dreadinquisitor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thearena2015-05-26 01:25 pm
dreadinquisitor) wrote in thearena2015-05-26 01:25 pm
Mountains are crumbling like statues of clay.
Who| The Thedosians & Friends
What| Reuniting and Planning
Where| In the area of the Cornucopia
When| Late evening/night, the first night
Warnings/Notes| Open to all Thedosians and allies who are interested in reuniting post-Cornucopia and plotting out next moves together. This will function like the War Room posts in the Capitol: tag Maxwell, enter into the "planning" catch-all starter, or talk amongst yourselves! If you'd rather your character remain separate, feel free to say they missed this!
Maxwell convinced Shepard to wait until the sun began to sink before he made his move. It had been hours since they'd tucked themselves into the little, bowed house at the edge of the village. Longer still since the troll-child, Karkat, had passed.
The sounds of the blood-bath at the makeshift Cornucopia had faded and died, and an eery hush had fallen, broken only rarely by speech. Far more often it was the house, creaking and groaning around them, squeaking beneath them as they moved about, spending the last of their adrenaline and rage and worry in pacing and checking the ramshackle rooms for anything that might be of use.
There wasn't much. A dirty, chipped cup. A few rusted utensils. A straw-hewn bed, torn full of holes by rodents and an old blanket, still wet green with mold in the folds of the fabric. But without knowing how the Cornucopia went for the others, it was difficult to pass up anything.
Piling it together, they'd waited. Then, finally, Maxwell moved.
As the sky had began to shift from ashen grey, to steel, and then slowly to coal, he clambered onto the sill of one of the open windows and hauled himself as carefully as he could up onto the roof. The wood complained and sank threatening beneath his boots, but it held.
He'd wrapped the silly little cap Jolie had given him around the Anchor to try and disguise it, but he unwrapped it then. The others from the Inquisition would know it for what it was, he was certain, and hopefully the rest would have heard enough about it or were with someone who had.
Holding up his arm, he opened his hand and the ghostly green light spilled free.
What| Reuniting and Planning
Where| In the area of the Cornucopia
When| Late evening/night, the first night
Warnings/Notes| Open to all Thedosians and allies who are interested in reuniting post-Cornucopia and plotting out next moves together. This will function like the War Room posts in the Capitol: tag Maxwell, enter into the "planning" catch-all starter, or talk amongst yourselves! If you'd rather your character remain separate, feel free to say they missed this!
Maxwell convinced Shepard to wait until the sun began to sink before he made his move. It had been hours since they'd tucked themselves into the little, bowed house at the edge of the village. Longer still since the troll-child, Karkat, had passed.
The sounds of the blood-bath at the makeshift Cornucopia had faded and died, and an eery hush had fallen, broken only rarely by speech. Far more often it was the house, creaking and groaning around them, squeaking beneath them as they moved about, spending the last of their adrenaline and rage and worry in pacing and checking the ramshackle rooms for anything that might be of use.
There wasn't much. A dirty, chipped cup. A few rusted utensils. A straw-hewn bed, torn full of holes by rodents and an old blanket, still wet green with mold in the folds of the fabric. But without knowing how the Cornucopia went for the others, it was difficult to pass up anything.
Piling it together, they'd waited. Then, finally, Maxwell moved.
As the sky had began to shift from ashen grey, to steel, and then slowly to coal, he clambered onto the sill of one of the open windows and hauled himself as carefully as he could up onto the roof. The wood complained and sank threatening beneath his boots, but it held.
He'd wrapped the silly little cap Jolie had given him around the Anchor to try and disguise it, but he unwrapped it then. The others from the Inquisition would know it for what it was, he was certain, and hopefully the rest would have heard enough about it or were with someone who had.
Holding up his arm, he opened his hand and the ghostly green light spilled free.
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But didn't mean it argumentatively, Tabris was the Warden-Commander and knew she would hardly make such a decision lightly. He just... wanted to understand.
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Every since arriving the only plan that had ever been discussed, at least by the group as a whole, was to find one another and to stay and work together. But now that she presented it, knowing his own current predicament, he began to wonder....
"That does make sense, and when you put it that way--" he glanced away, at something (someone) behind Tabris, and then up at the burning marker, still floating bright above his own head, "--maybe I should give it some thought."
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"Maxwell," She started, voice calm, but sure. "Adella has one of those, too. And so does Anders. And both groups aren't abandoning either of them. You are welcome to stay with me and mine, or stay with the others from the Inquisition. But what you aren't welcome to do is wander off on your own like a damn fool."
She tightened her grip on his hand. "So if you try it, I'll hunt you down and pull you back here by your ear, you hear?"
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"The things you said, Tabris. About the danger, about the discomfort... they apply to me as well. If you're going to leave to try and make it easier, the very least I can do is consider the same."
He looked at her, expression steady. Tone decided.
He wasn't the Inquisitor anymore, but he was still a leader.
"'What we must,' that's what the heroes do, remember?"
They'd promised, hadn't they?
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"We already have walking targets, Maxwell, you're not going to unduly put anyway in any awkward situations."
She puffed her chest out, like she wasn't a head shorter than Maxwell, and stared at him firmly, hand still firmly in hers. "And furthermore, I won't allow it! I'll wrestle you to the floor right now, watch if I don't." She had already decided, too. "You can stay with us, if you want, but you're not going alone!"
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His hand lowered again and his expression softened.
"And I do appreciate the concern, though. Threats and all."
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The elf's voice pitched up slightly, as she got more worked up by the idea of Maxwell just ditching everyone.
"No--Please, come on. If I stay with the rest of the group, would you stay?" It was a dangerous gamble, because that would mean having to deal with Anders and Cullen glaring daggers at each other, but if it kept Max alive, she'd be willing to do it.
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He was one person. Likely to die anyway. If he could spare the others, if he could.... His eyes closed and he shook his head, pushing out a long breath.
"Go. I promise I'll keep put if it means that much to you."
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Also, you'd have to probably kill her to separate her from Alistair.
"Thank you, Maxwell. You're the best, you know that?"
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It always good to know someone cared. Good to have a reminder that he wasn't what they wanted, he still belonged.
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he hugged back.
"But it goes by ways, Tabris. You be careful or I'll have Dorian bring you back just so I can tell how disappointed I am."
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She turned back to him, and put her hands on her waist. "Alright, we'll both try not to die like assholes. Sounds fair enough to me."
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"He's a bit of a fan, yes," he said. "But at least you can say for certain he doesn't sleep with them."
Jokes at the expense of his own love life, that was a good step right?
That'd make everyone think he was alright.
Turning back, he offered what he hoped was an easy, comforting smile.
"Be safe, Tabris."
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She smiles back at him, reaching out to pat his arm. "You, too, Maxwell. I mean it. I know...there's a good chance we're gonna kick the bucket, but at least we can ride out in a blaze of kickass glory, right?" She didn't plan on winning--Didn't want to win. But she did want to have the arenas not be awful, and that meant sponsors. And she had her ego to consider. She wasn't going to roll over and give up, not ever.
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"That is, apparently, what we're here for. We might as well make the most of it."