He fists part of her shirt in on hand, as if trying to anchor himself further.

For a while, that's all he can manage: the whispered litany -- I'm alive. I'm out. -- and his hold on Ysa. Nothing's coming for him; at least, not right now. If he can't relax entirely, at least he can let himself feel the flood of relief, no matter how close it comes to sweeping him away altogether.

Alistair loses track of how long he holds onto her. Eventually, though, his shoulders stop shaking. It feels safe enough, then, to pull back and scrub a hand over his eyes.

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysa just rubs his back in long, firm strokes -- a little like she does for Kieran when his heart is broken.

She stays silent.

And when Alistair pulls back, she hands him a square of soft cloth.

[bringspeopletogether]

It's -- it's so absurd. All of this. That he's here at all, that he's breaking down like a child in the middle of the tavern, that -- after all this -- the simple gesture of Ysa offering him a cloth to wipe his face should nearly make him start crying again.

Alistair manages to get the next noise twisted into a choked laugh. He accepts the cloth. Rubs at his eyes as he mumbles, "Thank you."

[freedom_is_grey]

"You're welcome. I'm -- sorry things happened this way. Not that that helps, any. But still."

This is so very, very awkward.

And terrible.

The future --

Well.

[bringspeopletogether]

"It's all right."

The cloth comes back with a few dark smudges on it. Alistair blinks at them, then, tentatively, scrubs at his forehead a few times before glancing at the cloth again.

"...Maker, I need a bath, don't I," he mutters.

[freedom_is_grey]

"I hate to say it," Ysalwen says, a little wryly. Maybe she's testing the metaphorical waters. "But possibly you need two."