Ah, the self-insert. Normally an author's first foray into the craft. So, considering all the posting I've already done, why am I going with a 'self-insert' now? BECAUSE I CAN! What I can't do is help that Dragon Age Inquisition has gotten my brain popping. So read if you'd like. Constructive criticism is appreciated. I'm going to run with this and see where it goes. Forward!
Oh, God's sake! Marcy didn't even have to move to know she did not want to get up. What time could it be? No alarm, so it wasn't 6. And what day? Was it the weekend? Please, let it be the weekend. Going to work after waking up like this would be a nightmare.
Marcy shifted in the direction of her phone, only to discover that 'down' was in the wrong direction. She was already sitting up. When had that happened? The movement, slight though it was, gave the woman a fuller grasp of her situation. Stiffness, weakness, lethargy. The air smelled of stone and mildew. Her knees ached terribly and her left arm, having fallen asleep, assaulted her with pins and needles as she tried to get the blood flow recirculating. And she was…restrained? Something heavy and solid was wrapped around her wrists. That wasn't right.
The woman opened her eyes and peered around, her faculties not quite present enough for her to panic. Oh…even her vision was slow on the uptake. Everything was blurry and robed in shadows, but at first glance there was what looked to be firelight dancing across the floor. That wasn't right. Marcy trained her eyes down at her restrained hands and focused very hard. A set of large, solid metal shackles swam into focus with a dirty stone floor set beyond them.
The pins and needles sensation on her left hand intensified, demanding her attention even before the situational shock landed. She twisted her hand around in the shackles and found a slice of green light flickering across the middle of her palm, like someone had tucked a glow-stick inside her hand.
Before she could think about standing, the pins and needles feeling became a biting pain. Marcy cried out as an electric shock erupted from the mark. The glow went off like a sparkler, casting the entire room in an eerie green flashing light. Energy coursed out from the mark, eating its way up her arm under the skin, burning and tearing and charring her like insatiable, crawling fire ants through her veins. She couldn't stop it. Couldn't keep herself quiet or keep the tears of pain from spilling down her cheeks as it—
—suddenly stopped. Marcy slumped forward, gasping for breath and shaking, the blistering pain now returned to the pins and needles from before. What was that? What had just happened? What was going on?!
A heavy door slammed open in front of her and Marcy looked up fearfully at two women standing there. The foremost was armored like a Renaissance faire actor: sword, breastplate, shield and everything. She had short black cropped hair and moved like a soldier or a cop, coming down the stairs like she could wipe out the whole room and everyone in it. The scars on her face and the look in her eyes spoke to how dangerous she was. Not just a soldier, but one who had seen things. Bad things. And those gun-metal eyes were turned on Marcy with an icy vengeance seated in them. The kneeling woman felt her stomach twist in fear even as she thought: this woman looked familiar.
As the hardened soldier approached, Marcy heard swords being sheathed around her by people she hadn't even noticed. Marcy tensed up, trembling as the armored woman circled her not unlike a predator about its meal. When the armored woman passed behind, Marcy glanced up at the second who'd come forward, looking sharply down at their prey. Marcy returned this one's gaze, seeing a softer face beneath the hood and chainmail, if no less intense a scrutiny, and thinking that she should know this woman, too.
Marcy jumped as the armored soldier snapped in her ear, "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." She came around into view, venom in her voice. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead…except for you."
They both glared down at her, but Marcy was nothing except confused. "Conclave? What…what conclave?" She gasped as the mark sparked and bit her. Not as intensely as the shock, but it hurt!
The activity drew her interrogators' attention as well. The armored woman reached down and grabbed her wrists harshly, putting the glowing mark in front of her eyes and demanding, "Explain this."
"I…I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?!" she almost shouted.
"I can't! I don't…" Marcy stared at her palm, panic rising about this thing inside her hand. "What is that?!"
The armored woman seized her by the collar and shook her violently. "You know exactly what that is! Now tell me—!"
The woman was pulled back and the second interrogator put herself between the two. "No, Cassandra. We need her."
There was some measuring of wills but Marcy wasn't paying attention. Her mind was focused on the thing in her hand. The pins and needles weren't alleviating at all. It was constant. An energy writhing, burning and itching in her hand. And even more unsettling, when she really looked at the mark…it wasn't even there! She felt it embedded in her palm, but looking at it was like looking at an optical illusion rather than an actual slice through her flesh. She looked up, pleading, "What is this?!"
The other woman, the more level-headed, perhaps the 'good cop', answered the question with another. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"
"I…" Marcy wracked her mind. What had happened? How had she gotten here? "I was at home. I had work in the morning…" Nothing but a blank and a bad nightmare between there and here. She looked up, almost afraid to accuse. "Did you bring me here? I haven't done anything to anyone!"
The good cop was not to be denied. "What do you remember?"
The second request garnered nothing more in the way of details. "I was home. I went to bed for the night and now…here." The mark sparked again, igniting a fresh wave of pain and confusion. "What did you do to me?!"
"You're saying you remember nothing? Nothing about the Conclave or the Divine?"
"What conclave?!"
The armored woman caught her fellow's arm and urged her toward the door. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana." They shared a look and then the armored one cast a wary glare at their shackled prisoner. "I will take her to the Rift."
Marcy barely noticed the other woman leave. Her head was scrambling. Where was she? It felt like she should know, but she didn't. It felt like she should know these people, but she didn't. And this glowing mark on her hand… This couldn't be real. It couldn't be.
She came back to herself when the armored woman unlocked her shackles, their heavy weight falling away but doing nothing for the crawling thing in her palm. The shackles were quickly replaced by rope, binding her wrists tightly together. Marcy resisted when the woman attempted to pull her to her feet. "Where are you taking me?"
The armored woman's face was still hard but she seemed less violently inclined. "It…will be easier to show you." She was strong, able to drag Marcy to her feet with ease and push her toward the door. There was no choice in this matter. No fighting or arguing or running. This woman was able and willing to force the issue, so Marcy followed.
Well down the hall, she finally got courage enough to ask again, "Did you bring me here? Why?"
She couldn't read the look on the armored woman's face as she regarded her sternly. It was an eon before she answered. "You were brought here from the Temple. You stepped out of the Fade and fell unconscious. The only survivor."
"Survivor of what?"
Another hard and measuring glare. "You will see. Outside."
They passed through the remainder of the building without another word, the mark still gnawing at the center of her palm. This place was old, made of stone and wood. Old kingdom style with nothing but actual torches to light the walls. Was this some kind of ancient prison? Why would anyone bring her here?
The doors outside were opened and Marcy caught a cold burst and a glaring bright light that made her shrink. The armored woman pushed her forward anyway, out into the snow. Snow? Where was—?
She didn't even get the chance to finish the question before she saw what her captor had eluded to. It couldn't be anything else. High in the sky, an enormous vortex puncturing the clouds, glaring with the same eerie green light as the mark on her palm. Clouds of billowing green energy swirling down toward some point over a ridge. Great stones floated near the top and the vortex spat fiery asteroids at random toward the ground.
Marcy's mind grasped at reality and found no purchase. This was familiar. But…it couldn't be. She shook her head slowly, trying to step back and getting nowhere with the immovable woman behind her. "…This isn't right…This can't be right…"
The armored woman pushed her forward, Marcy's feet meeting snow and cold packed ground. "We call it the Breach. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It is not the only such rift. Just the largest. And all were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."
Marcy couldn't take her eyes off the glaring vortex, even as the armored woman pushed her down a path, not even noticing the buildings she was passing. Her mind was spinning. "…What…What conclave?" was all she could get out.
Something struck her in the face and left the smell of rotted vegetables on her cheek. Her eyes snapped away from the vortex to meet a host of angry people who lined the path they were taking. All of them were glaring with murder in their eyes, shouting and cursing at her. The armored woman grabbed Marcy's arm more firmly and propelled her forward, partially shielding her from further assault.
"They act out of anger. You alone survived the explosion at the Conclave. The explosion that killed our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, and everything she sought to do at the Temple. You bear a mark on your hand that is connected to the Breach. They mourn and lash out, like the sky. Your guilt is already decided in their hearts."
"But I didn't do anything."
"You say you cannot remember. How then can you know for certain?"
They got beyond the crowd and through wooden gates right out of medieval storybook. Marcy's eyes found the vortex again quickly enough. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be possible. Just…just a dream, right? A very bad, very vivid dream—
There was a pulse from the vortex and the mark on her hand answered. Marcy screamed as the pain ripped through her, energy as alive and fiery as electricity eating its way up her arm, clawing further than before. It brought her to her knees, Marcy clenching her hand with no relief. She couldn't hear, she couldn't see. It was just an endless, bottomless—
It stopped as abruptly as before and she was left whimpering, kneeling in the center of the road. "Not happening—Can't be happening—This can't be right."
The armored woman was crouched in front of her, watching Marcy's reaction, her eyes still harsh. "This is happening. The Breach continues to grow. Each time it expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you. But it may be the key to stopping this. To stopping the Breach from swallowing the world."
Marcy breathed deeply, containing the hysteria that threatened to break loose. "Stopping…how?"
The woman dropped her eyes to the glowing mark clenched in her prisoner's fist. "We shall discover that shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours."
Marcy looked down, opening her hand to reveal the mark sitting like a living thing within her flesh. The mark…the Breach. This couldn't be real. But it felt real. This thing under her skin felt real. Writhing and gnawing at her. The wind chilled her skin and her lungs with each breath. Her body ached and all her pains remained vivid. Marcy looked up at the vortex in the sky, the sound of it piercing her ears. It looked—felt—seemed real. But it couldn't be…could it?
The armored woman got tired of waiting and pulled Marcy to her feet again to press her forward. This time, as she rose, Marcy took a good look at the symbol emblazoned on the front of the woman's armor, a fiery eye, and then at the woman's face. It felt real. Too real to deny. Although, really considering that…it held some very frightening conclusions.
Marcy breathed. "…Okay…okay. So…where are we going?"
Again, the armored woman was impossible to read. But the slight widening of her eyes might have been hopefulness or surprise. Hopefully it was a good reaction, though one couldn't tell from her tone. "The Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is not far." She turned to lead the way, then halted. Marcy's blood froze as her captor reached into her armor, drew a knife and turned on her. Marcy shuffled back, but before she got more than a couple steps, the woman strode forward, seized her hands and sliced through the ropes that bound her. Marcy couldn't begin to describe her relief and massaged away the remnants of the binding. It did nothing for the pins and needles of the mark, though.
The woman's next instruction was curt, but came with an explanation. "Come. The longer we wait, the bigger the Breach grows, the more rifts open and the more demons we face. We need to get you to the Temple."
Marcy nodded and followed after her without complaint, massaging her hand without gaining any relief. "Uh…ma'am?" That steely look stayed her for a second when it was turned on her. "…Uh…Who are you? That is, I mean, what do I call you?" She knew the answer. Or should, if this was what she thought it was. But at the same time, hearing it was something else.
"You may call me Cassandra. Now, we must go."
But her stomach remained clenched…because if this was real, Marcy actually knew what she was walking into. And that there was no real choice in the matter.
XXX
It was a hurried walk. Marcy could tell easily enough that she was holding up Cassandra. Cassandra Pentaghast the Seeker. Oh, God, how had this happened? Was it the Breach? The tear in the sky? Had it brought her here, somehow? She couldn't tell how considering her home had no magic to speak of and this place wasn't supposed to be real. That didn't mean it hadn't, but still.
In the end, she decided to focus on what was immediately ahead of them, instead of letting the hysteria get a foothold. It wasn't as difficult as she might have thought. They were hardly past the first bridge before Marcy was winded. Not to mention the added distraction of flinching from every asteroid that came shooting this way and the constant pricking in her palm was enough to keep her completely occupied. Occupied enough that she forgot about the second bridge.
They were most of the way across when an asteroid struck its center. The concussion that followed shook apart the stones beneath their feet and both Marcy and her keeper fell with the bridge's collapse. Marcy only knew to curl and roll, tumbling down amidst the falling stone and protect her head from being struck. God only knew how, but both she and Cassandra were unharmed when the collapse was done.
Marcy uncurled just in time to see another asteroid screaming toward them, smashing through a ridge and slamming into the ground on their level. The asteroid had no mass, but left a tar-like splotch on the ground where it struck…which moved. There was a flare of green light upward and a form rose from the earth: a horrific wraith-like thing with long arms and grasping fingers that howled its arrival on this plane.
Cassandra was already on her feet with weapon drawn. "Stay behind me," she ordered before charging the demon with a yell. Just like in-game, she didn't notice the second splotch gathering on the ground in front of Marcy herself. Marcy searched around and dove behind a large crate that had fallen from the bridge with them, squirming out of sight just before the flash of green light that denoted a rising demon.
Marcy wedged herself down against the crate, praying she hadn't been seen. Several seconds passed with no sound of approach. Marcy gathered her courage and peeked around her shield. No, she hadn't been seen. But now Cassandra faced two demons instead of one.
It shouldn't have worried her. Cassandra was a strong fighter, wasn't she? A Seeker. They didn't make just anyone a Seeker. But…she was the only one out here looking out for Marcy. If she died…
The younger woman scrambled up and, in a fit of what must have been madness, seized a stone from the ground and hurled it at the combat. By pure luck it struck one of the demons who immediately turned on the offender. Marcy's legs almost gave out as the monster set its sunken, dead eyes on her and howled with rage. Then it came at her, slithering across the ground like something out of a nightmare.
Marcy threw another rock which went pathetically wide before her feet slid on the iced stone and her legs went sailing out from under her. With the demon closing in, she scrambled around, reaching out to grab anything she could use to defend herself. A long piece of wood came to her hand and she lashed out with it, batting away the demon's first strike, only just avoiding its sharp, tearing claws. Marcy put her feet under her and swung again, missing the thing entirely. The demon threw out its arm and she took a blow to the chest that threw her several feet back, driving the wind from her lungs when she landed. The demon streaked for her, claws outstretched to spear her through. This was it!
The creature screamed as a blade burst through its chest and it wailed. Cassandra withdrew her weapon and sliced it across the back. The demon collapsed, grasping hands dragging across the ground as it melted into nothing but a heap of sludge and rags which dissolved in its own time.
Marcy collapsed onto the ground, gasping and praying that this rush of adrenaline would not give way to a panic attack. Cassandra reached down and hauled her up. "Are you hurt?" Even if she sounded clinical, Marcy was willing to take even necessity-driven concern.
She shook her head. "Couple bruises. That's all. Are you okay?"
The Seeker sheathed her blade. "I am fine." But she looked unhappy. Or at least, more unhappy. As she gazed up toward the vortex, Marcy could guess what was going through her mind.
"We're going to see more of those between here and there, aren't we?" It was a stupid question. Of course they were.
Cassandra looked back at her prisoner and down at what was still clutched in her hand. "Can you use that?"
Marcy looked down and realized the length of wood she'd grabbed was a bow. Marcy dropped it like a scalding iron, then looked contritely up at the Seeker. "No. I…I don't know how to fight. At all."
The Seeker sneered. Marcy prayed it wasn't at her so much as at the situation as a whole. The woman strode over and kicked open the crate that Marcy had taken refuge behind before. After a second taken to survey the contents, she reached in, grabbed a short sword and tossed it at her charge. Marcy caught it awkwardly against her chest with both arms. "I cannot protect you. And it will be foolish to bring you along defenseless."
"But I don't know how to use it!"
"You must have something. Learn quickly. Come."
That was the end of it. Marcy managed to buckle the belt around her waist as she hurried after the Seeker, further into the combat zone.
XXX
The way turned steep. There were more demons dotting the path, which Cassandra engaged and dispatched without Marcy ever having to draw the blade she'd been given. In fact, if she could avoid pulling it out at all, she would. The thing was a nuisance, banging against her leg with every step as they jogged along. How did Cassandra do it? The blade on her hip moved like it was a part of her. She made it look so easy to cart around a giant, sharpened length of steel.
And the Seeker was still unhappy about their speed. Marcy tried to keep up, truly. But she just didn't have the stamina for it. And more than once she slipped on some ice and hit the ground, every incident earning a look from the Seeker.
But it truly wasn't far. They were halfway up a long set of stairs when the sounds of fighting could be heard over that of the Breach. Cassandra grabbed Marcy's arm and dragged her up the remaining stairs, the sounds of conflict growing louder as they ascended. It was a small miracle that they reached the top without Marcy losing her footing again. Sure enough, on this next level, there was a battle taking place. More of those wraith-like demons were sliding across the ground, raking at a collection of people who were trying desperately to fend them off.
Cassandra pulled Marcy with her and then pushed her behind a half collapsed wall. "Stay here!" Then she charged into the fray with blade drawn.
Marcy stayed where she'd been thrown, the hilt of her sword jammed against her abdomen, looking over the wall at the fight taking place. A thin, bald man with pointed ears wielded a staff over on the left, flashing icy spells from his weapon's end at the demons who engaged a few soldiers that Cassandra now fought beside. Off on the right, a very short, very stocky man with orangish hair was delivering bolts from a crossbow. Together, and especially with the addition of Cassandra, they were slowly thinning the demons that faced them.
It was the thing hovering over their heads that really drew Marcy's attention. It was a jagged crystalline shape hovering in mid-air, colored black and the same eerie green as the mark on her hand and the vortex in the sky. It crackled with a strange energy that she felt warble in the pit of her stomach and scream at the edge of her hearing. The crystalline points jerked ever inward, and yet never did the crystal diminish in size. New points spawned outward every time one crept into its center, like an inversely growing mechanism. And if that weren't enough, there were streams of energy spiraling around it like dancer's ribbons. A rift. It might have been beautiful if it weren't spawning demons.
Marcy looked down at the mark on her hand. This was what it was for. She knew that. This was the purpose of the mark: to close rifts. But how? It was hard to tell exactly how it worked just by watching someone do it on a screen. And now she had to do it herself. Marcy looked at the fighting, then over their heads at the rift, again. The first time, in-game Solas had just sort of…shoved the marked hand up against it. Was that all she needed? One thing was for certain: she needed to be closer to do anything. And another: if she did nothing, demons would continue to spawn from the rift and it was more and more likely someone would be killed. That fact sealed her decision.
Watching the fighting carefully, Marcy chanced a move closer, hurrying to the next broken wall when she thought none of the demons might pick her for a target. The dwarf she knew to be Varric was immediately beyond her new hiding place. He noticed her approach. They needed to do little more than meet each other's eyes to know they stood on the same side of this fight. Then Marcy focused back on the battle.
She had to get closer. In-game, rifts didn't close unless there were no longer any demons around. Would it be the same here? Now? There was something else that could be done when there were demons present. What was it? Some kind of…disruption. She couldn't remember.
Marcy put that from her mind. Just figure out how to get it closed. That's the first priority.
The fighting kept going. One by one the demons fell. They had not all been felled when Marcy saw her chance. The demons closest to the rift were killed and the others were being pushed up against the wall to the side of the courtyard. But there was no one between her and the rift itself.
Before she could lose her nerve, Marcy leapt out from behind the wall and dashed the distance to the rift, throwing up her marked hand and reaching for the crystal. She didn't even have to touch it. When one of the floating ribbons passed over her palm and a connection was made! It was magnetic, the ribbon fixing to her palm at first contact. And then more. Any ribbons floating near were inexplicably drawn to the mark on her hand. Even more so once there were others attached.
In fact, that seemed to be all that was needed. The mark reflected the flow of energy in the ribbons. And the more ribbons of energy found her palm, the stronger the flow from her into the rift, and the more the rest were attracted. It was like…gathering streambeds and getting the water to flow all in one direction. And flow strongly enough that it pulled the puckered edges of the rift inwards, closer and closer until—
Crack!
The edges met at the center, the flow of energy was cut off as the Veil folded in on itself and the rift sealed up like it had never even been there.
Marcy exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding—then spun around looking for remaining demons, unconnected to the rift, that might be stealing near to kill her. But they were all gone, leaving her with the people who'd been fighting: the stoic Seeker, an unctuous dwarf and an intrigued elf, in particular. The other soldiers, keeping back.
Cassandra strode forward with most purpose. "You closed it. You sealed the rift."
"I…did." She had to sound as shocked as the Seeker herself. Although she couldn't start to explain how she'd done it, exactly. The rush of energy from closing the rift had briefly eased the discomfort of her mark, but it was returning, pricking and needling at the inside of her hand like before. She reached over and rubbed her thumb along the mark, trying unsuccessfully to alleviate the feeling again.
"A most impressive display." Marcy looked up and saw elf smiling pleasantly at her. "I had theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake. And it seems I was correct. Well done."
Cassandra put forward, "If it can close the rifts, it could also be used to close the Breach."
"Possibly," was the elf's response. He turned his attention back to the marked woman. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."
Marcy dropped her eyes. Their salvation? They had no idea. Yes, she had the mark on her. But that didn't mean she could do what was needed. What would be needed. She looked back up at the Breach, seeing all the things that were going to be expected of her. And feeling doubtful that she could walk the path to its end.
"Good to know," the dwarf declared behind them. "And here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." When she turned back to him, he and Marcy shared much the same look they had back at the wall, if more amiable. "Varric Tethras," he introduced himself. "Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag-a-long." At the last, he winked at the Seeker, who immediately screwed up her face like she'd smelled something foul.
"A pleasure to meet you, Varric," Marcy replied, offering him a hand.
He took it. But instead of a handshake, he turned it slightly and kissed the back, making Marcy blink and blush with surprise. "And I am truly charmed by a lady willing to run right up to a glowing hole spitting demons."
Cassandra made an indignant sound while Marcy couldn't help but be a little charmed herself, even though she knew him for a rogue already. "Well, I…It seemed to know what it's doing already. I just sort of…held on." Had he always shown so much of his chest? And why did she have to take notice of it now, of all times?
The Seeker saved her from further embarrassment. "The sooner we reach the Breach, the sooner we will know for certain." She turned on the dwarf. "You will return to Haven. The Divine no longer needs to hear your story. You are…free to go."
He chuckled a husky baritone sound. "Oh, you can't think I'm going to let you out of my sight now, can you?"
Cassandra balked at the suggestion. "No, absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, but—"
"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." And with that last, he gave the Seeker the most roguishly charismatic smile Marcy could ever imagine. Marcy tucked a giggle inside her hand. They were in a dire circumstance, after all. Cassandra was able to resist the rogue's attempt completely—shooting Marcy an angry glance for her amusement—but couldn't argue with his other points, finally issuing a disgusted sound of surrender and turning her back on him.
From her right, the elf addressed Marcy, giving his name, although she already knew it. "I am Solas, if there are to be introductions." Even though he was dressed as a wanderer from the wild, the elf came across as gentile and cultured in his speech and poise. Small wonder, considering how long she knew he must have lived. Still, Marcy got the sense that offering her hand to him might be impeding on his personal space. But he did add, with a diagnostic eye, "I am pleased to see you still live."
Varric translated, "He means 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'."
She looked to Solas, feeling real gratitude. "Thank you." The mark continued to burn and she rubbed at it again, trying to keep her eyes down rather than set them on him again while she remembered what she knew of him. "So you…you know about the mark? What it is? How to…control it?"
Solas got this secretive aspect to his smile. "I have learned much in my travels of the Fade. More than one might find in the Circle. As for how? It would be quite an involved explanation."
"Solas is an apostate. Well-versed in such matters," Cassandra commented, not particularly positively, eager to get these introductions finished.
"Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra," was Solas's reply.
Marcy ran a finger along the mark again, feeling it be there and not there at the same time. The mark…his mark. Would he know if it brought her here? How? Could he help send her home? Did she dare ask? "So you…you know how this happened? The Breach and…everything?" she asked hopefully.
"I know that the same magic which created the Breach also placed that mark upon your hand. I also know that this magic is unlike anything I have seen. And you, being no mage, could not have done this yourself. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power." The whole of that was directed, not just to her, but to the others as well. And none of it an answer she'd been hoping for.
"How…how long do I have? If I can't close the Breach…"
"It is difficult to say," Solas replied. "But considering the ease with which you closed this rift, I am confident in your abilities."
Marcy didn't feel so reassured. Especially with the sword bumping against her hip. She lifted her eyes to his, still resting upon her: pale, observant…ancient. She would need to be careful what she said, wouldn't she.
Cassandra had had enough. "We need to get to the forward camp quickly."
Varric interrupted even as the Seeker began to stride off. "Now, now, I think we've missed something. If we're going full circle with the introductions, that is." And he looked pointedly at Marcy.
"Oh! Sorry. I'm Marcy. DeNiche. I'm…just me." It felt like a very thin introduction what with the three others here. Seeker; apostate; famous storyteller. And she was…very much in the wrong place.
Varric gifted her with a genuine smile, Solas with an acknowledging nod and Cassandra with nothing more than a curt look before striding off toward the Breach, that being a clear enough implication that they be on their way.
"Well," Varric started, shrugging in the direction the resolute Seeker and the solemn elf were already walking. "Bianca's excited."
Marcy tried to share in the breath of humor, but one look back up at the hole in the sky and it fell away. Oh, dear. This could only get worse.
XXX
They reached the forward camp with only a few more altercations, although thankfully not with rifts. Just demons fallen from the sky or wandering the paths. Cassandra led the charge, Solas and Varric provided cover and Marcy stayed behind both of them. And she was still the one holding up their progress.
The forward camp was little more than a huddling of people and a few hastily erected tents for the wounded. And there were many wounded. Cassandra led their group purposefully past the camp and straight toward the bridge beyond it. Varric and Solas followed unquestioning. Marcy meant to. But at first sight of a particular section of the camp, she stopped on a dime and lost track of everything.
A line of cloth covered bodies were laid out across the ground. Some covered, none hidden. Dozens of them. Row upon row of lost lives. A person in what she knew to be Chantry garb knelt among them, giving last rites to the fallen, even in the midst of the crisis. Marcy saw it and felt the whole world stop. Death happened. She knew that. But seeing it—especially like this… It was just too heartbreaking. Her legs weakened and went numb. She felt ill, and a terrible pressure formed in her chest.
A firm but gentle shake of her shoulder finally pulled Marcy out of her trance. She looked around, confused, to find Varric next to her, sympathetic and concerned. "You okay?"
Her throat caught and her face got very hot as she tried to hold in the wave of sorrow that was rising. "No. No, I'm not." She looked again at the rows of dead. "All those people…"
The dwarf put a hand on her back and took her arm gently. "Come on. Let's get this over with." Marcy let him draw her away to where Solas and Cassandra were waiting up ahead near the gate, but the image of those bodies stayed at the front of her mind. Marcy felt a chilly trail chart down her face and reached up to find her cheeks wet. She hadn't even realized she'd been crying.
Halfway across the bridge, another man in Chantry garb was leaning over a table with the second woman from Marcy's interrogation standing close by. Leliana. It was her. Another reminder that this was really happening. That she was really here. That people were really dying—
It was easy to see that the Chantry man was embittered toward the Seeker when he first set eyes on her and her party coming toward them. And there was pure malice when he caught sight of Marcy.
Leliana looked on them with more gentility. "Good. You made it." She then attempted a civilized greeting. "Chancellor Roderick, this is—"
He interrupted her without regard. "I know who she is." He drew himself up and declared, "As Chancellor of the Chantry, I order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution for the murder of Divine Justinia!"
Marcy stiffened fearfully, back-stepping a few inches, afraid of who and how many would set upon her by his orders. Cassandra, on the other hand, advanced on the Chancellor with a flared anger, disregarding the man's intent on Marcy's life entirely. "You order me? You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat."
"And you are a thug," the bitter man retorted. "But a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry."
"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know," Leliana pointed out, effectively putting the whole of those present in opposition to the Chancellor.
"Justinia is dead! We must elect a new Divine and obey her orders on the matter. But I will see that one imprisoned until that time," and he stabbed an accusatory finger at Marcy who was still frightened that this man had enough clout to follow through on his word.
Solas interrupted, "The Breach will not wait for your election."
As if in answer, the hole in the sky concussed with energy and Marcy gasped as her mark did the same. She breathed through the pain of it. Her knees trembled but she stayed upright. An improvement, perhaps. It was a relief when the consuming shocks finally subsided. Damn it! She could learn to accept the pins and needles if the other would just stop happening.
Cassandra turned back on the Chancellor following the mark's display. "We must get to the Temple."
"Our position here is hopeless. We must call a retreat. You won't survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers. We must abandon this place now, before more lives are lost."
Cassandra pointed back at her marked woman. "She can close the rifts. I have seen it. We must get her to the Breach and at least attempt to seal it."
The Chancellor glared at their prisoner. "So she is involved with all of this."
The Seeker disregarded him. "This is not your decision to make. We are taking her to the Temple."
"Hold a moment, Cassandra," Leliana insisted. "A frontal assault on the Temple may be most direct. But if you mean to keep her alive to reach the Breach, it would be better to use such an attack as a distraction while we take a safer route."
"The mountain pass?" Cassandra replied incredulously. "We lost contact with an entire squad up there. It is too great a risk."
"And meeting the Breach's demons head-on is not?"
The two began arguing, the Chancellor interjecting with demand after demand for abandonment. Both Varric and Solas were unimpressed by the progression. The dwarf crossed his arms and sighed, "Don't you just love a power vacuum? There's a hole in the sky, and we can still find time to bitch about stuff like this."
Marcy looked up toward the mountain pass that Leliana had gestured at. This was the first choice in-game, wasn't it? Except that it looked like they weren't going to ask her at all. Reality vs scripting, it seemed. So, maybe she just had to involve herself. She was a part of this now, wasn't she?
Stepping around Varric, she cautiously approached the arguing trio. "Excuse me." Leliana did notice her, but Cassandra was knee deep in a yelling match with the Chancellor. Marcy reached out somewhat tentatively and tapped on her shoulder guard, succeeding in getting the woman to round on her, if fiercely. Marcy was at least beginning to get used to that hard glare and didn't hesitate quite as long as she had before.
Now or never. "I can't fight," she stated. "Putting me in the middle of a battlefield sounds like a really bad idea."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "You think we should go through the mountain pass." Her disapproval was clear.
Marcy kept her shoulders straight and did her utmost to keep a steady gaze without flinching. "If the point is to get me," she lifted the marked hand, "and this, up there in one piece? Then yes." And then there was the other reason. "And your squad is still up there." Oh, no— "Right? We might be able to find them on the way."
She'd almost slipped. Now was not the time to tell what she knew. They already considered her a suspect for the Conclave's destruction and for the Breach. If she tried to tell them who was actually behind it, they'd think her involved for sure. Not to mention the added complication of how she knew. No, now wasn't the time to reveal how aware she was of things. Just follow the steps she knew and, for now, pray it all worked out.
Cassandra glared back an expression that Marcy prayed was just her norm. "…Very well."
Marcy exhaled with relief while the Chancellor had a fit. "Seeker! You can't actually—"
Once again, he was ignored. "Leliana. Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone." Neither of the Hands spared the man another glance or consideration as movement was made to enact their intentions. Solas and Varric fell into step with Marcy behind the Seeker when she strode off in the decided direction. Marcy noted a sense of approval from both of the men.
But even defeated, the Chancellor was determined to have the last word. "On your head be the consequences, Seeker."
There. Can't get around being close to the game scripting/progression through this initial sequence. Leave a review and let me know how I'm doing.