thecapitol | The world’s a beast of a burden;

Entry tags:

The world’s a beast of a burden;

Who| DA cast, assorted 4th wall visitors, anyone else who wants to tag into their dreams!
What| 4th wall event Dragon Age style
Where| ~dreamland~
When| all this week at nighttime though I suppose people can have 'wtf' threads during the day, too!
Warnings/Notes| DRAGON AGE: THIS CAST HAS ISSUES. likely mentions of rape, torture, abuse, death, murder, with an interspersing of gross fluff.

With how many of their goals tend to intersect and overlap, it's only a given that when the Capitol creates the Dream world that those of Thedas would find themselves in each other's dreams, in some sense or another. Even if they aren't all from the same Thedas, this place has connected them, in some way. For better, or for worse.

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Day 2

Standing in the courtyard of Skyhold, Adella knows it isn't real. There's always a chill in the air in the mountains, it's always the tiniest bit too cold, but right now it's beautiful. It feels just right, and it fills her heart to stand there, looking around and seeing her soldiers not far off practicing sparring in the training yard. She feels herself smiling, looking around for the others, her companions.

"It is far too beautiful a day to just be standing here, there must be something we can get up to."

Day 3

In a perfect world, Corypheus has been defeated, crushed under the force of the Inquisition. Adella's an advisor more than anything now, rather than having to hold together an entire patchwork organization by the seams, she's overseeing it from comfort, a room full of overstuffed chairs and bookshelves overflowing onto the floor.

Arcane tools are kept neatly in a corner, things of knowledge and study that she isn't using. The reality will flicker easily shifting into other things, because Adella's mind isn't so easily made up on what she wants for her future. One conversation she could still be in Skyhold, overseeing and liaising with the Divine, in another she's somewhere in Ferelden, and the sounds of laughing children can just barely be heard from the other side of her door. The only consistency within her fantasies is a simple gold ring around her left finger, a detail that she's paying very little mind as she sifts through her books.

[ ooc: Feel free to choose any of the seven days listed - I'm writing up prompts for specific scenarios, but any others are fine as well! ]

Day 1

Any visitors on the first day will find Cullen in relatively good spirits, if slightly troubled by recent events, but willing to show them around the Capitol and marvel at the technology on hand.

Day 2

Much like Adella's dream, Cullen is in bustling Skyhold. He will spar with anyone who has a mind to, play a game of chess, show them his office, or even the throne room in the main keep.

"There is much to prepare for, but we have time for a break now and then," he explains to his guests.

Day 3

Cullen's paradise is also Skyhold, but one much changed from the 'real' Skyhold of Day 2. The faces are happier, less lined with worry. The military presence isn't as strong, and in their place are all kinds of different people - nobles, traders, mages, Chantry Mothers, peasants seeking blessings. Cullen walks among them comfortably, at ease. He's clearly home.

He may be found running some recruits through some drills - just because the war is over doesn't mean they don't still need to be in tip-top shape. Or filling out paperwork. Or playing with a gaggle of children, many of whom look more than a little bit like him. And he wears a plain gold band on his left hand.

Day 6 [Warning: torture, violence]

Anyone who finds Cullen's dream on day 6 will be confronted with a horrific sight. Rather than the Cullen they know, he looks rather different - younger, perhaps, especially with the hair curling a bit around his face. But that's not what's so striking about this day's events.

The armor he wears bears a flaming sword, as does that of the other men and women around him. They are in a chamber in what appears to be a tower of some kind, and there are... things with them. Cullen appears bound, though the bindings are invisible, and he watches, helplessly, as one by one his fellow Templars are brutally murdered by the demons before his eyes.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but he still hears the screams, and he mumbles a prayer now and again - for the souls of his brothers and sisters, and for the Maker to guide him.

The demons do other things to him as well. He's the youngest of the Templars, and eventually, he's the only one left. Confined in an invisible cage, bound and forced to endure torments of all kinds - they torture him physically, of course, the one that looks like a purple-skinned woman with horns and a tail whispering salaciously in his ear as he screams in pain.

And at other times, the torment is much more subtle. Given access to Cullen's memory, visitors will occasionally see the things the demons made him see - visions of a young woman in mage robes, pretty in an ethereal way, her face a rictus of pain, or a quiet comfort only to be ripped away from him again.

The demons tempt him - they offer him all kinds of things. The woman in the mage robes, the power to destroy someone called Uldred, power of all kinds, really. The power to bring back his friends. In exchange for, well. Himself.

And each time, no matter what they do, no matter what torments he is subjected to, he denies them. Turns away from them, repeats prayers to the Maker for strength.

"You will not have me!" he cries, on his knees in his prison, his head bowed, the smell of death all around him.

They come too late. With Gregoir pulling his Templars back, it's up to the rag-tag group of four to fight their way through the Tower towards the top, where they hope the First Enchanter is still alive. When they enter the chamber with the stairs leading up, Leliana is saddened to see more Templar bodies sprawled across the floor. Poor souls. May the Maker guide them.

But the strange shield is something new and past it she sees that one man survives. One that their leader seems to know as she calls him by name.

"The poor thing," Leliana says, voice filled with sympathy. "He must have been deprived of food and water for days. Here, I have a skin of water." She reaches for it on her belt, wanting to aid him.

Skyhold is such a lovely place, and now Harding can spend more time here. She keeps in top shape, often practicing her archery, and sometimes her stealth, though not so much after she scared the cook into dropping a pie. But life is good here. She and her parents in Denerim exchange letters often, but she's still wary of bringing them to Skyhold. The Inquisition is a pretty juicy target for anybody, and she wants her family safe. Besides, it's like the Inquisition is her second family.

On this day, she opens the door to the Commander's office, a young boy in tow.

"Missing one, ser?" she asks, meaning a member of his little army of children.

Day 2- Back home

Did you get sent to the 14th arena? No, but this castle bares some resemblance to it. However, instead of death and abandonment, the castle courtyard is full of bustle and chatter, laughing and the clanging of metal as people train. There's a pleasant bubbling of conversation that turns excited as the thick wooden doors swing open. You can hear the shouts 'The Warden-Commander is back!' as all the faces turn to the doors.

And into the courtyard of Vigil's Keep enters Tabris, dressed like a proper warrior Warden, a massive axe on her back, and at her side, a massive mastiff dog, which much be the mabari that Tabris loved talking about. She strolls in like she owns the place, because she does, and looks around with a proud grin. This was where she belonged. How did she get back here? Who cared? She had a Keep to run, and she raised her hand to the people milling around. Look at these people, look at this place. The Wardens that stopped to salute her as she walks past. Her people. Those other people...she couldn't place faces right now. But that didn't matter, she was here now. Other people didn't matter.

"Hello, hello! I hope you all didn't miss me too terribly? Haven't replaced me yet?" She laughed, and stopped, as she was approached, turning to face them. "Hello! Got something for me to do, have you? Any darkspawn hordes needed culling? A giant to wrestle? I knew it'd start up as soon as I got back." She didn't look bothered, though. Wasn't this her element? Being the one in charge, the one who took care of all the problems?

Day 3- Paradise

The scene is a little peaceful cottage, just outside of the woods. The City of Amaranthine is a little bit out, close enough to get to in a few hours walk, but distant enough to keep its problems to itself. On the cottage grounds, there's also a bustle--But not nearly as many people. This time, it's a handful of animals that mull around. Puppies bark and wrestle with each other, or chase chickens through the yards. Two children race around, occasionally stopping to save the chickens from being harassed by the puppies.

The mother of the humans, and the father of the puppies sit together on the edge of a raised garden. Now, Tabris is wearing a simple dress, and has a sling around her chest with a baby nestled inside, sleeping peacefully. The elf is plucking tomatoes from a vine in the garden, inspecting them, before putting them in a basket. Occasionally, she'll hold one out to the aging Mabari at her feet. He sniffs at the tomato, and either gives an approving wuff or shakes his head. Every so often, he'll snatch the tomato from her hand, and eat it, earning him a little huff, and a laugh.

Every so often, a familiar man pokes his head out of the cottage, grinning at Tabris. She turns to face Alistair, a soft smile on her face as they swap idle chatter. Then he ducks back in, with much kissing blowing between them. After a moment, she looks up to see another person, and grins sheepishly, ducking her head. "Oh, Andraste, you didn't see that, did you?"

Day 6- Worst Memory

warning: rape/assault mentions

Back to castles. This one, however, is very different--Those from Thedas may recognize the Arl of Denerim's estate. The atmosphere is tense, and it's not hard to see why. There's a slew of corpses that litter the ground, all men in a guard's uniform. Some have arrows sticking out of them, but most have been hewn apart with some kind of weapon. Following the trail of bodies and you're in for a sight.

It's obvious that it's Tabris, but a decade younger, barely an adult. She's in a wedding dress, that had probably been beautiful at some point. Now, it's marred by blood spatters everywhere. The source of the blood is clear, as she's currently fighting more of the guards like the ones she left rotting in the hallways. Her fighting isn't nearly as trained as is now, it's a lot more of swinging madly, but she's got plenty of the mad to her, and the guards fall. She heaves a ragged breath as she dislodges her large sword out of one of the bodies, and turns to a body in the middle of the room.

This one is different from the others. A rather handsome elf with no armor, Tabris falls to her knees next to him, reaching to touch his face, smearing blood on his blond hair. A red-headed elf who bore some semblance to Tabris watched from a corner, clutching his bow tightly. "Oh, Revas...I'm sorry. I can't believe they killed him! Are you--I mean. Are you a widow now...?"

"Soris," Tabris says, voice soft as she reaches for the dead man's hand. "Shut up." And he does, face still worried as he watches his cousin slip a ring off of the dead elf. She stares at it for a few moments, and while in the dream it's brand new, it's still recognizable to anyone from Panem that this is Tabris' token. She slips the wedding ring on to her own hand, and stands up, gripping the sword.

Then, just noticing the other person, she starts, raising her sword up. "Are you here to help us? We've got to save the other girls, before--" Her face darkens for a moment, looking away. "--Before he can hurt them." If he hasn't already.

[[OOC Note: If you wanted another day, let me know and I'll make the prompt!]]

Edited 2015-07-28 21:31 (UTC)

It's hard to tell what kind of dream this is supposed to be. She climbs the stairs, and it's all familiar. The blood, the gore. It's not the worst memory of her life, but it's certainly unpleasant. She steps around more of the bulbous gore, making a face. "Ugh...Do I have to fight Uldred again. I hated fighting him, having to use those scrolls--"

And she comes up to the entrance to the chamber, and there's Cullen's little bubble--But it's different, this time. The demons are there, and her face goes aghast in horror. It's different, seeing them. It's different, knowing this man as she does, now. Seeing them hurt him. She snarls, and takes out her axe, bearing on the demons.

Having successfully solved that problem with violence, Tabris turns to the next problem, and attempts to puzzle it out in a similar manner. She delivers the bubble a swift kick, nearly toppling over. "Cullen! Cullen is that you, or is this a weird dream thing? C'mon! We're busting you out." It's a dream, not real life, right? That means that the bubble isn't held by any rules. She gives it another kick, scowling. Last time, she hadn't done anything for the man. Just shrugged off his pleas to kill everyone, and assure him that she'd take care of it.

But this was different.

Leliana smirks a little at her friend, moving around the tomato plants to greet her. "Saw what? You and Alistair being utterly adorable?" She chuckles, giving Tabris a fond look. "It is sweet." The one time bard is dressed for traveling, but has her bow and quiver secure on her back. It's clear she's just arrived here, though from where, who can say?

"Now let me see this little one," she states, wanting to see the baby Tabris carries.

There's some part of Loghain that knows he's not supposed to be here; everything seems hyper-real, too bright to look at and the sounds too sharp, harsh on the ear. The smell in the air is all too familiar: the copper tang of blood filling his nostrils and making some primal part of him stir, ready for combat. He's not certain how he got to Denerim either, and while he wants to find whoever's responsible for dropping him here in the middle of this, the young woman approaching him takes priority. The affair of elves mean little to him, but such slaughter in the estate of the Arl of Denerim could be a political disaster, not to mention that he can't find it in him to turn her away, memories of his mother fresh in his mind. He's not about to let any nobleman take advantage of other women like that, not if he can help it.

"Lead the way."

[Day 6]

Fire danced in his hand. Conjuring it felt like he was taking a deep breath of fresh air. It felt right, yet everything he knew made its very existence wrong. For a moment he simply stared at the flames before his senses clicked into place and he hurled the spell at a nearby demon.

He shouldn't have been there. The demons, the blood on the floor, the bodies were all stories to him. He had heard about Uldred's betrayal. He knew the disaster that befell the Circle. Yet, this was not his story.

Anders had escaped before the blood mages started to tear the tower apart. The tower had been filled with children, with men and women who were just stepping into adult hood. They were all so young then, and yet their bodies...Where was he? What dream was this?

Then the bubble came into view, and he heard the cries.

For the first time in a long time he felt pity for a Templar.

“Maker take me” he muttered, before more fire sprung into his hands.

“Oh, no my lady! I did not see the hero of Fereldan and her heroic white knight exchanging romantic pleasantries shamelessly. Why, don't pay any mind to your friend Anders and his heartbreaking loneliness!”

The mage flashed a grin, looking down at a large orange tabby. “What say you, Sir-Pounce-A-Lot? Did we see their gooey affection? No?” He shrugged his shoulders at the elf, still smiling broadly. “Well, the cat claims not to have seen anything but what does he know”.

The man looks younger, or at least less stressed and haggard by the life he leads. There is almost a spring in his step as he came close to the woman, peering over to get a good look at the bundle she cuddled close to her body.

“Why, is this the handsome young one then? Rumor has it you named him Anders. I am beyond flattered, by the way” he teased.

Adella had heard Cullen speak about what had happened to him at Kinloch Hold. She'd never pried too deeply, because she didn't want to hurt him. She can plainly see now that that was a smart choice.

At first it's like she's observing, watching the things happening to him without being able to stir and take action. It breaks her heart, watching the demons come at him, try to twist him, watching him resist. The second she feels like she can move, break free from whatever spell holds her passive she is a force of unbridled terror, calling up ice and fire alike to strike down every creature in the room. Once the only thing moving is herself and Cullen she moves to the barrier, pressing her hands up against it, feeling the magic pulse there, seeking a way to unbind it.

"Cullen," She calls out to him, pain on her face as she stands there unable to touch him. "Love, do you hear me?"

Day 6

Adella's nightmare begins on the day her Circle fell. The Circle may have been a dull place at times, but it was her home, and she had grown and learned there. She didn't want to see it destroyed. The templars had held a neutrality for a while, but pockets of rebellious students had risen up. There were younger templars, who were arrogant in thinking they had the authority, when so many others had been slaughtered, on both sides, already.

Adella is only a few years younger than she is in reality, though her hair is longer and the scar and tattoo both are gone from her left eye, somehow making her look even younger. She's running down the spiralling hall of the Tower, following sounds of screaming. Every once in a while she pauses over a body of a young mage, checking for a pulse with shaking hands and suppressing a sob when she finds none.

She stumbles upon the body of an older woman, surrounded by Templars and mages alike, and drops to her knees, reaching out to touch the woman's face.

"First Enchanter... no. Andraste, please, we need her to survive," Adella whispers into the air, her eyes growing bright with tears she's been forcing back. The older woman stirs, and looks at Adella, as though it is a great effort.

"The children... Adella, you must protect them." Is all the woman manages, before growing still. Gasping in a breath Adella rises, moving again among the bodies and screams.

She comes on a lower chamber, a young templar standing against a group of scared apprentices, their already slain teacher lying at his feet. The templar's eyes are wild, and he raises his sword, fit to come crashing down on the youngest of the children huddled there, no more than eight years of age.

Adella throws herself in the way, taking the blade in the face, momentarily stopping him from killing the apprentice mages, but blood covers her face and pain as much as the templar knock her to the floor.

"Insolent bitch! Die like you should have the day you drew breath!" the templar screams, raising his sword again to strike a killing blow.

Day 7

War is familiar to Adella. She wears mage battle armor and holds her staff tight in her hand as she fights, the green mark on her hand flashing every time she sweeps it over the battlefield, using the power of the Rifts to decimate those in her path.

She fights because she knows there's nothing left. Corypheus stands on a mountain of bones ahead of her, unattainable, the corpses of those she knows and loves lying between him and her. She can't give up though. She'll die before she lets their deaths mean nothing.

Edited 2015-07-29 00:36 (UTC)

Day 3

Anders' dream easily swims between one world and the next, but each time the man sits with a little girl on his lap. Her small hands are palm-up in his larger ones, her tiny face calm and concentrated. Soft words of encouragement come from the man, and the girl's face lights up brighter and brighter.

Eventually a small spark, a tiny flame no larger than that at the end of a candle, burts to life in her hands. “Daddy!” she gasps, glee pouring from her.

“I knew you could do it” he beams, kissing her brown hair.. Brown eyes look up, and he grins wide. “It's wonderful, isn't it?” he asks the person near by, proud beyond measure.

Day 6

Every breath he drew in felt like ice cutting through his lungs. He wanted to retch. The smell of burning flesh, the sight of the bodies littering the forest- not just bodies, but limbs, parts torn and thrown. It was if some demon had-

The pit in his stomach grew deeper. No demon had done this. He had done this.

Emptiness consumed him. The Templars and Wardens were going to kill him. One had driven a sword deep into his chest. He had been defending himself. He had just wanted to live. He had-

He had burned them so hot their flesh had melted. Anders had ripped bones from their bodies like they were leaves from a tree. Rolan's head had pulled from his shoulders like it was attached by a string.

Body trembling the man could do nothing but stare at the destruction he had caused. Destruction his own two hands had caused, not just his magic.

Killing a man was one thing, but this? This was mindless slaughter. Pointless slaughter.

Justified slaughter. They were villains. They were going to him. They were going to turn mages tranquil. They were fiends, and liars, and deserved to die.

As he stood there his mind raced in circles, chasing his thoughts only to be distracted by those of Justice. There was no longer a difference. He struggled to remember what he believed.

This is wrong, he repeated, eyes shutting tight against the massacre. This is wrong. This is not Justice. This is wrong. They deserved it. This is wrong.

The vision is strange to him - Cullen is, quite frankly, horrifically confused as to where he is, what's happening, even the date.

The one thing he does know, however, even as the vaguely familiar woman offers him a skin of water - is that he cannot trust anything - or anyone - he sees.

"No!" He shouts, scrambling back. "Get away, foul demon! You cannot tempt me!"

Cullen looks up as the door opens, and his face breaks into a smile - at the sight of Harding? Perhaps, but more likely the sight of the toddler she's got by the hand.

"Ah, Cal, there you are," he says, standing and scooping the mop-headed boy up into his arms. "Thank you, Scout Harding. I hope he wasn't getting into anything he shouldn't?"

Cullen's not terribly worried about his children being endangered around Skyhold - the keep is safe enough, and everyone knows them by sight.

Of course, the trouble with Cullen and dreams and memories of Kinloch is that he gets very easily confused as to what's real and what isn't. Having one's sense of reality toyed with like a cat toys with a mouse is liable to shake even the strongest mind, and being brought to this place just returns that sense of not knowing, not being sure.

That uncertainty makes him afraid, and for a moment, he doesn't even quite recognize Tabris.

"Who are - what - no, no, this isn't real, you're not -"

Cullen knows this man - vaguely. Even in the haze of pain and confusion and not knowing what's real and what's illusion, he has the spark of recognition.

Unfortunately, it's not always a good thing, and for the moment, all Cullen sees is another of his tormentors.

"Mage," he hisses, backing away, his face contorting with fear and anger. "Has Uldred let you off your leash? Have you come to finish me?"

Cullen is confused, and frightened, and weary, and in pain. And, quite frankly, he has no idea what's real and what's imagined anymore. The demons saw to that over ten years ago - are seeing to that, all over again.

Living a memory, he's been swimming in a sea of faces that used to be familiar, but her - hers is - newer, somehow. Not Amell, not the boyhood infatuation, but something else. Love, she calls him.

His senses scream mage and danger, but another part of him wants to reach for her, or try to protect her.

"Who - what are -?" He looks at her, backs away. "You're not real. One of their - their tricks -" He doesn't sound so certain, though.

Cullen strides inside the little house, the voices of children coming from out in the garden, wearing not his usual armor but simple tunic and breeches, his hair slightly ruffled from being outside and a light sheen of sweat on his skin from the exertion of playing with a number of small children.

"Keeping busy, my love?" he asks, wrapping an arm around Adella's waist and dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

"I certainly did. Just give me a second to turn away and throw up." Shianni turns away, but lets out a laugh before looking back. Now appearing a little older and wiser, her face relaxes with a warm smile. Although age and wisdom doesn't stop her from making little teasing quips about Revas's husband. The man, though a shem, has proven himself to be someone Shianni can trust. Any friend of Revas is a friend of Shianni's, but that doesn't mean anyone is spared from her little verbal jabs. Some just get laced with more affection than others.

"How are you, cousin?" She doesn't need to ask, given the sight of the happy children and all, but it's what one asks especially when they stop by to visit.

Every confused, fearful look is like a dagger directly in her heart. She can't pass the barrier, the magic holding it in place is something unfamiliar. Maybe that simply had to do with the dream.

"I'm the only thing here that is real, Cullen," she replies as gently as she can, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she watches him, desperately trying to think of a way to convince him. "This is a dream. We're in the Fade." Or at least something very close. Adella had stepped through dreams before, though she'd only learned how to be aware of it with Solas's help. This felt much the same. "What Uldred did was years ago. You need to take control. Try to take this barrier down."

He still flinches away from her, on instinct, despite wanting to believe her. Wanting it to be true.

"How do I know this - you - aren't a trick?" he asks, suspicion in his voice. "I can't - nothing is - tell me who you are."

Leliana jumps a little at his reaction before she steps back, composing herself. As terrible as this is, they need to focus on what they can do for him, even if he doesn't want their help. Instead she asks the Warden if the barrier can be broken, but it doesn't look possible. It looks like they need to find the one who cast the barrier and make them dispel it.

"We'll get you help, I promise," she says. "No demon will hurt you anymore."

Once the boy is turned over, she stands with her hands casually clasped behind her back. It's good to see the Commander like this. Usually he's so sedate and... uptight.

"Not that I could see. Mainly I was worried he'd come across Sera, and the next thing you know, Dorian would be missing half a mustache and the Ambassador would be covered in paint. You know how she tries to rope people into her pranks."

Arya could almost believe she was back in the last Arena, finding herself in the forest with the smell of death all around her. She instinctively reaches for a weapon but finds none, so simply balls her hands into fists and hopes that will provide her with some protection from whatever is out there and caused this carnage. She weaves her way through the scattered body parts, not fazed at all by the destruction except in as far as she worries about her own safety - she's far too used to being around death for that.

When she sees Anders ahead of her she knows she should run the other way, that he must have caused this, but instead she continues tentatively forward. There must be some explanation.

"...Anders?"

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The world’s a beast of a burden;

ADELLA; DAY 2/3

Cullen; pick your poison! WARNING: Torture both physical and psychological, violence

DAY 6

DAY 3

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Day Six

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Day 6

ADELLA; DAY 6/7

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Day 3!!!

3 because la la la la la

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