Chapter Text
The feeling of falling was one Grace never truly got used too.
Despite the sensations of flying through the air on the back of literal dragons, not to mention the feeling of pure power coursing through her own lungs with every shout, somehow the butterflies in her stomach never really went away any time her body dropped any distance more than a story or two. Hell, even a story was a bit much.
This however, was something different. That asshole of a Deadra just loved dramatic entrances. Was it really necessary to carry someone into the stratosphere just to tell them half clipped cryptic sentences about destiny and change and some plan that made no sense?! No. No it was not. Grace screaming bloody murder as she hurtled towards the ground from such a height, changing to screams that could summon dogs as the world shifts and the vertigo caught up to her... now that was necessary.
The problem with screaming was that you were expelling air, not taking it in. The bigger problem was as her body met cold, cold, icy fucking cold water, she no longer had air. Her lungs felt punched through, her entire body seizing and forcing her to try to drag in air that just would not be there no matter how much magic she could use.... that was if she even had any anymore. Salt stung her eyes, red hair floating around her face, feeling like it strangled more than the rush of thick water that made her head hurt. All she could see was hazy light, and she fought to crawl her way to towards it. But her limbs felt heavy... her body wouldn't obey... more water in her lungs, less air... oh gods... was she going to die? Like this?
Vision dimming.... she had to try! This can't be it! Yume... Jace... She had too....
Blackness surrounds her as the weight in her bones outweighs the weight of her will to keep struggling.
*Splash*~
Alistair was a hero! Alistair was the one the helped end the blight! Alistair was... sobering. The smell of the Hanged Man was starting to register again, along with his pounding headache. There had been someone talking to him before hadn't there? A... tall person. Dark hair. He shakes his head as even the struggle of trying to remember makes his head pound worse. Little needles through the eyes, not to mention the shake in his hands.
He needed a drink. Badly. Stumbling up to the bar-top, trying for a smooth smile that probably looked nothing of the sort. No more boyish charm for this disgraced warden, nope! Still he had barely opened his mouth before that tosser, Coriff was it? Anyway, sir "You don't nee more" pointed to the door with yet another sneer.
Alistair's rear end still hurt from the last time he tried to argue with the barkeep. Could also be the near constant state of bruising easily he was in nowadays... hard to tell really. Still it wouldn't be hard to just sneak back in when the surly keep took a breather. Slamming the door behind him was at least somewhat of a balm to his wounded pride.
How had he even gotten to this point? Cold evening air rolling in from the alleyways, tickling his nose and reminding him that with sobriety came feeling again. Not exactly a pleasant idea, having feelings. With that came memories. Of how he was betrayed... of the woman that did it all. The hero that didn't care how she had left him behind, oh no, all she cared about was looking pretty for the power.
"Bitsh" He bites/slurs out, spitting the ground in a show of disdain for the ghost of the woman that wouldn't have given him even a passing glance now.
Hobbling, aimlessly, leaning heavily on walls and stands he makes his way down towards the docks. Well... down and around. It was really only be sheer habit he could navigate the winding streets and halls of this city now. A cluster of three small islands of a sort that surrounded a main town built into the side of the cliffs, Kirkwall had been confusing to navigate since day one. To reach the docks, where his luck for begging for coin from incoming traders and well to dos would be best, you had to first descend several levels from the bar towards the waterfront and then turn to the left and skirt the edge of the dilapidated outer buildings until you reached the docks on the other side... or he could find a boat.
Now on a good day, stealing wasn't Alistair Therin's strong point. Maker on a great day he was as stealthy as a druffalo in a china shop! So what possessed his pickled brain to believe he could simply grab a farriers raft and head directly into the surf of the inlet was beyond... well anyone. It would have been something Morrigan would have berated him for. Somewhere in the back of his addled mind he could even hear her as he pushed clumsy and weak against the very rim of the shallows. More mocking. Laughter that didn't belong to said witch, but to a certain fellow grey warden rang clearly in his mind. His eyes squeezed tight against the offending sound, and the tossing of the waves that rocked this raft he could barely stand on. He needed it to stop. Just... leave him alone. Don't make those sounds she was so good at, don't taunt him like that... don't make his heart flutter and his hands get sweaty all over again... don't flash that smile... just. STOP!
Memories are not his friend, and he knows it. Pitching forwards suddenly as it all is a bit too much, to dry heave against the wood of the raft, begging for all sounds to stop.
Whether that made him more aware of what was going on around him, or whether it was because it was so unexpected, would probably be debatable for the foreseeable future. Regardless, sort of hard to miss the screams above his head, or the mini wave that was made when her body hit the water. Even hunched over like he was he could tell she went deep.
It didn't occur to the man to look up for where exactly she jumped from. He didn't really even stop to wonder why she jumped. He didn't even take the time to shuck off his boots.
Oh no, all he saw was the figure of a woman and the bright red hair slowly becoming harder and harder to see as the murky water took her down.
He got up to his feet without a second thought, and lept.
There's pressure against her lips, and then there is pressure against her chest. Bile rising to her throat and she sits up so suddenly it had to be reflex as she coughs, hard. The other thing is a hard crack against her forehead, but that barely registers as water and bile is expelled from her body, eyes still tightly shut to ward off the light and tears alike.
Everything. Hurt. The ragged gasp that filled her entire being so quickly it made her lightheaded hurt. The cold wood under her back hurt. The pins and needles in virtually every extremity hurt.
Oh yeah and her forehead hurt. Wincing she places a hand over it, feeling a warm stickiness that forces her eyes open to look in shock at the figure currently wheezing and groaning in pain next to her. First thought; Another fantastic entrance by the one and only Grace the nose slayer. Second; Ow.
"I... ugh... I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" She manages between coughs. Not that it was a brilliant question by any means. Not that she couldn't tell by the way his eyes were tearing and glaring at her, or the way that bright crimson dripped from his fingers currently covering his nose exactly what the answer was to that question.
"M' Great thanks!" He snips back, voice thick and muffled and it makes her feel like the absolute worst being on... wait... where even was she now?
Ignoring him for the moment she looks around. Waves buffet the... raft? Raft, they sat on a raft in what appeared to be an inlet of some kind.
She couldn't see any flags of distinguishing features aside from the imposing cliffs and crowded adobe looking structures that haphazardly surrounded them. A few ships. The sky looked... normal. Honestly after the first time she ended up somewhere looking at the sky had become a bit of a habit for her. Nothing like a gaping green hole in the sky to make one forever question what was normal and what wasn't.
"Ugh *Sniffs/Snorts/Spits something* Gee thanks oh kind sir from saving my skin from surely drowning! Might I have the name of my brave hero? Of course m'lady my name is Alistair and you are WELCOME by the way...." His voice changing pitch a couple times, obviously being snide about her silence and distracted glances about, caught her attention. She laughs and shakes her head, extending a hand as a peace offering.
"Sorry... bit lost is all. I'm Grace." She offers, but that's the extent of it. By now there has simply been too much time in her life of peril and near death. So many many years have passed for her... so many years of solitude and then war or cataclysm. Hell if this had been anywhere close to some of the waters she had been in, Sirens and Mermaids would have been on them still. Near drowning? Easy... except for the constant fear of never finding her children again, but at this point that was more a constant state of being.
Speaking of... "So... Hero Alistair... Think the fall must have addled me. Where are we?" A thin lie, but sometimes those worked best. In this case he just looked like he had swallowed something vile, which considering she had all but vomited on his face and broke his nose, and probably nearly drowned him too... might not have been just a reaction to her question.
"Listen lady, when it comes to easy jokes and bad lies I'm king around here. You want to beg at the docks and play the damsel that's fine, but if you're looking for coin here you've got the wrong drunk." He groans as he stands, grabbing the pole arm near the edge of the raft and starting to try, in vain to push. She cocks a brow, watching him flail around for a moment.
".... Are we stuck?" She asks, and is answered by a softly muttered mockery of her question before the answer comes back, "Unless you're an apostate yeah, think we are! What do you think damsel?"
Her eyes widen. Apostate?! But... She glances back at the sky. Whole. Clear. The world isn't thrown into a haze of green so this can't be....
And if she is where she thinks she is.... then that begs the question.
Is she an apostate? Has she lost all magic now? Why send her here?! And specifically... when?
"..... Ever heard of the Inquisition?"
"The what question? Maker.... don't tell me you're one of those Lyrium beggars. Listen I know you have magic. I won't turn you in but you better do something to get us moving or else we will be halfway to Ostwick in a moment."
"How do you know I-"
"Because no one falls from the sky like that for no reason now do something!"
The entire exchange had taken only moments. Those moments all culminated in a sort of cold dread that made her wish that he hadn't saved her at all. Swallowing past the thump in her throat she turns and dips a hand in the water. There's no way she could..... focusing hard, closing her eyes, trying to remember what exactly Magic felt like in Thedas, she had only done it once on her own after all... and that was a century ago.
The water is cold. It moves. But nothing else does.
She sighs and turns her head to glance back at the man now rolling his eyes at what she is sure looks like antics of an apostate. "Alistair I really can't-" Before she can finish the raft lurches towards the docks ahead, a warmth in her fingers and she looks back at the water shocked. Fire spurts under the surface, struggling to stay constant sure, and bright blue to boot but.... there.
She hears him snort, and doesn't need to look to tell he is shaking his head at her.
"Liar." He mutters before grabbing the pole to steer them into an empty dock.
".... So it would seem." She whispers. Feeling cold fear settle in her heart.
So. How much of it all was real? And what now?