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Thranduil.

[ There he is -- he looks the same, though the surroundings are new. At least he is not corrupted with red lyrium, not dead, not a prisoner. The statue smiles softly, inclines its head; yes, it's him. ]

None of us who went to Haven on the mission died, as you all thought we did. There must have been something wrong with the Veil between this world and the Fade; I've seen it in my own world, places where large works of magic have made the Void bleed in, have made time go back and forth.

This is a future, [ a, not the, because he has no intention of letting it get like this ] and we are from your past. We were shoved forward in time against our will. We're in Kirkwall, at the moment, having been captured. I suspect we will be making quite a bit of noise and then heading toward where the rest of the Inquisition is soon.

[ The statue stills for a moment, and then one hand comes up, rubs at the back of its neck. It's a hasty explanation, though no less true. It does not truly give weight to the emotions, the harshness of this present -- but to be fair, the Outsider often doesn't do that even when he has the time to do so. ]

Whatever you are doing -- we must get back to Haven. This can be changed.

[ he settles back against the aravel's side, brows raised. it speaks with the outsider's voice, the mannerisms are his. he has not forgotten the outsider, how he moved, how his smile softened his face when it was not bitter. he listens through the explanation as his world shatters; reforms, as all the work of the past years is swept away and he is left...

hopeful? no, concerned, a tight expression on his face, this changes everything.

he has many, many questions, but they have a limited amount of time, and there is so much that must be stopped, and other things that must be started. ]

A future. Will it be... undone if you are able to return, or will we remain?

Undone.

[ At least, he would think so. This is their timeline in places it could have gone but will not, with their presence both here and in the past. It could continue, next to the timeline he will return to -- but the Outsider has never known time to be that way. He has seen so many possibilities, but there is only ever one end. ]

There is another rifter here who insists that this is not related to magic at all, but I have seen things like this before. There is no science here that explains how we were thrust forward into the future. His understanding of time is- that of his worlds, I imagine, but it is fixed there. He insists that we can change nothing, that to try would erase ourselves.

I disagree. I have seen things like this before. I have watched one bleak future become something less so. Even if I did not, the others that I am with have no intention of letting this be the fate of Thedas and the Inquisition.

[ There is no doubt there. The Outsider is certain of all of this, but he needs Thranduil to be warned, just in case. Some may listen, may decide that sending them back is not the correct thing to do. They may well need Thranduil's aid, should it come to it.

The statue closes its eyes for a moment, fingers pinching the bridge of its nose. When the hand is dropped and the Outsider's voice comes again, it is a bit softer. ]

Forgive me. Five years may seem as nothing in many cases, but- I imagine it is not so, with how things have been.

You have seen this before. I remember you telling me of all that had occurred. It was not so long ago.

[ his eyes close, he sheathes his sword and pushes the belt to the side; leans in, arms resting loosely on his crossed legs. ]

You must be sure, Duinenor. You must be able to give me your word with near perfect certainty that all of this will be undone. I have not sat idly by. The Quendi have not done nothing in these years. If we give you all we have, we cannot put our own plans into motion.

[ he appreciates the apology, waves it off with a flutter of fingers; the outsider has nothing to be sorry about this. he chooses his words carefully. ]

Galadriel and Thingol learned their Craft at the feet of the Valar, in the elder days. They are able to do things I cannot. But split between the Fade and the waking world, we are cut off from our gifts. If the Veil is torn enough that they can draw upon their Craft to the fullest extent of their talents, we could burn the Blight from Thedas, sink Tevinter into the sea. All of this [ he gestures, sharp and quick. ] would be an advantage. All could be put to rights.

[ elves, again, on top. every disadvantage now a strength. he is deadly serious, eyes on the statue's. ]

If you give me your word that this need not be, everything that is mine is yours, mellon-nin.

Edited 2017-02-07 04:26 (UTC)

[ Thranduil's plan is dangerous. It is the kind of danger that would have moved him to act, in his own world; to whisper a name into the ear of a Marked passed from favor, to give the gift of magic to a man in a jail cell or an empress on the run.

Luckily for them both, he is already acting. Luckily for them both, Thranduil will willingly set aside his plan should the Outsider only promise him one thing.

He is as certain that this will all be undone as he is certain that ripping down the Veil will not truly put anything to rights -- not for those already so wronged. He nods once, sharp. ]

I promise you, my friend; this need not be.

[ And if it comes to pass despite this, the Outsider will be there. He will find a way.

Still. It's never stopped him from asking questions. ]

I was drugged, in the prison; cut off completely from my magic. You say that you are split between the Fade and the waking world, and that has some effect? How did you come to know this?

[ thranduil exhales slowly, five years of planning and work set aside in the face of this promise. he compartmentalizes. he moves on. ]

This other Rifter you spoke of, how likely is he to present a problem? Has he swayed others to his side?

[ thranduil may know him, he may not. his interests have always been... narrow. and pointed. (elves. he likes elves.) either way, he needs to assess this threat and deal with it. not needing to do this, for things to be as they were five years past, it is tempting. too many have died.

he settles in for an explanation, taking up the figure out the outsider itself, setting it down on the box. the cloth and the bone and the wood he arranges before him. up comes the little carving. ]

We are made of the fëa and hröa. The hröa is flesh; impermanent. Failable. [ he knows the outsider can see his scars, he doubts he needs to say more. ] Flawed. The fëa is everything else. What moves the flesh. It is poorly bound to the flesh; an error of the Music. If elves do not sail to Valinor, the fëa will overwhelm the flesh, and burn it out. But the fëa is what allows me to do Craft, to hear the Song.

[ he sets the bone down. ] The Veil nearly severed us from our fëar when we came through the rifts. Whatever bond remains, it is weak. Galadriel, my Lord, and I spent two years making sure. A Templar's silence nearly killing us was a near confirmation, something I learned myself from Alistair, but how Galadriel and I felt whole once more when we fell into the Fade all those years ago was indication enough. Tear the Veil, and we will be able to heal the distance between fëa and hröa enough to call upon our full strength.

He is loud. Thus far, not very liked. Most would assume this is to do with magic, and have hope that they will not let him stamp out. An irritation, certainly, but so far not more than that.

[ There is a pause and then, fondly: ] Corvo threatened to throw his shoe at him. He was in the dungeons, ready to give up, but the man called me 'simple' and Corvo spoke up.

[ In other words, the Outsider found Corvo, yay. Thranduil has had his cousins. Corvo has had no one, but no longer.

The statue listens, one hand under its chin. The Outsider makes mental notes, ones that may become physical ones, if only because he isn't certain how the transfer back to his actual time will alter his memory.

The news about the Templar has him straighten, though; his fingers flex, a note of agitation. ]

There is a drug here -- magebane. Be wary of it. They drugged us with it, and I could not use my magic; my eyes were no longer black, for the first time in four thousand years. I will tell you of this in the time I will return to, also, but for now- be aware, Thranduil. I will not lose you due to differences in biology.

[ Because that's fucking stupid. ]

What other effects would the Veil being torn down have? The spirits, for example?

[ he offers, if hesitantly, a response, eyes flicking heavenward. ]It may simply be that 'magic' is the word the ignorant use to describe what they cannot understand.

[ not that he's covering for this rifter. he's the only one allowed to be a pretentious know-it-all, and he'll defend his title. reputation's about all he has left. ]

Ah. He was... presumed lost, returned to your world or dead. But you are so inspiring, it is clear why he took heart. [ he nods, decisive. ] They will not catch me, my friend. Though I will have liked to see you.

[ he's very, very bad at human ages, and mostly depends on height. how had the outsider looked, thranduil wondered, with the shroud of his fea dimmed?

too small, he thinks. ]

You will not lose me.

[ thranduil... smiles. it is not a warm thing, all sharp teeth and a feral set to his face. ]

Nothing Galadriel and my lord will not be able to compensate for. If Solas-- [ but someone went back to sleep, so fuck him. ] ... our options, as they were, were limited. I will admit something like relief at not needing to steel myself for the inevitable... losses.

There are powers in all worlds that men do not understand, that they call magic. Some truly do have their roots in the supernatural, though.

[ No science only magic okay? Okay. ]

Not dead, but imprisoned. He may go to seek out the rescue of another. I will go with him, if he does; with this statue [ and the statue gestures at itself ] we will be able to communicate securely.

I find that I feel- somewhat responsible, for his state. It is one he has been in before, and I do not enjoy seeing him in it a second time.

[ Gotta take care of those pet mortals. You know how it is, right? ]

There may yet be losses. But we will make it as if these years never were -- a small comfort for those who lived them, but it will happen.

[ thranduil bites his tongue- not literally- and exhales, eyes closing for a moment.

(no science only magic for missing best buddy so recently returned to him.) ]

I will travel to Orzammar as quickly as I am able. If we are to do this as quickly as possible, nothing else matters. Tell me what you need. Your mortal needn't ever know he suffered, or that you cared enough to note his suffering. [ an amused twist of his lips. ] I needn't know that it ever came to this.

[ he nods. he... can resign himself to this. ] I will remember nothing, I assume.

Information. And we are going to need to be able to get back to Haven, which I suspect will be- difficult.

[ Fuck Up All The Venatori

The statue nods, quick and short. No point in beating around the bush. ]

Correct. And so I will also need all of the information that can be gathered as to the activities of Corypheus' forces, anything so that we can counter and work around it, strike first when able. I understand it has been a few years, but I suspect not enough for your memory to have many holes.

[ Or enough for all the information to be lost, even with the dead. ]

There are several others who came through with me. Of them all, a Templar [ yes, he knows ] with the nickname 'Wren' is perhaps the most level-headed and the best to pass information onto, besides myself.

I have... a collection of the remaining Dalish. I will not treat them like children, the information will be provided to them and they will make their own choices. That will provide you with a selection of archers and hunters in addition to myself, my lord, and Galadriel. [ who is literally somehow more terrifying, it turns out, when the world starts to end and she's been given a good solid chance to plan for ending the world as it is and building a new one. ]

I understand. I will move to Orzammar, first, this... dissenter, the one who might complicate things ought to be handled first. And there are a few more who ought be told.

[ he laughs, charmed. ] No, my friend, I have forgotten very little,[ he admits, and reaches over to dig through the upended furs to grab the crystal. ]

I assume this will work?

[ he's gotten into bed with odder folks. it's been an odd few years. ]

[ That is a start. If the Inquisition refuses to believe them, it will have to be enough. The Outsider's statue nods, resolute. At least one of those from Thranduil's past, those who have been thrust in the future, must get back. ]

'The Doctor', apparently. Perhaps you could talk some sense into him, but he is very firm in his beliefs about how the world works. Likely it's true, in his own, but this is not his world. That is the problem.

[ As it always is, he supposes. ]

The crystal will work, but be careful what is shared on it. I've seen traitors already within Kirkwall.

Magic, [ thranduil says, ] not reason, [ and does not sound bitter. he can empathize with the doctor. he is, as far as thranduil knows, alone here. no soft landing. thranduil had galadriel. the outsider now has corvo, and is somewhat unshakable. after a moment: ] Do not speak of his title as if yours is any less ridiculous.

[ it is a title. it distances. you cannot love a title in the same way you can love someone with a name. duinenor: high tide, you are valuable to me, you are important, here is a piece of my people, made new for you, i care where you sleep at night and if your clothes are warm and comfortable. the loss of you five years ago tore something from me. ]

I suppose you would prefer this over that. You must speak with the others before you arrive, give them time to prepare for the truth. Romain comes to mind. He will... appreciate the novelty.

Edited 2017-03-18 03:23 (UTC)

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