@theoncefaded , as discussedÂ
At first, there was nothing. And thenâŚ
And then she woke up screaming.
If Varric wrote a book about how Clarice Rivers became Inquisitor, that was how it would begin. It would begin with a Tranquil attending the Conclave on loan from the former Kirkwall Circle, to act as a silent objective observer and record what was happening for historical records, and to serve as a silent reminder of what would happen if peace was not reached. She did not remember what happened after that. There was an explosion, she was in the Fade, she ran for her life, and she was afraid.
That didnât sink in until she woke up, chained in a basement in. Haven, and all the feelings that the Fade had somehow kept back sank back in. Everything sunk in - all the loss, fear, pain, everything the Templars had done to her, every small act of kindness, every moment when she should have felt sick and run awayâŚit all sunk in at once, and when the Left and Right Hands of the Divine burst in at the noise, all they could see was the bald Tranquil, clutching her head and sobbing while she ran out of air to scream with.
Then they wanted her to help. It was only by having spent the last decade obeying orders that Clarice got to her feet and walked out, following the trails up the mountain to the forward camp. She could barely breathe for all the memories swamping over her, and when she recoiled from soldiers in heavy armour, the Seeker understood. Then they needed her to fight, and Clarice had not felt magic for years. She had hid behind crates, dodging a demon that scared her, and when it got too close, it was instinct, buried deep in her bones, that compelled her to draw on the Fade and slam the demon into the ice with Force Magic.
So here she was, stumbling after the Seeker, wrapped in plain robes that were too thin for comfort, her eyes still red with tears that she hadnât had enough time to shed, her throat still raw from screaming, and her hands crackling with magic she could neither understand or control.
It was, as all things went, one of the most horrifying days of her life, so perhaps the two men fighting in front of her, an elf and a familiar dwarf, would understand if she was not the most presentable of saviours.
It was his worst nightmare. After they slew the demons and she closed the rift, he could hardly conceive of how things turned out the way that they did. Of all the outcomes possible, a tranquil held his only solution in her palm.
When he met her he immediately saw the brand on her forehead and if he was a less composed man he would have collapsed at the mere sight of it. How â how did it happen that way. Of all the people, the one that stumbled upon his mistake was already plagued by this world at itâs worst.
More questions arose once they reached Haven. How could she handle such power so quickly? How could she control it without more crippling mental devastation? Would she even live long enough to heal their world?
It would be a long road, but he was used to unexpected outcomes.
Solas didnât know if it was a blessing or a curse, to have magic flung upon a tranquil so quickly. He and the Seeker were both worried about what impact it might have on a tranquil. Emotions would be brought back in full force and that was with the power of ancient magic no less. She was already trapped before, and to be forced to the fray so quickly, her mind would endure nothing short of total devastation.
Solas sat beside her bedside, tending to the mark and waiting for her to rise again. He wished in that moment that he had someone to answer his wishes, but he knew that only reality would give him an answer.
She was sound asleep in the room. Servants would come and go to bring her water and food in case she woke up. He remained on the uncomfortable wicker chair, occasionally shifting when he did not zone out, trying to fight against exhaustion. He tried to find her in dreams, but even there she was unreachable. So he attempted to stay awake.
Was it beyond all hope to think a tranquil could help with such a disaster? Was her continuous restfulness from exhaustion or was it doomed?
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