allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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TEST DRIVE MEME!

TEST DRIVE MEME

Maybe you’ve been around for a while, or maybe you’re new to the Inquisition. Maybe you’re new to Thedas, having recently fallen from a tear in reality and been collected by uniformed rescuers. Whoever you are, you’ve been sent to Kirkwall, to an outpost where many of the Inquisition’s members and allies work on some of the biggest mysteries and problems the organization must solve if it’d like to keep the world from ending, where “ending” means “falling under the power of an ancient powerful corrupted being who wants everyone to bow to him as a god.”

And just to be clear, it would like that. It would like that a lot.

I. THE GALLOWS: The Gallows is an island fortress in Kirkwall’s harbor. It’s been home to, in order: Tevinter slaves, a Circle of Magi, a lot of creepy red lyrium, and now the Inquisition, which has occupied the fortress with the provisional Viscount’s blessing. There are walls that still need rebuilding and corners that still need dusting, but for the most part the Inquisition has gotten down to business. There’s space in the stone-floored courtyards to train or spar; or, if your skills don’t lie in the realm of hitting things, there’s a large library and several offices supporting the Inquisition’s areas of research and diplomatic efforts. If you don’t know what to do with yourself, then by all means, ask; someone will definitely be able to put you to work.

II. KIRKWALL: A quick row across the harbor will take you to Kirkwall proper. The city is built into the cliffs, from exclusive and wealthy Hightown at the top to impoverished Darktown in the abandoned mining tunnels below. In the middle is Lowtown, home to taverns, merchants, and plenty of trouble to keep anyone looking for it happy. You’re welcome to spend your free time and your money here—but try not to annoy the locals too much, please, in case their welcome runs out. It’d be a shame to have to pack again so soon after arriving.

III. QUESTING: Barely had time to make yourself at home, did you, before you were sent away from Kirkwall again—but this time on a mission. There’s a rift outside of Markham, pouring demons into the fields, and the Inquisition has been asked to lend a hand. Maybe literally. If you have an anchor embedded in your palm, you’re needed to close the damn thing. If not, maybe you’re here to fight demons or guard against bandits on the road, or to gather samples and take notes on the rift’s location once its closed, or to speak to Markham’s nobility afterwards to make sure that they fully appreciate the Inquisition’s efforts. Regardless, it’s a long trip, so we hope you like campfire cooking and sharing a tent.

IV. SENDING CRYSTAL: Joining the Inquisition gets you access to the very latest in barely-understood magical communication devices—namely, a crystal, small enough to wear around your neck, that will allow you to communicate verbally with anyone else who has one. Or everyone else who has one. Say hello.

V. WILDCARD: The whole of Thedas is yours to explore, from coast to uncharted wilderness. Choose your own adventure!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maedhros was still adjusting from being transported from the fiery heart of a volcano to a place that was so like Arda that he was not sure if they were different at all. Or maybe Eru made two worlds and this was the second? Either way, it felt good to be whole again - he had two hands and he was free of the scars he had gained in life. As such, it felt right to visit the training grounds and put his strength to the test.

He did not, for one moment, expect to see his brother - his shadow - striking out at a target there before him. He blinked several times, waiting for the image to fade, but it was stubborn in its reality. If he approached, would he disappear? If he called out, would that undo this spell?

Anxious and desperate for answers, he walked to another target and hit it with all his might, sending it flying towards Maglor. His brother was too good of a warrior for that to hit him.

After believing he'd been hearing and seeing his brothers for so long, he dismissed the familiar presence watching him as another figment. It wasn't the first time, though every time it made his heart hurt and he'd throw himself harder into whatever he was doing.

Maglor knew he wasn't alone on these training grounds, but took pains not to get in the way of anyone else. He hadn't expected a target to be hit with such force that it would hurtle at him, but it was easy to side-step and turn to avoid it and strike at it himself.

Curiosity had him glance at the warrior who had such strength, only for his breath to seize and he stumbled, pale and staring at the figment. His sword dropped from nerveless fingers.

"...N-Nelyo?"

He was frozen, watching Maglor's reaction. His mind would surely remember how his brother moved - how quick he reacted - but there were pieces that took him by surprise. He clung to those pieces vehemently, convincing himself of the truth. This was his brother and significant time had passed since their last meeting.

His brother - his Kano - looked older.

"It's me." his deep voice was broken around the edges, "Is it really you, Kano?"

Aging, even for an elf, wasn't an easy thing. Much less showing it. And Maedhros hadn't aged a bit, though he seemed...whole again. Maglor saw the two hands, the lack of scars he'd come to know as well as his own. Better.

But that voice was the same. Just as battered and brittle and painfully familiar. He drew himself up, scarred hand curling self-consciously in on itself, and he took a few uncertain steps closer, leaving his sword forgotten on the ground.

"...Yes." What was left of him.

The shell was healed, but the spirit within was the same. Maedhros had not been given a chance to pass into the Halls before he was reborn. Yet he was not ungrateful; how could he be with Maglor standing, so handsome, so familiar before him? Yes, his brother had aged, so? He still fit the same in his arms, he was certain.

"You are too far away." he found his courage and walked to his brother, carefully enclosing him in an embrace.

Shells could be fixed far easier than the spirit. Maglor had yet to fully Fade, though he was on his way.

He drew in a shuddering breath and flung himself into those arms before clinging desperately. "I saw you-" he bit his tongue to silence himself, burying his face into his brother's chest to stop himself.

The process would hopefully be slowed - if not completely halted. Maedhros could think of no more terrible fate than Fading. It was uncertain if the fëa could ever be healed.

Solid weight convinced the last part of him that doubted this was Maglor. He buried a hand in his hair and held him protectively.

"Saw me? A vision?"

What if he felt he deserved to Fade? But for his brother, he'd do anything. Just as long as Maedhros didn't vanish again.

He remembered those arms and it hurt. More than he'd ever have expected, but it was a good pain. Maybe. "What do you remember, Nelyo?"

Then he wouldn't be alone. Maedhros would always question why he had been brought back from death not once, but twice.

"The fire... I jumped with the Silmaril in hand. I remember burning." and the pain had been worse than anything he had yet experienced.

Where Maedhros went, Maglor wouldn't be far behind. He'd made that mistake too many times already, he was determined not to repeat it again.

He shuddered, fingers clinging just a bit tighter. "...I saw you fall, and yet I feel your hands. Do they bring the dead back here, too?"

The horror dawned on him rapidly, making him suddenly nauseous. He fought down bile - for he had not eaten since being revived - and he took in a few deep, shaking breaths.

"I didn't know." he had been so blind in his own pain that he had forgotten the precious brother trailing behind him, "...they must. I am real; as real as you and the world around us."

He was falling apart, and he knew it. Maedhros needed him to be stronger, so he took a deep breath and straightened, pulling away and reaching for his brother's returned hand.

"We were fools, Nelyo. We can't afford that any more."

He didn't like Maglor moving away from him. His fingers latched onto the hand offered and he tried to console himself that his brother wasn't running away from him completely.

"I don't know how to apologize..."

Only a little. Maglor would stay only a handful of steps from his brother's side now. Sorry for that loss of privacy! He pulled the hand up to rest his cheek on the back before a sob between a laugh and a sob escaped.

"Just...don't leave me again." Because he couldn't accept an apology.

What use was privacy with six brothers? Maedhros gave up that luxury - if it could be called such - long ago and he had not missed it since! His hand shook at the sound and he leaned forward to kiss Maglor's forehead.

"I have no intention of ever leaving your side." he sighed, "I love you. I did not leave because that changed."

None! Even when he'd 'sacrificed' himself and distracted their little brothers when his big brother needed even a minute to himself.

Maglor clung to the hand and tucked himself back against his brother.

"It didn't keep you from leaving, either."

Such noble sacrifices! Maedhros had made good use of the time, but, in the end, even if he was interrupted, he had not minded.

"I left because... I felt myself being torn apart and I did not know how to stop it." he embraced him again, holding on tight, "It started...with losing our brothers...and Morgoth...and losing Finno..."

He loved each one, really! Their brothers were all precious in their own way. Even now, after everything that had happened and all the horrors they'd done.

"You left because I wasn't strong enough." And he'd only gotten worse, with no one left to him. "I won't fail you again."

Maedhros would always accept them with open arms. Their deeds did not define them in his eyes; they would forever be the sweet Elflings that had followed his lead like baby ducks or excitable pups.

"No." his expression hardened, "Don't you even think that for a second, Kano. It had nothing to do with you. It was my weakness."

Maglor'd had only their ghosts, his memories of their brothers for so long. Both what they'd become, and who they'd once been.

Stubborn disbelief flashed in his eyes as he looked up at his brother. "You are centuries too late, brother. I love you, but you left me alone."

He was late in far too many ways. The deep-seated fatigue was returning the longer he simply lived, but he knew that fighting against it was paramount. No matter what, he must push forward.

"I know." he touched Maglor's cheek tentatively, "I was the last to leave you and...the last you thought would leave you."

He had to let Maglor help, clearly! Even if Maglor was broken and so very tired too...

He pressed into the touch and reached up to hold the hand to his cheek. He might be angry with Maedhros, but he'd never let go again, willingly. "I couldn't follow you..."

They needed to help each other and find strength in others. Maedhros swallowed against the tightness in his throat, caressing Maglor's cheek with his thumb.

"I am glad of that, though I know it caused you immeasurable loneliness and pain." he paused, "Do you still sing?"

Maglor had always been stronger when others had needed him. He could find the strength again, to keep going. He would.

"You have no idea," he whispered, eyes lowered to try and hide the misery in them. His lips twitch, almost bitterly. "Only to keep from being noticed."

As would Maedhros. Being depend upon was a great motivator, but he was determined to not need such a reason. Life alone should be worthwhile and he would find all the reasons to live and share them with his brother.

"You could tell me." he knew words hardly did any of it justice, yet Maglor had a gift in that regard, "We must change that."

/creeps in (I.)

eeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

<3 ^^

<33

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