[Open Post] No matter how feared...

[nogoldenmirror]

Who: Morrigan and you
Where: Around the temple
When: April 1st
Rating PG? PG-13? She's from a rated M game and there may be talk of fire, death, blood rituals, and war. All will be marked.
What: Waking up after a canon update nap is all fun and games until one realizes they're responsible for a small human-ish being.

Prologue CW: Fire, war, blood rituals.
The dream feels far too realistic for what it entails. Or perhaps, that is exactly why it does. It is far more vivid than most of her visits to the Fade, and she has no control over what she sees. Or rather, has no way to modify it. Yet she keeps focusing on how it's simply too real.

Morrigan can feel the warmth of the fire on her skin as she stares into the flames within the fireplace, hear the door open and his initial hesitation to accept her offer in his tone and see it in his body language as she sits on his bed and tells him what must be done. She can feel his skin under her fingertips when he finally agrees and she returns to him after locking the door. It... is easier, considering their mutual feelings for one another. She can even taste the desperation on his lips and realizes it isn't just his.

Allow me to say only one thing before we go.

Fire. Always more fire. The roar of a battlefield, the flames licking at buildings of wood and cobblestone. Amell choosing who to go with him, and naturally, he chooses her, Alistair, and Leliana, leaving the Qunari warrior in charge of those defending the gates.

I was foolish. The battle goes on and on, primal, entropic, and creation energies flung across streets and up stairways as they cut their way through the tireless horde. This could have been so much easier, yet I... Climbing the tower. -cannot regret what was between us. Watching him make the final blow against the corrupted high dragon. Years passing in the blink of an eye.

I will always remember you, my love.


( Closed to Keith )
( Closed to Shiro )

Open Option A
[It has been over sixteen hours in this place since she entertained the notion of food. Honestly, she likely should have headed here first. A fact which she attempted to inform her stomach. Unfortunately, it is still protesting the idea that she'll need it to keep up later. Evidently being half-starved doesn't simply go away even with additional memories from home. One where she needed to keep fed to also sustain a newborn.

Still, she has something that smells of soup brewing on the stove. Morrigan had started throwing it together without thinking, despite the carnival outside. She wasn't exactly in the mood for handling bigger crowds at the moment. Especially since she's still attempting to reconcile it within her head that two years equated to twelve hours.

When she catches the sound of someone else entering, she pauses.] Help yourself, if you please. 'Tis far more than I can manage. [Even if they hadn't just come from, well, that bloody excuse for a station. There's enough in the pot for at least five healthy portions after she poured herself a bowl. She'd grown far too accustomed to preparing large portions for the Wardens.

Of course, making beef stew takes time, so someone may just simply stumble upon her during the cooking process... should they steal themselves away from the madness without.]

Open Option B
[While the festivities are in full swing, Morrigan seers clear for the most part. Despite the scent of cookies nearly overwhelming her. Mm, she misses those so much. However, she has a task to accomplish and little time to do so. Thus she's wandering the temple grounds and later near the edge of the forest, seeking either a previous garden left unattended, or a good place to start a new one.

She's spoken about it before with a few others, of teaching others how to mix herbal remedies -- medicines, as some call it. That requires a steady supply of ingredients, and while she got an idea from Horologium of how to make a greenhouse even more efficient (despite the rot and decay when they first found the place), there is the problem of finding a location and then those with the know-how. That went without even mentioning the materials required, but who knew? Perhaps the next jump would be a fruitful one.

Of course, to an outsider, this likely simply looks like a wilder folk studying the ground for no apparent reason other than perhaps finding mud interesting... Make of it what they will. She's determined about something, at least. Albeit apparently distracted.]


(ooc: If anyone else would like to run into her another way, poke me on discord @ Twee#6092 and I'd be more than willing to work on something with you!)

Comments

CLOSED to Keith

[nogoldenmirror]

[Morrigan wakes with a jolt; too quickly, as both her head and the room begin to spin. Gasping for air, she grasps the sheets on either side of her with hands that threaten to become claws as she squeezes catlike eyes shut, waiting for it to cease. The scent of dried herbs does some work to pull her back, but her head and heart still race like rabbits having caught sight and scent of a predator. Right... the room she claimed for herself in the temple. Not a grey and colorless area filled with blank or shattered mirrors that sometimes flickered to something bright and too many colors-- Wait, where did that come from?

Morrigan looks out through the tiny square hole. ...Midday light? How is that possible? She never sleeps in this late. Her own sense of self-preservation wouldn't allow it. The young witch shakes her head and winces, noticing the time on her watch. And that the pale purple that had chipped away from nails that had grown longer during her stay were retinted in the same shade, and her nails perfectly trimmed once more. She pauses just long enough for it to sink in before she jumps out of bed and to the sink, staring at the mirror hanging above it as she grasps the basin tightly with her claws.

Her hair is longer, face and features thinned out further having lost just a little more of the baby fat she'd retained before, save around her stomach and upper thighs. Not half-starved as many of them had been since their last world jump -- including herself -- due to rationing food resources, but sharper. Eyes still haunted, but...brighter than they have been in ages. She splashes cold water on her face before sitting on the edge of the tub in her room. It's midday, almost noon now. She'd been asleep for twelve hours yet it feels longer somehow. And now, she knows exactly why. Those weren't dreams. They were memories.

Something in the back of her mind replays the promise she'd made with another back on that godsforsaken spaceship. Something that feels like a lifetime ago, yet she quickly sends a private audio message to Keith after turning off the water. She's half a mind to shift into a wolf and hide in the forest later, but for now... keeping promises.]

I am late. [She winces at the sound of her own voice, raspy and exhausted as though months were suddenly catching up with her as she tersely adds:] ...My apologies.

audio

[lonered]

[Morrigan's voice comes through and Keith feels more relieved than he ought to. After what they've gone through recently, those who had died, after Lance has disappeared entirely, someone not turning up is worrying.]

Don't worry about it.

[But her voice.] Is everything all right?

audio

[nogoldenmirror]

[He may say not to worry about it, but for all else she may or may not be, Morrigan has at the very least kept to being a woman of her word. She hates breaking promises or going against her end of bargains more than she detests self-righteousness, holier-than-thou snobs. Unseen, she's rubbing at her eyes and wanting to sink into the water for a while until her head slows in it's swimming. It has some already, but the reality of it all still leaves her so stunned she almost misses the question.

She wants to laugh. There are so many things that aren't, and yet... a few that were. She lowers her hand, looking at the band on her left ring finger. ...He'd kept it. He'd kept the one she'd given him. She could almost feel it but knew that with Astoria's magic interfering, it's only a memory.

Instead, she sighs:] I returned "home" -- well, as much as any place can be.

[No child of hers would grow up in a marsh, bereft of contact with the outside world. ...she doesn't bother asking where that came from because the answer's already there.]

audio

[lonered]

How long?

[Keith asks the question quietly. He knows it well, how jarring it is to shut your eyes one night and wake up the next morning with so much extra time and experience in your head, written on your body.

And Morrigan is his friend.]

audio

[nogoldenmirror]

[There's a brief pause as she inwardly sighs. How long? Too long. Not long enough. There is a lot she's yet to tell Keith about herself that Shiro already knows, and yet... she sighs again.]

Two years. [Two. Long. Years. And a lot could happen in that time because a lot did happen.]

CLOSED to Shiro

[nogoldenmirror]

[It's roughly half an hour until she stumbles out of her room, closing the door behind her and resting her back against the stone. It was just as she'd been warned about. That it could happen, and yet her mind is still trying to come to terms with it. It was real. It was all real. Morrigan rubs at her eyes, intent to push off and head for the bathhouse first. She needed time to think but also to hear at least another voice or two while it all soaks in. Much as she hates to admit it, she'd grown begrudgingly used to overhearing other's conversations even when she couldn't make them out.

She almost doesn't notice the other shapeshifter inside as she enters, too busy sorting everything out in her head and feeling an ache that has her barely restraining the urge to yell at their captor about ripping her from her son. Their small family again. (And goodness, that is a thought she never believed she'd have.)

Morrigan stops a few feet in front of him, catching the familiar scent first above the scent of the most basic of soaps. Ah.] You were right. [She utters without a single hint of the context.] It does feel surreal.

[Morrigan still doesn't give any context, but the physical changes should give some clues. Hair longer even tied back, angles sharper, and haunted yellow holding less cruelty than they had and a few fading scars along her back from when Urthemiel decided to land behind her and swipe at her back. She'd gained two years and it shows.]

...It is good to see you again.

[spaceforged]

[Shiro opens his eyes and shifts, draping his arms behind him on the outer rim of the bath. He tips his head back and stares. He’s been around Morrigan long enough that the changes are obvious. His eyes widen as he partly turns to face her. His bare chest is covered in scars. His year as a Galra Gladiator and then the war marked his body. Just above his collar bones on the right side is a precise thin scar.

He absently rubs at it. His eyes flick to hers. Her sharp eyes have a slight lessening of intensity as if her fierce spirit has settled a little. He folds his legs under him and makes sure his towel is secure around his waist.]

It’s going to feel that way until you look at your reflection. ...then your head is just a mess. [His brow wrinkles in concern turning completely around to face her.]

Good to see you too. I’m glad you’re back.

[nogoldenmirror]

[To her credit, she does not look lower than his chest. Nor does she comment on the scarring. She's seen her fair share of injuries that would leave marks like that and from the start he'd given her soldier vibes. They are naught but reminders that he's tougher than his calm facade belies.

She frowns before averting her gaze. She may be far too used to it, having traveled with mostly men for so long. She does not know if he is the same.]

I have. [She states the fact plainly as one would the weather.] T'was as though I was drawn to it, though the quiet did not help matters.

[It's all still there, swirling in her head and every part of her is screaming to return to the closest thing they have to the Wilds for some semblance of comfort from the familiar. Yet she remembered the last time and the horde of wyverns and stopped herself. Instead, she wound up here, and sits at the edge of the bath.]

...Thank you. [Morrigan hesitates to say more, running a finger absently around a golden band on her left ring finger. He wasn't kidding; it is a mess if it's enough that she longs for the forest. Though she wonders if that's more the beasts within than the human.]

[spaceforged]

[He turns his back to her and sinks further into the water. His hands slick his hair back out of his eyes. It takes barely a moment of thought before he shifts shape. Hot water runs over metal as he climbs out of the bath and settles at her side. He puts his chin on his paws like a real cat.]

It takes a whole day for it all to settle down.

[he isn’t a flesh and blood beast but he has the general shape. It’s the best he can do for her.]

[nogoldenmirror]

[the image is absurd, but she shakes her head with a chuckle instead of laughing outright. It's appreciated all the same. She pats the paw closest to her before it too becomes one, black fur rolling over her skin with the faint scent of smoke. A full-grown black cat sits where she did, before curling up on herself.]

If that is the case then why only roughly twelve hours? Would it not be easier to wake without this ridiculous sense of disorientation?

[...Yep. Still a survivalist. Some things time simply does not change overnight. Her ears flatten.] ...You could have finished your bath. I simply wanted a place to rest where I wouldn't be flung across a room or grabbed by vines.

[It's said as a joke, but she has had far too many experiences where napping anywhere as a cat typically wound up with her yeeted in some form another. She also didn't trust her own room for that very reason. What in this world did they have against house cats in this place; she'll never understand it.]

Option B

[dadandgone]

[Maes isn't exactly thrilled with the festival. He understands, on some level, what Astoria is perhaps going for with this. However, it doesn't sit well with him. As such, he'd been spending more time away from the Temple. He wanted to give Roy and Hawkeye their space and, after his conversation with Shiro, get his own head in order. Their trip to the space ship had stirred up a lot of old nightmares and old fears. If he was going to be helpful in the future then he needed to pull himself together, be ready for what would inevitably come next.

The fresh air helped. It was in stark contrast to where they had been. He hadn't lived in the woods, the countryside, since his boyhood but like most people he was often fond of places that reminded him of his up bringing. If he didn't have Gracia to calm him, then this was a good runner up.

Apparently he isn't the only one with a desire to be outside and away from the bulk of the Circle. It's not hard to make out Morrigan's form treading the edge of the woods.]

Hey. Looking for something in particular?

[nogoldenmirror]

[Understanding and appreciating the gesture are two separate entities altogether. A concept that Morrigan is far too well versed in, given the self-righteousness of those like the ones sent to hunt her what almost feels akin to a lifetime ago. The scents coming from the forest almost bring those days back, before more recent times with a Dalish clan surface. Entreating them as friend, daughter of Asha'bellanar, and a new mother. Earning their trust to the point their foolish Keeper allowed her to see their carefully-guarded book on eluvians.

The new memories still toy with her as they come, but she shrugs it off and keeps moving. Though now she had to wonder, if she had this more extensive knowledge... would Akvos have turned out differently? Bah, that was a fool's errand to even remotely consider-

She blinks, having stopped at a portion of land that was relatively flat when she hears a voice she could have sworn she'd heard before, but was having difficulty placing for a brief moment until she turns around.]

Ah. The vine-loved man with glasses. [To her credit, she doesn't recall if they ever traded names. Only witty comments while being caught in vines together.] I was scouting locations for a greenhouse, though I fear other... matters caught up with me.

[Such as now seeming at least two years older since their misadventure with naps and vines.]

[dadandgone]

The what now? [It's not exactly a common greeting. He then recalls the days he'd spent preparing for their next venture. He hadn't been sent home, but everything that had occurred on the space ship had done a lot to make him forget small things like getting tangled in some vines. He chuckles.] If that's supposed to be a nick name, it's a bit of a mouthful. It's Hughes, Maes Hughes.

[He steps a little closer now, examining the area.]

A greenhouse, huh? What gave you the idea for that?

[nogoldenmirror]

[Morrigan waits as the dawning realization begins to creep over his face like the sun upon the horizon that she so kindly slept through. Ah, there it is.] Well, t'is certainly better than a few I have given to others in the past.

[And those were the ones she didn't get their names from before. Like Maes, here. At the very least, t'was more humorous than what could have been. Most of those she didn't get names from tended to die by her hand back home. Hm, now that she thinks about it... perhaps congratulations were in order? Ah well.]

I had the idea for a while. I am a herbalist, and one does typically require a steady stream of supplies for medications. Only, there was not much time to get started before the last... excursion. [Excursion was putting it mildly. She frowns, nose wrinkling slightly at the scent memory that comes all too easily. Thanks, jumbled mess, for providing that one so quickly.] Though I won't lie, their rotted little gardening project had given me a few ideas.

...And you may call me Morrigan.

[dadandgone]

Ah, well in that case, I suppose I'll just have to take it.

[There were indeed certainly worse nicknames out there. Besides, ultimately it doesn't really bother him so much as he's wondering where she learned how to give out names like that. Everyone had their own style he supposed.]

Nice to have a name after the meeting, Morrigan.

[But back to the matter at hand.]

That's not a bad idea. It really would have come in handy when that sickness was going around the temple and I imagine there will be instances in the future where these people who can heal might not have access to that ability.

[He can certainly think of a few times where he could have used a pain killer if nothing else.]


I've done a little gardening, but never anything that ambitious. So what do you need? I imagine wood for the frame of the structure, but I'm not sure where you're going to find the glass or whatever they use to keep it warm in there.

open A

[flask]

[As much as Molly likes festivals, Nott isn't as much of a fan. Generally, she likes any excuse to drink, but that doesn't mean she ever needs one. And, well... though her appearance comes into less question here than it ever did within the Empire, she still has trouble feeling like she's being stared at everywhere she goes.

So enter a three-foot creature trying very much to look as if she is not a creature, apparently, if the white porcelain face mask, hood, and odd bandages covering her green skin and other notable features is any indication. Nott is surprised to find someone else in here, since the festival has so much food on offer, and more surprised when the instant offer to share comes.

A high, thin voice hesitantly answers.]

Oh. Okay.

[She squints at the pot and then... serves herself a bowl, because why not. And grabs a glass of water while she's at it. When she removes her mask, a set of yellowed teeth not entirely unlike a bear trap kept in poor repair is revealed.

She takes a sip from the glass, and then casually asks,]

Is this poisoned?

[nogoldenmirror]

[Talking, not immediately fighting her. Not a threat. One of her "friends" was a rock golem. It takes a bit to frighten her. Though the face mask thing does get her to raise one eyebrow. She serves herself a bowl afterwards and frowns, stirring it for a few seconds before the question reaches her.

Morrigan other eyebrow joins the first in raising.] Well, I would certainly hope not considering I am also eating out of it.

[She even takes a bite. See? No poison.] I understand the reasoning, however. After the madness that occurred prior to our last world "visit" I would be concerned, too.

[She hasn't been able to look at cookies the same way since.]

[flask]

Maybe your power is that you're impervious to poison.

[The logic of a pathologically paranoid individual, but logic nonetheless. In a way, it makes sense, but is so contrived and specific it almost certainly isn't true.

Anyway, Nott stops for a moment to try and remember what happened before the spacecraft thing. Hm. Most of it was spent uproariously drunk. The thing that she remembers most is the attacking plants.

Oh well. She shrugs and decides to just go for it anyway, taking a spoonful. She really is very hungry, and she's no cook herself, so avoiding the big crowds means this is probably her best chance at a decent meal that doesn't involve stealing someone's pet.]

...It's very tasty poison. I've got it! Your power is... super cooking.

[nogoldenmirror]

[Impervious to poison. My, wouldn't that be a trick to pull off. T'would certainly ruin the days of who knows how many enemies she'd made if that were true, but no. She was just as susceptible to it as anyone else.

Whether this odd person wanted to believe that or not, however? It made little difference to her until she attempted to test the theory. Noting the confusion on her face, Morrigan simply shrugs and returns to her own bowl. Content to simply allow the silence to reign. It doesn't last. Especially at the assumption that Astoria was the reason she was good with cooking utensils and knowing what paired great with what.

Morrigan barks a laugh.] Believe me, were that the reason I would save the creature the trouble of sending us off to other worlds to die.

[Bad enough the real reason haunts her every time she looks in the mirror. Thanks, Alistair.]

No, I'm afraid my mother's terrible cooking is the true reason for that one. [And it's likely the last freebie this strange person is getting thanks to the insult. As unintended as it may be.]

[flask]

[Nott flinches at the barked laugh and the quick shift in the woman's tone. Ah, fuck. Okay. Not... Not a joker, this one. Not a big laughing girl.

That's fine, really. Nott's unintentionally insulted pretty much everyone she's ever met. Mostly due to her existence in general, but she also happens to be extremely tactless. So, you know. This is not entirely an unexpected route for the conversation to take.

Okay, so... she hates Astoria. Fair. Nott has her own misgivings on that lady. She also seems to be a little peeved at her mom for some reason? Sure, we can probably guess that much.

This all runs through Nott's mind as she quickly downs the entire rest of her glass of water and then looks mildly affronted at it for being so finite. She then looks back at the chef with a very forced smile (marred by her lack of proper dentistry and Very Wide Eyes) and tries to recover the situation. Poorly.]

Taught yourself then! That's pretty admirable! Me, I'm, uh, not good at pretty much anything, but... people love a good cook! Ha ha!

A

[weremongoose]

[Barabas isn't exactly a fan of the festivities after their return. It feels wrong to him, and he's done his best to avoid them. But hunger and restlessness brings him to the kitchen anyway.

And something smells delicious, enough so that when Morrigan says help yourself, he's certainly about to do just that.

But something in her tone catches his attention, and he turns to face her fully.]

Morrigan?

[She looks older. Ah. Barabas thinks he knows what this is.]

[nogoldenmirror]

[Welcome to the club, though she only wishes that were the only excuse she has to use for avoiding the festivities. But then, she hasn't understood the use of them much either.

She pauses when she recognizes the scent and the voice, blinking. Oh spirits, this truly has messed with her head if she didn't recognize that one right away.

The scars are, thankfully, mostly on her back and magically healed. None on her face at all. Yet that doesn't stop Morrigan from blinking back surprise, taking a moment to focus before facing him completely. ...She can't quite help the automatic, slight and wry smile.]

Barabas.

[He may not be wrong about that hunch, either.]

[weremongoose]

I get the sense that it's been a while.

[He begins, voice gentle, even as a smile starts on his own face in answer. He is moving to start retrieving a kettle.]

I'm putting on tea, care for any?

[And maybe a chat?]

[nogoldenmirror]

It has, and it has not.

[Leave it to a mage to be somewhat odd while being truthful. She gets out two bowls while he moves.]

Certainly. [To both. It'll keep her from doing something stupid.]

[weremongoose]

Yeah. I know how that goes.

[Too well. He puts on kettle and pulls down a pair of cups before starting to see what there is to offer for tea. Sparing a glance back at Morrigan, he smiles faintly.]

Feel like talking about it? From personal experience, it might help sort it all out.