Intro Log: May

[moustre]

Intro Log: May, Game Start

I. ARRIVAL Out of nowhere, a glint of light catches your eye; your heart thunders in your ears as your body moves on its own, your mind consumed with inspecting the source. Your reflection stares back at you, just as curious from the surface - a mirror, a pool of water, your most trusted sword, something fleeting that your mind can barely remember - then ripples at your touch. A moment later, you feel a tug, and you find yourself stumbling into a dark, musty room. Behind you, a mirror stands ornately decorated with reminders of home wrought in brass and wood: the faces of people you know, and symbols important to you; all things that send a pang through your chest with the desire to return to them. Touching the mirror's surface does nothing but leave the stain of your fingerprints. When you turn turn to survey the room, you find there are hundreds of other mirrors. None of them are as decorated as yours - they're plain and dusty, speckled with age. Then you realize a second thing: You're not alone. Distantly, the ringing bell of a clocktower can be heard. But no matter its distance, the time is clear to make out: it chimes three times, stark, resonating like a pulse of something in this mirrored hall that you and many others have found yourselves in. For those familiar with magic, they might feel the power of the witching hour upon them, though it will feel different from what they're used to - in fact, everything does. Besides the new arrivals, however, there's one more person in the building, and only one. A young teen stands; previously bored and mulish, he's now owl-eyed and slackjawed as he takes in each arrival, either from the mirrors or coming from another floor as you try to get your bearings. In his hands he's clutching a broom like a security blanket, until - "M... Miss Nessie! Miss Nessie, something's happened!" he yells, as he drops the broom and turns tail out of the building. Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is clear, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons, regardless of their waning crescent phases. Follow, or explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in? The Looking-Glass House is rather nondescript two-story cottage made of grey brick, sitting at the edge of The Coven's courtyard; stones which glow as you step on them mark the path to and from the two buildings. While fairly small and plain on the outside, the inside has been enchanted to be the size of a large library, with hundreds upon hundreds of mirrors hanging, standing, and resting inside its walls. Some are broken, some are cracked, and some seem completely uninjured - but all of them are just as plain as the cottage itself, showing age in the silver beneath their glass and in the greening of their metals... Well, all except a character's personal mirror; to characters, one mirror - the one they came through - will be decorated lavishly with metal-and-wood-wrought reminders of home, and the surface will be as clear as a brand-new mirror.

II. "MISS NESSIE" Whether you've decided to follow the hapless young man, or decided to explore the rest of the Looking-Glass House - and perhaps finding a few familiar faces among the crowd - you feel a pull towards the foyer of the first floor. It's like a firm suggestion, as if to take you by the hand and draw you to where it begins, and the source of it becomes quite apparent upon finding one's way to the front room: a tall, comfortably-dressed older woman and her even taller wolfish companion. The woman covers her mouth with a soft "Oh my!" as she surveys those who begin to crowd in, and she turns to the werewolf (?), lowering her hand once more. (The handful of others who'd come with her peer as best they can from a ways behind her with unconcealed curiosity, closer to the door out than not. The boy previously seen before he ran off can be spotted at the very back of the group.) "This is right unexpected, isn't it?" She not-quite whispers, delight and confusion in equal measure in her voice. Her companion makes a quiet noise in her throat, unscarred eye narrowed - it's hard to tell if that delight is one shared by both parties. "Well, they've always said the veil is thinner during Boaltinn... We'll have to talk to James and see if he was doing anything other than cleaning, we will, but for now, we've got a full house to attend to, don't we? Ah, if they're all Witches, that'll be something, it will!" Without wasting another beat - much to the fond irritation of her companion, certainly - the woman turns back to the newcomers of Aefenglom, clapping her hands together in glee. "Well then! I'm certain you all have many, many questions... As do we! First thing's first, though, first thing's first! I am Nerissa Bell, the Head Witch of the Coven - that's where this house is located right now, on Coven grounds - and this is my Bonded, Mhairi Ainsley. Don't worry, she's a right softie despite her looks! You can simply call me Miss Nessie - everyone does, short of those stuffy folks up in the Parliament, but, well, that's just how things are with them, I suppose." She pauses a beat, for breath, before continuing with a wave of her hand; dozens of chairs and stools, all surprisingly comfortable despite their wooden looks, are conjured in an instant, and Nessie smiles wide as she gives a small bow. "Take a seat, and let's get familiar with one another for a spell! The city'll celebrate without us one way or another, and we've already finished our business for tonight anyway. Isn't that right, Mhairi dear?" Despite the onslaught of information and excitement at three in the morning, Mhairi inclines her head slightly after a huge sigh; her voice is likely exactly as expected, low and akin to a growl. "Best to take advantage of the distraction. Let's begin, before I have to report this to Parliament." NOTE: If you wish to interact with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here. You have the option of handwaving the IC interaction to OOCly ask what questions your character might have for them, for us to summarize an answer for, or you can request an IC thread. Simply specify in your comment's subject and we'll respond accordingly.

III. THE COVEN After an hour or two of general chaos, questions that the natives attempt to help with, and injuries tended to for those who arrive in poor condition, a solution is presented. Though they certainly can't answer every question, Nerissa and Mhairi promise to help find the answers, and open the doors of the Coven to all new arrivals in the Looking-Glass House. The walk from the quaint cottage to the imposing structure ahead is lit only by magic provided by Miss Nessie and the Witches accompanying her, as well as the path of stepping stones coming aglow with each step that's taken across them. Beyond the courtyard, with its high, opalescent walls, a city can be seen. There are torches accompanying the flickering light posts outside, and the sounds of life clear even this far from the heart of Aefenglom, something that sounds like... merriment? Festivities are in full swing, even this close to dawn. The rest of the world continues on, even though you've arrived, confused and perhaps missing a few aspects of your usual persons. But while they certainly weren't expecting to spend the festival like this, the Coven has worked as quickly as it can. Their doors, decorated in cowslip flowers, are wide open - welcoming to the public, and to new arrivals as well. The Coven's main building has a surprisingly large front room, compared to its outside; the ceiling stretches ever onward, with stairs of the solidly-flush-against-the-wall variety and floating-ethereally-in-the-middle-of-things variety both. Magic and mundane intermingle as if meant to, with brooms inscribed with runes to clean making quick work of dirt and dust, shadowy figures opening and closing doors as people enter and exit, plates of snacks drifting around as if carried by invisible servers. The brooms are especially attentive to the door as new arrivals step in - they don't apologize for knocking into anyone, and really, anyone particularly scruffy will get swept at until the brooms are satisfied. None of this seems to mind the Witches coming in, with small murmurs of gratitude given to the busybody brooms instead of reprimands. Doors lead this way and that, on higher floors and on the ground floor, but runes glow by their frames in indecipherable patterns. Peculiar-looking devices - watches, the native Witches explain, compliments of Parliament - are passed around to all the new arrivals; they're given a quick rundown on their functions and bid to test them out when they can, and Nessie waits for things to calm before she steps up the floating stairs and addresses the room. "We'll see to it you all have lodgings for a bit, we will, but for now, the festival's still going on - if you couldn't tell!" She laughs a little, hands on her hips. "There's nothing we can do about things right now, so you might as well enjoy yourselves, you might. If any of you want to stay in 'til morning though, well, we can provide - just mind your manners, magic's real particular about them. At least," she winks, head tilting with the motion, "that's how I teach all my classes, it is." Those deciding to stay will be lead to doors that seem to follow no real pattern by native Witches; the rule is "two to a bed," so get cozy with the person next to you. They're the ones you'll be sleeping with tonight. The beds aren't too small - enough to accommodate at least three humans - and they're fairly comfortable too, for their old-looking age.

IV. BOALTINN For those who journey out into the city, they'll be sent off with a word of warning to keep out of trouble from Mhairi, to find everything still quite lively - and still quite unaware of what's taken place. There's very little left to the shadows, with dim light filling in the gaps between the flickering streetlamps and the extra candles and such people have put up themselves. Curiously, small bonfires seem to follow a pattern, culminating into a wide plaza in the center of the Residential District where a larger, brighter one burns, with people dancing around it, their clothing jingling softly with little bells hanging from their hems. The same is mirrored on the direct other side of the city - the only difference is in who's dancing. The Eastern Bonfire has more visibly humanoid beings enjoying themselves, while the Western Bonfire has creatures more monstrous in looks. Regardless, they all seem to be happy- And the reason is this: Boaltinn, a festival lasting the next two dusks. The nights and early mornings are filled with flickering firelight, while the morning and daytime have all but the small fires leading the way to the giant bonfires extinguished; the bonfires, however, stay lit. - and in general, it seems the city is quite happy, quite cheerful, and quite close. a. The Bonfires The main attraction of Boaltinn, as they are with any fire festival, the bonfires on each side of the city are tended to by various Monsters every hour of the day. While much of the scenes are similar - there's plenty of food to be shared, with those partaking in it cowed into sitting with someone else regardless of how familiar they might be, and children of all kinds play together and invite those sitting or watching to come too, in all manner of games, such as jacks, hopscotch, and running ribbons around the tall poles at the bonfires. But there are marked differences, too. The Eastern Bonfire primarily has humans or those that can pass as humanoid in attendance, and they're much friendlier to those who look similar to them; to those that look a little more monster-like, though, their replies are far more curt and their shoulders colder. The area around the bonfire is also littered with trinkets and baubles, all shiny and new and utterly forgotten by their playmates; the ribbon poles are similarly new, made professionally as if by commission. Characters are invited to try and jump through the bonfire's flames to burn away any poor relationship experiences, be it romantic or platonic, past or present; to aid them in this, those at the Eastern Bonfire will give those participating rune-etched accessories to protect them from the fire. Meanwhile, the Western Bonfire has primarily those who are more monstrous in looks, and they're similarly friendlier to those who resemble them, with a similar brusque and cold manner to those who look more human. The area around the bonfire is carefully kept clean, however, and the ribbon poles look handcrafted from lumber and grass, with tightly-woven knots and clumsily-made paper decorations. Those attending here are also invited to jump through the flames, but no such protection is offered; it's simply assumed that, as a Monster, you're likely much better at handling a little fire. b. A Little Entertainment It isn't only the bonfire celebrations that one can participate in, however. All throughout both the East and West Residential Districts, as well as a portion of the Shopping and Entertainment Districts, there's a number of stalls, stands, and stores available for perusal. Take a gander at the rest of the city and find something to do. Of note: Divination readings are available in various stalls, set up by Coven-official Witches as well as homegrown ones, with tarot cards that vary from pristine art pieces that one would almost hesitate to touch to the personally drawn and cut. They offer free readings, enticing all who pass by to join them at their table. Good or bad, the cards seem to bring with them lessons and words of wisdom, interpreted expertly by those handling them... or as expertly as possible; some readings seem a little unsure and muddy. Regardless of belief, those who take part in these readings will suddenly find their day going either exceptionally well or incredibly poor, depending on the overall feel of their reading. Carts and booths are available for one to partake in more food, however there's a stipulation to taking anything from these vendors: one must share this food with others, either in pairs or a group. While relations between humans and beasts seem to be a little frosty, they can be seen intermingling a tad more freely when it comes to this portion of the celebrations, sharing the treats and small meals that are being offered to everyone. The food available all seem to be those easy to hold in hand, not unlike modern-day food trucks; of note, the thin pancake wraps seem to be the most popular, with a bubbly drink similar to a milkshake filled to the brim with drinking straws for best sharing experience coming in second. Flavors are plentiful and varied, though they err closer to the fruits, vegetables, and spices side of the spectrum. Finally, the more pleasure-based businesses offer the chance to relax one's weary feet and take a chance with a little aromatherapy with their rose baths. While traditionally this had its roots in imbuing the bather with good tidings and blessings for the upcoming seasons (or so they'll say when asked), nowadays, it's simply become a luxury treatment for those needing a little TLC. The waters here do have the added bonus of making those who share them friendlier and more talkative with their partner(s) - and yes, all baths are a shared experience. Rather than being split by sex, baths are split by monster and human; co-ed bathing exists for those who don't mind mingling with the opposite species, and if really pressed, they can offer separate baths for different sexes, but their focus seems elsewhere. c. Impulsive Compulsion Throughout the whole festival, new arrivals, particularly those with magic talent gifted to them by the world, will feel like they can do anything and will push themselves to the limit. While not inherently detrimental, those who feel it will become more reckless, their inhibitions lessened and impulses heightened; trying new things is easy as pie, with any thoughts of fear left far in the back of their minds. While magic is highly discouraged on festival days, given their rest day quality, those under the spell of Boaltinn's madness will feel the temptation to try some anyway, regardless of knowing the proper way of performing it - perhaps it's about time to try out what one discovered in that strange dream... Those found doing magic will get a firm scolding, but no actual punishment; it's only looked down on, and they'll be cautioned against using too much. If any property damage occurs due to reckless magic use, however, there are fines; those without any money to their name can be recruited to pay it off by working at the buildings and stalls they may have accidentally damaged, serving people, looks, or whatever else the business might offer.

Welcome to the intro log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. The network system is free to use once characters have their watches as well; information on that can be found at the bottom of the Setting page, while any extra questions about it can be found in the FAQ index. Quests can be picked up now as well! While technically most of them won't start until after festivities, you can go ahead and put your name on some by replying to the May Quest Pickup thread on the Quest Board. Finally, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

[wylderrant]

[ "Quixotic spirit of chivalry" is honestly pretty close to the truth. Although she never considers herself a spirit of anything. She just is. She is Iramaat and that is all she will ever be. Or at least that's how she thinks of it. Perhaps she is a spirit, though. Regardless, her gaze is forward, not back. After her attempt to go 'home' was foiled, the only way out for her is through.

She steps into the hallway, glances one way and then the other and is about to speak up again when the bell sounds.

That's different. It sinks into her. Resonates in her bones. She's not sure she likes that. There's a visible shiver or a shudder and for a moment her expression twists before it's back to its usual carefree attitude.

She does not enjoy being compelled. ]

I... do.

[ She cocks her head, listening. ]

-that way, I think.

[ She points down the hallway. ]

Shall we investigate?

[veilfires]

[He is attuned so keenly to the vibrations, the absence they leaves behind as it fades pains him anew. It is not familiar magic, but it is undeniably magical. There is something he senses, now, however faint. A hum. It remains after the tolling of the bells, tremulous in the air. Heart thrumming, he speaks aloud his observations as he makes them:]

Do you feel its waves? It is as an impossible tide of water crashing across a parched desert. First it washes over... then it seeps away. It sinks, deep into the sand.

So there is magic here. [He says it in the same way someone else might of discovering life. Then at once he sets off at a brisk walking pace, staff in hand, down the hallway Iramaat points out.]

Yes, with all haste. If the bells toll, it follows there is a bell-ringer.

[wylderrant]

You have the mind and words of a poet, friend! Maybe you missed your calling!

[ Iramaat laughs. She seems almost indifferent to any idea of danger or the idea that magic might be different here. Whether that's because she's foolhardy, over-confident, or merely very at ease is hard to tell.

She follows him, stride eating up the distance so she can fall in alongside him, gaze sharp as she takes in the corridor, the doors, the decor of the place they've found themselves in. ]

Homey, isn't it? Although you'd think there would be more people. And if this were some sort of trap, something to keep us from going where we want...

[veilfires]

[Injured, he clamps his mouth shut. His ears burn with embarrassment and a wash of defensive anger. What else is such flippancy but mockery, intended or no? He lapses into brittle silence. It’s a fresh sting to an old sensitive spot. His considered wisdom, offered with raw vulnerability, time and time again dismissed out of hand by those more ignorant than he. She might as well call him crazy and be done with it.

At least such strength of feeling suggests he hasn’t indeed been made entirely Tranquil. Iramaat, however. For all her boldness, vigour, and elven ears, she is far from him. As is this world. A great distance, though they have fallen into step, side-by-side.

The stone hallway they walk down opens into rooms like the ones they have left. Innumerable mirrors lie in dust and cobwebs, all alike with their plain iron frames. Some of them, he notes with a new rush of anxiety, are broken. What would become of him if his own mirror broke? Fixing an eluvian is a difficult endeavour with magic. Without it, it’s entirely impossible.

He doesn’t respond, but he remains certain this is a trap. Taunt them with the allure of magic but leave it out of their reach, cursing them to walk eternally in a labyrinth of mirrored hallways. Render your victims magic-less, and then inevitably mindless.

That proves a touch dramatic compared to what they do find. They walk about a rounded corner and there see an open window ahead. It’s set into the outwards curve of the hall. It looks out onto a night sky. The arch frames two moons, hanging aloft among the stars.]

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat didn't mean to insult him - she thought it was a compliment - but she also remains blissfully unaware that might be insulted. Or if she notices, she doesn't mention it and doesn't try to apologize. Maybe she thinks it's his own problem to deal with. Or maybe she just doesn't consider it important. Who knows?

Her gaze is forward, stride eager, still smiling, as if this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to her. The mirrors they pass get a glance and nothing more, although occasionally she reaches out to trail her fingertips over the glass, a low little hum springing into her throat. And then they find a window and she rushes to it with a gasp, peering up into the night sky. ]

Two moons? No, that's not right. My home certainly doesn't have two moons.

[ She glances at Solas. ]

Does yours?

'does your world have 2 moons' 'yeah but only when the devs remember'

[veilfires]

[His walk is no rush - he's still gloomy and sullen, nursing his old 'wound' - but it is something nearly as purposeful. He joins Iramaat moments later at her side. He too looks up at the alien night sky, and it draws an exhale from him.

He looks back at her, sadness and pity for her again in his eyes.]

Yes. And - no. Not like these.

[It is surely firm confirmation that they are both lost elves, far from home.

He looks out the window again - down this time. Outside there is a portion of a walled courtyard, lit by the twin moons: its design and architecture are foreign and unnameable to him. He registers this all, but dully: it does not have the quality of realness to him. They're in a building, he supposes, and neither apparently high up nor trapped in it.]

It seems we are free to leave the building. [Not that he's making any movement to.]

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat's eyes don't reflect any of that sadness or pity or even hesitance. She's just excitement and wild energy and a fierce, unadulterated joy at finding out something new. At having a new goal. She flashes him a little grin, knowing and almost mysterious. ]

Well then - we're definitely not where we're meant to be.

[ Obvious, but she enjoys saying it out loud. She glances back at him again after another glance up into the night sky. Well, now what? She makes a low little noise and finally turns fully toward him, folding her arms across her chest. ]

Do you want to? I'd like to, but going alone seems... dull. And perhaps a little ill-advised.

[ But mostly dull. ]

[veilfires]

[With his own spirit flagging, any adventurous spirit quite apart from him – he’s supposes it’s fitting he follow in substitution this bright and feckless spirit of adventure embodied.]

We did commit to an investigation.

[He leans his staff against the wall in preparation to climb through. They can’t fit through at the same time, so he holds out his hand in invitation for her to go first.]

You seem like the leaderly type.

[He’s definitely not sending her ahead in the case the window is trapped!]

[wylderrant]

I try to be, thank you.

[ She takes that as a compliment and she takes the invitation and runs with it. Without a moment of hesitation, she plants her hands on the sill and heaves herself up and over. She perches there for a moment and then lowers herself. Out the window.

She's rather fortunate that the drop isn't far. She lands on her feet, falls into a crouch, and then bounces back upright. ]

All clear so far!

[ She holds her hand up, as if to help him out or down. ]

Coming with me?

[veilfires]

[Receiving her all-clear, he climbs to perch on the windowsill himself. He does not take her helpful, gallantly proffered hand. Though he’s no knight-errant, he is still a fit and capable adventurer – he’s able to land the jump fluidly, and a moment later he’s standing by her side once more.

The light from two moons allows a decent amount of vision. The tall trees growing in the garden wave and rock as though compelled by the magic in the air. Against the night-blue sky, they are inky black silhouettes. Ominous ones, Solas thinks. Otherwise the courtyard appears well-maintained. Evidently this new world has gardeners – unless the grass simply does not grow for lack of the Fade.

Looking back at the building, he finds it unexpectedly small – just a two-storey brick house. It’s even humble. It was certainly not so small when they were walking its halls.]

The building is under an illusionary enchantment, or less likely some manner of dimensional warp. That is surprising. Such powerful magic should not be possible in this place.

[wylderrant]

[ Well, this is what she gets for trying to be polite, apparently. She lets him slip down and goes back to examining the courtyard. She peers into the shadows, feeling the night air prickle along her skin. It's a wonderful feeling, as far as she's concerned. Wonderful and familiar and yet strange. This is a new world, under strange moons, with strange scents on the breeze. She breathes deep and then takes a few steps forward. ]

Why not? Not all magic is the same.

[ She's used to the rules ultimately being mutable, in some respect. But she's also rather chaotic, at the best of times. ]

[veilfires]

[He understands, at least, that 1) based on what he’s observed of her character, her magic is likely to be far more intuitive than academic, and 2) they are from different worlds – so he avoids explanation that leans on more specific terminology.]

Magic manifests ever differently, but magic in a physical, material world must be drawn here from somewhere. It requires connection to a place where the physical laws of reality are not so set. For stronger magic, that connection must be stronger in turn.

[He states all this as facts, but slowly, with visible unease and uncertainty. It’s not because he doubts himself – it’s because the implications are enormous and terrible.]

I sense no such connection here. Not even a weaker one. [Excepting those bells, and the strange, hazy, distant atmosphere they’ve heralded...]

[wylderrant]

Well, I suppose so...

[ She frowns slightly and taps her chin, the gesture losing itself in the gloom. He's... mostly right, honestly. ]

My power tended to come from the Dreaming or the Hedge or whatever you want to call it. The world I came from, the world that birthed me. But I could just - I mean-

[ She pauses, laughs and then gestures at herself. ]

I'm made of the stuff. Dreams and magic and creation! [ She sounds exuberant, almost, exulting in what she is (was). After a long moment, she furrows her brow. ]

Or. That's what I was made of. I have the creeping feeling that I'm not, currently, and that's unfortunate. [ Which is putting it mildly. ]

[veilfires]

[His fists are curl tightly at his sides in as he stares at her, transfixed, horrified and pale. If she speaks true, if she is not some taunting demon of this place (and how can he know? He feels his enforced ignorance is going to drive him mad) - then. There are other worlds like his. And hers has not been destroyed. Is this why he felt compelled to come through the mirror – he was being drawn to find her and learn of this?

‘Unfortunate,’ she says. It is sickening to think of her wrenched as she is from the Dreaming. She cannot know how changed she is. She is laughing, single-minded and foolish like the young spirits of his world.

To his knowledge, few young survived when he raised the Veil.]

‘A creeping feeling’. [He swallows.] It may be difficult, but can you be more exact? Please. Try – try poetry, if that helps.

[wylderrant]

Well, I will try, but how does one put into words what one has always felt?

[ She shrugs, apparently unconcerned and at ease. Or she hides it well, buries it deep, and lets her smiling, sunny face take on the world for her. She puts her back against the tree, illustrating her words with gestures as she begins to speak. ]

In the beginning, there was the Dreaming and the walking, waking, mortal world and while the mortal world is mostly the domain of men - short-lived, foolish, amusing creatures - the Dreaming birthed the Fair Folk. That's us. Or me, I suppose, since I think I'm the only one here. But we're creatures of that energy, steeped in it, made of it, and we are not so much born as simply... coming into being.

[ She shrugs. ]

Unlike so many mortals, I have never had a childhood and I do not think I would want one. It sounds troublesome.

[ That's a bit of tangent. Focus up, Iramaat. ]

[veilfires]

[There are moments when sights stagger him even more than the words. This would be one of them: foolish Chivalry taken out of her Dreaming, smiling about her world, head tilted casually back against a stark black pole in a world dark and hostile, that threatens to steal not just her world but and everything she is away from her. His blood pounds in his head, and his mouth is dry.]

And how do you feel now, in this place absent of the magic of the Dreaming?

[wylderrant]

Not like I ought to, but how does one put that into words? I can't call up the plants, I can't go walking into the Hedge, I can't... Hmm. There are a lot of things I can't do anymore, I think. But I haven't tested them all yet.

[ She's thinking aloud, one foot tapping against the grass-covered earth. ]

But all heroines face challenges such as these on their journeys, do they not? This is another obstacle to overcome. Another chance to prove my worth.

[ And there is that smile, bright and shining in the moonlight. ]

Despair is not in my vocabulary. Much better to keep moving.

[veilfires]

[Solas can suppose what happened to the Chivalry spirits not possessed of the immense strength of self needed to survive and adapt beyond the Veil. The few who were not killed outright would have been tormented and warped into Fear demons.

Iramaat’s moon-bright smile does not have any glimmer of Fear. She is not yet twisted and sundered, even if she should be. For that matter: neither is he.]

Well. [He clears his throat.] The greater the challenge, the greater the heroine – no?

[And adds further, now determined to be as himself, not some despairing man so wrought with oversensitivity he’ll decline to speak his mind:]

Though thus far your only obstacle has been that presented by an open second-storey window. Where next for our investigation, Knight?

[wylderrant]

Precisely! I'm so glad you understand.

[ She tips two of her fingers toward him in a little salute. She seems unruffled, prepared to take on whatever challenges present themselves. And while he's right that they've only overcome a window, she's sure that there will be much more for them to handle as time wears on. She glances up at the moons over head and then around the courtyard they've found themselves in. ]

Find a way out of here, I think. See what the lay of the land is like. Or... go back inside and see what else is in there!

[veilfires]

[He nods. It's not a dynamic he minds stepping into, letting her front the charge into the unknown.]

Enchanted as it is, inside we might only find ourselves walking around illusory halls for hours.

Let's find some way out beyond these walls. We could yet find a belltower to match our mysterious bells.

[wylderrant]

And then we could climb it.

[ Iramaat adds that in with a laugh. ]

And maybe see the world as it lies around us. Well, if it weren't night, anyway.

[ She nods toward a gate - a sort of small side-gate, actually - and starts toward it. ]

Shall we?

[veilfires]

[He smiles – a little wan, but now true as well – and gives a little half-bow in agreement.]

After you, Knight.

[He follows.]

[wylderrant]

Thank you!

[ And she does lead the way. She swings the gate open (it is not, in fact, locked) and goes stepping out - onto a cobblestoned street. She blinks and looks around. They find themselves outside an imposing, stone building that rises in front of them; whtie stones seem to mark a path from the smallish cottage behind them (it really does seem larger inside) toward it. There is another courtyard wall around them, but beyond it can be the heard the sounds of a city. Wagons and footfalls and the buzz of activity. Iramaat purses her lips and then glances down at the path that's been marked before them. ]

Well, there are people here. Somewhere. Or the sound of them, in any case. And a path! How nice of them...

[ She glances at Solas. ]

If we want to follow, at any rate. This place almost looks like a fortress...

[ Or a prison. ]

[veilfires]

[He walks out onto the stepping stone, and is lit up by the first one as he stands on it looking down. Magic he can't feel, or - perhaps nature?]

Amazing.

[He breathes deeply the air of this new world, and it smells of fire and smoke. People, of all the things to find in this dead world. Life – buzzing, real life, and a city.

When he thinks of what people could be native to this realm, he imagines beings alike to the Children of the Stone. Mindless, soulless drones undergoing opaquely assigned tasks without emotion or individual thought. He’s never feared or disliked the Children of the Stone, though, so he merely nods.]

Just as you have been shaped by the Dreaming, whatever people we find are likely to have be shaped by the absence of it. It will be interesting to see what such a people are like.

I am sure they will also be interested to see us.

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat spreads her arms wide and breathes in the scent of the air. It's not quite the woods and wilds she tends to prefer, but she has no hatred of cities, so this is just fine for her as well. People to meet, to speak to, to explore. She's anticipating that already, eyes dancing in the dark. ]

I can't imagine it's the first time they've had people come wandering through mirrors. Although maybe we are the first, so perhaps better to be prepared. Just in case.

[ Hmm. ]

I'd rather not make it all the way here just to get spit-roasted by some over-anxious guardsman, you know?