exequy: (Default)
Kostos Averesch ([personal profile] exequy) wrote in [community profile] faderift2022-07-26 11:20 am

open | full circle pt 2

WHO: Many people, mostly mages and rifters and Templars/Seekers
WHAT: Stop that Circle!
WHEN: Late Solace
WHERE: The College of Magi, Cumberland, Nevarra
NOTES: OOC post! Please note we are not doing the points game part yet. But we will later and your tags will still count then.


I. THE JOURNEY

After the meeting, there's time to talk, pack (lightly), and get a full night's sleep. But after an early breakfast the next morning, everyone heads up to the eyrie at the top of the Gallows' central tower to load onto griffons.

They do it with the sanction of the Division Heads, accompanied by some rules, like no violence, and some mandatory company. A few Templars (and a Seeker) are sent along with them, in Riftwatch uniform rather than their more traditional and more inflammatory armor. Mages and rifters and interested others have the choice of donning their uniforms or not.

The trip to Cumberland is short an uneventful. Trained griffon riders and the animals they've bonded with lead the flock, but other griffons follow cooperatively behind, each carrying one or two riders and their effects. The group lands once or twice in the Planascene Forest to stretch their legs, have a meal, etc., while the griffons help themselves to a buffet of wildlife. A few of those without bonded riders might need some extra persuasion to get back in line, when it's time to go, but nothing goes significantly wrong.

II. THE COLLEGE OF MAGI

It's late and dark when they swoop down on the city, but the College of Magi is easy to spot, because it's a palace with a hammered-gold dome roof that shines in the moonlight. The griffons land and consent to being tethered in an enclosed courtyard that, after years of neglect, is no worse off if they trample the greenery a bit. The doors inside are guarded not by Templars, but by Cumberland city guards assigned to keep looters out of the palace in the mages' absences. Once they've taken in the presence of the griffons and uniforms, they put up no resistance to Riftwatch's entrance.

Inside, the halls are quiet and opulent: in addition to the famous collection of sandstone busts of every Grand Enchanter from the last 600 years lining the entrance hall, there are marble pillars, bright frescoes, vases, art, gilded vines crawling the walls. Everything shines and glitters in the light from the braziers on the walls.

The mage who comes scuttling down the hall to give them a bewildered greeting, robes flapping and a basket of bread on his arm, is Senior Enchanter Erfried Neumayer, noted Loyalist, formerly of Hossberg. He is well into his nineties, spry but mostly blind, and very friendly. He explains, eventually and in pieces, that they have not even started the conclave, unaware they might have needed to rush, and the others are currently having a late dinner and an idle chat in the dining hall. Thus the bread.

The rest of the mages are not glad to see them, albeit mostly in a polite and/or passive-aggressive way. They make a fuss about not being prepared to house or feed any additional participants, but in the end do show everyone to one of the bunk bed-filled rooms that used to house apprentices.

The first night and every night afterwards, Riftwatch has overnight watches—not to watch for danger, but to make sure the other mages don't sneak around and convene while they're asleep. (A few of them might be caught trying to organize exactly that.) The beds are musty from years of disuse but otherwise fine. Food is grudgingly provided.

Before, after, and between sessions on the floor, there's time to explore the palace. Said to have been donated by a Duchess to keep her mage child in the comfort she was accustomed to, the College is an arguably over-the-top display of wealth and comfort, dusty from disuse but still overflowing with gilding and cushions, baths and kettles enchanted to heat and cups enchanted to cool and dozens of other magical novelties that make life a little more comfortable, art and a badminton field and a massive library. The Harrowing Chamber looks like a place where someone would be honored to complete a rite of passage; the dungeon exists but is small, clean, and devoid of spooky skeletons. It's exactly the sort of place that could serve as evidence that living in a Circle was great, actually.

III. THE CONCLAVE

The conclave, such as it is, begins the next morning, in a room whose domed mahogany ceiling has had it dubbed the Red Auditorium. It's designed to hold a few hundred attendees at a time, so the fifty or so Loyalists (and Aequitarians and Lucrosians) and dozen-plus Riftwatchers have plenty of elbow room.

At least in a parliamentary sense, Senior Enchanter Erfried is in charge—to Riftwatch's benefit. The Loyalist Contingent leads with an attempt to ignore Riftwatch's presence and ram their proposal through with no further discussion or procedure on numbers alone, but Erfried is a stickler for the rules. The name of the game is delay, distract, divert.

Fortunately, the mages prove delayable, distractible, and divertable. Creating a record of attendees and participants devolves into a series of short debates about who counts as a Circle Enchanter anymore and whether rifters have any right to be there, which easily take up half a day. From there, arguments about whether the Conclave has met all the finicky requirements to actually count as a Conclave swallow a few hours as well. Unfortunately, two witnesses profess a messenger was sent to alert the Grand Enchanter, and there's no evidence she did not reach it, so Erfried allows things to continue. In theory. Having spent so much of the day on procedural matters, there's no time to get into substance before adjourning for the evening.

Breakfast the next morning is interrupted by the arrival of the small team Riftwatch sent to alert the rebel mages at the front—and by Grand Enchanter Fiona herself, riding behind Ellie on Artichoke. She's only one mage, but she's an angry and important one. And others are coming. She makes a show of being concerned about whether it will be enough people to counteract the fifty-odd Loyalists, to avoid inspiring them to work too hard, but within Riftwatch, word gets around that they'll definitely have the numbers. All they have to do is stall.

The Loyalists do make every effort to resume the proceedings and make progress toward voting on their proposal. How unfortunate that circumstances prevent it. (Invent your own circumstances. Filibustering, general chaos, and minor property damage are all fair game.)

IV. THE CALVARY & THE DEBATE

The Grand Enchanter's people arrive only a few hours later than expected. There are easily a hundred of them—enough to doom the proposal, certainly. There's a sense of doom among the Loyalists when the proceedings resume. A few leave early in defeat. But the rest stick around, as they finally, finally proceed into discussing and voting on the substance of the proposal, and make fairly impassioned arguments on its behalf.

They evoke the history of the Circles: a compromise that saved them from being hunted by the early Inquisition and from being confined in Chantries to do nothing with their gifts but keep the fires lit. The hundreds of years of peace (they say) compared to what's come before and what will come after.

They say there was a mage child in the Nahashin Marshes, turned out by his illiterate and reclusive family, who appears to have lived alone for several years before recently reappearing, warped from possession, to slaughter his entire village. A town in Antiva realized a few of its new residents were mages and burned their house down, killing one and leaving the others with nowhere to go. A young fellow who'd wandered away from the Inquisition's camps once he came of age was caught picking pockets in Ferelden's West Hill and, in his attempts to flee, froze all of the tavern's occupants solid. Several didn't survive the thawing. They report—with no actual statistics, but a few anecdotes—that incidents of (child abuse cw) suspicious child drownings are on the rise. They ask, rhetorically, whether rifters think they will be left in peace by their neighbors when Riftwatch is gone.

And they go on for quite some time about their responsibility to Thedas. The risk of mages amassing power and establishing dynasties—a hundred years stand between that and a new Tevinter, optimistically. The risk of kings and emperors seizing control of the mages within their own borders, if mages are beholden to them rather than to the Chantry, and wielding them against their own people or their neighbors.

They have a reason for every item in the proposal. It's all very depressing and very sincere. A sizable number of the rebel mages from the front are moved by the presentation of the problem, if not convinced that their solution is correct.

But in addition to talking (and talking and talking), they also listen. They don't really have a choice, now that they're outnumbered. While only Circle Enchanters are technically permitted to vote in the College, Erfried will give anyone the floor for at least a few minutes. And between impassioned speeches, there are regular recesses when the Red Auditorium dissolves into more private conversations. Some are quiet, some are loud—but most mages have years of training in keeping their composure, so only a couple get worse than half-raised voices.

V. CUMBERLAND

With the mages from the front, the pressure on Riftwatch lets up somewhat. There's no longer a need for every Riftwatcher to be on-site at all hours of the day to prevent the Loyalist contingent from voting, so there's time to slip out into the city, whether for business—posting messages, buying supplies, running Riftwatch errands unrelated to mages and Circles—or just a break.

VI. THE RESOLUTION

In the end, not much happens. The proposal is voted down. It is not replaced by anything. But a date is set, three months in the future, to reconvene in a more orderly and less underhanded way to consider other options for mages' (and rifters') future. The Grand Enchanter also consents, in good spirits, to this future gathering deciding whether she stays in charge.

Riftwatch is invited. They have until then to do whatever maneuvering and advocacy they can.

It counts as a victory.


NPC NOTES

  • You can do threads with NPC'd mages, or you can thread around their presence: discuss strategy, complain about a conversation with an NPC that happened off screen, take a break from the speeches outside, etc.
  • Feel extremely free to make up NPC mages of your own! For natives this can include mages they already know or have history with. If you make up an NPC who you'd like kept in mind in the future, you can put them on the wiki page for this plot.
  • The Loyalist camp consists mainly of Loyalists, but also some Aequitarians and Lucrosians. They're a mix of mages who sat out the war, Loyalists who fought with Madame de Fer against the rebels, and mages who fought with the rebellion but have since come around to wanting some kind of system back.
  • The rebel mages who arrive on scene are mainly Libertarians, but also have some of every other fraternity—Aequitarians, Resolutionists, Isolationists, Lucrosians, and a few Loyalists along for the ride. They're all mages who fought with the rebellion and then joined the Inquisition.
  • Grand Enchanter Fiona is present! If you want your character to have a significant conversation with her, either to get info or try to convince her of anything, do an info request—since she's so important and influential on her own, deciding what she would say or do is a mod call.
  • You can invent friends/future contacts from either camp for your character to keep in touch with on their own. I don't have any info beyond the scope of this plot to hand out right now, either as a player or as a mod, but for the belated Part III in a few months I will try to gather folks whose characters have Done Work in the interim to distribute influence/information accordingly.
luaithre: (70)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-08-12 09:46 am (UTC)(link)
In the silence between them, Marcus finishes his cigarette, or is done with it near enough, looking at the embers smoldering at the end as he holds smoke in his lungs, eases it out through his nose. Drops it, uses the edge of his boot to smear it out. (Later, some exasperated housekeeper of the College will wonder what feral creature littered cigarette ends here and there on the fine floors.)

In time for her question, the qualifier that comes after. He looks to her, then, evaluating whatever there is to see in her expression. Empathy, as ever. Honesty.

"You're not prying," Marcus says. "And going back to Starkhaven—I felt we'd survived something. And that's all."

Relief, of a kind. Defeat, of another, when not all of them did, not wholly.

However, she's right—it is painful, and not all of that pain can be productive. There is more he would like to tell her if asked, but all at once, it's as though the place they are in feels like an intrusion, like it isn't where he ought to do the telling. A subtle shake of his head follows, reflective for a moment, of what it would be like to speak to all this in that room back there, let alone in a quiet hallway with a trusted listener.

"Derrica," he says, which is a delay, a moment to reorient himself and rifle around for the words he is looking for, in the order he wants them to be in.
tender: (Default)

foists a dialogue-less tag onto you

[personal profile] tender 2022-08-12 03:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Her name heads off whatever she might have said next. Derrica has grown familiar enough with Marcus to understand that he means to say something, that he is working his way towards it and she might give him time for that.

So she is quiet, face turned up to observe his face. Whatever shows of his thought process there, whatever point he is winding his way to.

And there is no hardship to it. It gives her a moment to sit with the sweeping anger she feels in her chest thinking of what he is describing. What he'd survived. What Matthias must have survived. (Matthias has never spoken so specifically of what he'd experienced. Derrica knows the shape of it, the mistreatment and neglect, but the rest—)

It turns Mobius' shame and Barrow's apologies into something so insignificant. What could their regrets ever do to erase decades of this treatment? It is not enough. It will never be enough. The consideration of that coalesces in her, calcifying into certainty, as her eyes move over his face. Patient, holding space for what comes next.
luaithre: (58)

holds it tenderly

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-08-13 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
He doesn't keep her in suspense for too long, only long enough to match articulation with conviction. Also, to cease the moving gears of recollection, and pull his focus free from it. Also, and perhaps most crucially, to keep a handle of the feeling behind it all.

"I know what I was asking of you," then, watching some space in the middle of them rather than directly at her. "To share, here, that thing that belonged to you only. I think you'd have seen the need for it anyway." He doesn't need to explain what they both already know, that they need a future that can be grasped, an alternative to the Circles that can work, that has worked, and the dreadful tragedy of its dying at the hands of the Chantry.

Now he looks to her, steady and serious in this pocket of quiet they've found out here. "I asked it because I remembered what it felt like to hear of it. Past the grief of it, to the beauty of it. The hope of it. Thank you."

It doesn't sound, so much, a thank you for speaking in the Conclave, but for something more personal, for that day in the snow.
tender: (Default)

[personal profile] tender 2022-08-13 08:00 am (UTC)(link)
Tears catch her off guard, pricking at her eyes as Marcus speaks. Her gaze never breaks from his face.

It is in her nature to say No, please don't. This isn't something done to receive praise or gratitude. But she knows that what Marcus is saying isn't out of obligation. It's not bestowed lightly, and Derrica can't turn any part of this sentiment aside carelessly.

"I had never been able to talk to anyone about it that way before that day."

Not here, not in the conclave. Standing with him, in the snow.

"I'm glad I spoke of it to you first."
luaithre: (125)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-08-14 11:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Catching sight of that shine in Derrica's eye compels Marcus first to redirect his attention somewhere again more middle, mostly out of self-defense for the immediate reflection in kind blurring the corners of his vision, but looks up again when she speaks. He listens, he nods, an element of stiffness in his his posture. Guardedness. And then he just kind of

scoffs at himself, quietly, as if it occurs to him then what a pointless exercise it is to keep such a stranglehold on his composure. That day meant something, and today means something.

His arm goes around her shoulders, ushering her in closer.
tender: (Default)

[personal profile] tender 2022-08-15 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
Maybe the intention was simply this: an arm about her shoulders, and no farther.

But this small gesture is enough to rattle loose some restraint Derrica had been turning over in her mind already.

Beneath the loop of his arm, Derrica turns in to him. This was meant as a comfort for her, perhaps, but in this moment she is thinking of all Marcus has lived through. The pieces he has shared with her and the parts she has witnessed herself. She turns her face in against his chest as she embraces him, arms cinching tight around his waist. Holding on.

What else is there to say?
luaithre: (101)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-08-15 07:25 am (UTC)(link)
It was not his intention, perhaps only because he wouldn't have presumed it on his own, but he is only still when she turns, wraps her arms around him. And then the arm around her shoulders tightens to hold her closely and securely, his other winding around, head ducked and she can feel his chin and cheek against the crown of her head.

Some restless aspect of his mood eases just for the moment, taking comfort as intended. A harder thing to accomplish than simply laying bare old wounds. A healer would know.
tender: (Default)

[personal profile] tender 2022-08-17 05:26 am (UTC)(link)
If this embrace eases any part of the entire affair here in Cumberland for him—

Yes, Derrica understands how hard it is to seek comfort. Accept it as given. And she is not unaware that Marcus occupies a particular sphere, even within their own community. Matthias' reverence and Byerly's scorn had both been instructive for Derrica, who had come south with such remove from the business of the rebellion.

Who beyond Petrana and Julius would think of Marcus any way beyond the reputation he had acquired?

When she draws back, it is not to go very far at first. It is only to look up at him, observe his expression.

Says quietly, "Thank you."

Let the words be weighted down with all manner of things. That day in the snow. The letter of apology, given for something that happened in a dream. His time offered to her freely in the training yard, so she might survive a fight with another mage. A string of kindnesses, that deserved acknowledgement.
luaithre: (124)

[personal profile] luaithre 2022-08-27 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
She draws back that small distance and Marcus releases the embrace, still resting his hands on her arms to hold steady. There is a familiar resolve and dignity to the way he holds himself, his expression, but that steel-trap tension that had locked in seems to have gone, anger bled out for at least the time being.

He shakes his head at her thanks, but he doesn't verbally refuse it. It's only fair.

"Let me walk you back," he asks, then, voice at a quiet gravelly tone as he navigates them somewhere less fraught, and weighted, though still holding her. Affection stamped plain. "And I'll introduce you to some friends of mine later."
tender: (Default)

a very delayed bow

[personal profile] tender 2022-09-06 04:48 am (UTC)(link)
If this conversation had accomplished nothing but easing the storm Marcus had been carrying with him, Derrica would have judged it a success.
I
As it is, she is nodding, pleased with both parts of the offer. She is aware of Marcus' reputation, how he is viewed. It matters that they return together. Derrica had been measured in her recitation, but it should be clear what her opinions as to the way forward should be.

If there are ever Circles again, they must be mage-made and mage-governed. Anything less would be unacceptable.

"I'd like that," is what she says aloud. "I'd be honored to know them."

And the promise of it will certainly make the next section of these talks more bearable. Surely that goes without saying.