bakerstreet | the i n s o m n i a meme

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the i n s o m n i a meme

the i n s o m n i a meme

It happens to everyone - sometimes, you have nights where you just can't fall asleep, no matter what you do. It could be for a number of reasons, or no reason at all. And this is what's happened now: you've been laying in bed for what feels like hours, just tossing and turning, and nothing seems to help. So what's left to do? Get out of bed and go wake someone else up, of course. If you're not getting any sleep, then why should they?

i n s t r u c t i o n s

• Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
• Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 10.
• Have fun!

o p t i o n s

01 • FEAR. Maybe you're hearing strange, indeterminable noises; maybe there's a severe storm happening outside; maybe you watched a scary movie before bed? Whatever the reason, you're terrified and it's keeping you awake. You just want to wake someone else up so they can protect you from the monster in your closet.
02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.
03 • PAIN. Your body is completely worn out, be it from exercise, battle, sickness, or what have you. Either way you're in enough pain to keep you from sleeping, so maybe someone else has a home remedy or something, or can at least help you take your mind off of it.
04 • SOLITUDE. For some reason, your bed just feels so empty at the moment. You're feeling terribly lonely and really just want someone to keep you company for a while. Maybe it'd be easier to fall asleep if you're with them...
05 • DISCOMFORT. Your room is an oven. Either that or a freezer. Or maybe this bed is just really uncomfortable? Who knows why you can't get to sleep, it feels like it could be anything. Why even bother trying? Maybe someone else can preoccupy you until you feel tired enough to ignore your discomfort.
06 • PENSIVE. Something's on your mind, and no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere, it's just not going to work. Your body may be tired, but your mind is incredibly busy and it's virtually impossible to get to sleep. Surely, talking it out with someone else will help?
07 • SADNESS. Something terrible has happened that day, perhaps; or you could just be severely depressed. Either way you're trying your hardest not to cry yourself to sleep, and it's not working at all. Better find a way to get it out of your system somehow; you need a shoulder to cry on.
08 • ANGER. You are just... fuming. Who knows why - that annoying dog is barking again, or maybe the people next door are getting busy and keeping you awake. Whatever the reason for your ire is, you'd better put an end to it so you can get some damn rest already! Go wake up a friend so you can complain to them.
09 • RESTLESS. You're far too energetic to sleep right now. Maybe you're just trying to do so out of necessity - you have to be up early tomorrow! But you just don't think you'll be able to fall asleep for a while now, so why waste the time trying to sleep when you could be doing something else? Namely bothering someone else - you're totally jealous because they're getting more sleep than you.
10 • WILDCARD. Choose one of the options above, or make up your own scenario.

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[ It's remarkable to Lasulahn that the Inquisition keeps traveling to progressively colder and colder locations. He had thought Haven miserable, then Skyhold, but neither hold a candle to the Emprise. There's something about the air in Emprise du Lion, beyond the mere temperature.

Being from the temperate Free Marches, Lasulahn is unused to the cold. That alone makes it difficult to sleep. Now, he might swear he hears something on the wind. Something that sounds almost like it's in pain. No one else in the camp seems particularly disturbed by it - or if they are, they've said nothing. Inquisitor Lavellan is never so careless as to leave camp alone in the middle of the night... save for this night. He's not sure what prompts him to make his way unescorted, particularly considering how rife with enemies this area is. Perhaps it is because everyone else seems to be asleep, and everyone has fought hard.

Cloak pulled tightly around him, feet aching from the day's walk through numbing snow and ice, the elf makes his way from the circle of tents and the warmth of the fire, with only a quiet explanation to the lone agent standing watch that he's merely clearing his head, and will be back shortly.

The sound like the grinding of stone echoes loudly enough that he's certain someone else must have heard it, but he is close enough now to the seeming source that to turn back seems simultaneously both the best course of action, and unwise. He lifts his staff, its illumination glittering across the fresh snow, peering for the source of the noise. ]

[ And what should have been a mere pile of rubble in the darkness suddenly moves, giving the scale of what has been making that noise some definition.

It is a dragon. Not an especially large one, but large enough. The elf could perhaps have stood slightly taller than its elbow, were it upright. But in point of fact, it is not standing upright. Instead, in the illumination of Lasulahn's magic, the beast appears to be lying on its side, looking slightly dazed, a strange red glow in its eyes.

And nearby? Clusters of red lyrium sing their crystalline song, woven through with whispers.

Oddly enough, the dragon doesn't look much like any of those native to Thedas. Gold rings encircle two of its horns, as if they've been chosen specifically as decorative pieces. And despite being very male, this dragon has wings, albeit folded uselessly as its back for the moment.

Even so, a dragon is a dragon. Obviously, the solution here is simple. ]

[ The elf startles backwards as the dark shape in front of him moves, and he turns towards it—

There were dragons on the other side of Judicael's Crossing, according to their intelligence, but none were supposed to be here, and certainly not so close to camp. He nearly turns heel to flee, but something stays his feet.

Dragons are beautiful creatures, though Lasulahn's admiration of them is of a different color than the Iron Bull's own adoration. The glimmer of gold catches in the light of his staff, and he finds it curious. He's reminded of a story that Hawke once told him, about Asha'bellanar- a so-called Witch of the Wilds, being able to turn to a fearsome dragon.

It is probably an enemy before him, all the same.

He notices the red lyrium next. It is not an uncommon sight, here in the Emprise, but Lasulahn knows well of Varric's warning not to get too close, and certainly not to touch it. It affects humans, dwarves and elves alike, so it is not surprising that red lyrium might affect dragons, too. Perhaps if the dragon were not corrupted, destroying the lyrium might let it regain its senses, and return to its territory...?

It's a foolish plan, really. What an ignominious end to the Inquisition, the Herald being devoured by a dragon after attempting to save it. Dragons were hunted for sport, their bones displayed as trophies.

But dragons, whether simply that, a Witch of the Wild, or something else entirely, were living creatures, and Lasulahn has ever held a softness for animals and beasts alike.

Unsure of whether he hoped the sound might disturb the camp, or not wake them, he directs the power the Anchor wields into the coalescing form of a fist, directing it downwards onto the red lyrium to crush it. Cassandra or Blackwall might destroy the lyrium simply with their weapons, but the elf holds no such strength in him. This is the best he can manage. ]

[ There's a brittle crack before it shatters, spraying outwards into a thousand blood-red shards, and whether by the noise or the sudden destruction of the lyrium the dragon appears to be rousing from its pained stupor.

Claws dig into the snow, muscles tensing. It shifts with a full-bodied shudder, shaking itself out before slowly rising to its feet, and the rubble nearby falls away from dark pebbled scales with a familiar scraping of stone.

Yes. About to the elbow, when standing.

Those luminous red eyes shift to the shattered lyrium before the dragon shakes its head, as if in an attempt to clear its senses. Then, with an inhale that flares the nostrils, it turns its burning gaze to the elven mage. It doesn't growl, doesn't attack, no, nothing of the sort.

If anything, it seems...puzzled. ]

[ He makes it a few steps back before something freezes him in place. His gaze lifts slowly to take in the dragon at its standing height.

Dragons are breathtaking creatures, particularly up close. Lasulahn's last encounter was not so calm. His senses should tell him this one will not be calm for long, but still he lingers - even as he can almost hear the scolding of his companions already. He keeps his staff at the ready, just in case. ]

It's alright, now. You should return home, this place isn't safe.

[ He's usually smarter than this, really. Though- the dragon already seems to be looking right at him, so it's certainly noticed either him or at least the illuminated staff he holds, so speaking surely can't do much harm. ]

You know, I'd rather noticed.

[ A voice echoes on the air, as the dragon cocks its head in an almost feline manner. ]

Though I believe some thanks are owed, stranger.

[ No one else stands here, no sign of any other movement from the dragon. Clearly, the voice can only have one source. It gives the pile of red crystal a look that is almost disdainful, before shaking its head again and stepping out from the shadow of the ruin.

More to get away from those damned whispers than anything else. Why is it always something trying to get inside his head? ]

[ The Inquisitor startles enough that he has to readjust his grip on his staff, lest he drop it.

Talking dragons is a new thing, in all this strangeness that he's discovered since falling into - and out of - the Fade. He might attribute it to the red lyrium, but he's only ever heard indistinct whispers from the cursed stone. ]

I- yes of course. [ He steps back once more to make room for the great thing as it moves, and Lasulahn cannot help but notice how very small he is next to it- him. ] I heard you some distance away, but I didn't know what the sound was. [ He nods his head and gives some approximation of a bow. ] I'm happy to have helped, if I could.

[ What a deferential little mortal. That's a pleasant surprise. So is the aide, for who knows what might have come of it if he'd been under the spell of that damned rock for however much longer. ]

I'm not often in the fashion of needing help. But it was appreciated all the same.

[ Something else tickles at his senses, as he stares at the elf, so very much the appearance of one like the Sin'dorei. A whiff of magical familiar and foreign, very much like the gateway that allowed him to pass into this realm in the first place.

Slowly, he leans forward, head lowering, until he's staring straight down his nose at the slight figure standing there in the snow. A faint rumble, though not an unfriendly one, resonates in the back of the black dragon's throat. ]

Hm. That is strange magic you carry with you, mage.

I imagine not. [ One would think dragons quite capable, but Lasulahn supposes everyone - even dragons - must need a little help sometimes. He offers a pleasant (if slightly nervous) smile.

The dragon references his magic, and the elf glances down, then holds up his hand, palm out for the other to see the magic still glimmering brightly from its use moments before. ]

Ah- yes. [ He glances to his palm, and then lowers his hand, returning it to his staff. He's not sure what else to say of it, the Anchor. ] Are you... I mean, I don't wish to be rude. I've never encountered a dragon capable of speech, before.

[ He gazes intently at the elf's palm for a moment, at the crackling energy originating not from the skin, not from the body, but from the mark. Radiating through the body. Possible use as a conduit, as a source of power? Fascinating.

Perhaps a point of further conversation at another time. He does intend to return to his own world, at some point. But then the elf speaks again, and this time, the dragon chuckles with a sound that vibrates to the bone. ]

Have you not? Or has no dragon seen reason to converse, before now?

[ An important distinction. ]

[ Something about that laugh reminds him pointedly of just how dangerous this whole thing has been, and continues to be.

His brows raise, and then a sort of sheepishness crosses his countenance. ]

That... is a good point. I suppose I should say I've never heard a dragon speak before, then, and I've not heard of any documented-

[ Although that brings the uncomfortable reminder of Archdemons- but he is not a Grey Warden and certainly no veteran Warden, and thus would be unable to understand them. So... probably not an Archdemon? He hopes. ]

[ Danger is a funny thing. There's the potential of it in most things, but in the unknown the potential never quite leaves one's mind. It would be some time before a speaking dragon became familiar enough that this mortal took for granted the opportunity afforded to him.

Still. Fear and respect are healthy things to hold, when one is so frail of form, and so very flammable. ]

Fairly spoken. And perhaps you are right. Perhaps the dragons here do not speak as I do. I intended to approach them when I encountered...a distraction.

[ And that large horned head swivels about to glare at the offending pile of broken lyrium shards, before a flick of his tail sweeps a nearby snowpile over the glinting red fragments.

A petty gesture, perhaps. ]

[ He can't really blame the dragon for his displeasure at the red lyrium - he feels much the same.

His head lilts to one side, and curiosity continues to get the better of him. ] If it's alright, may I ask from whence you hail? [ North, or far west perhaps? Even across the sea?

More helpfully, he gestures in the direction of Judicael's Crossing, still under repair. ] There have been reports of more than one dragon seen there, across the valley.

[ The broken bridge is a small obstacle. Easily overcome with the use of wings, as it happens. But there's a sudden reticence there.

He's not certain what to expect from these other dragons. And perhaps he ought to rest himself, be at full strength, before he approaches them. Oh, it's not that he wishes to appear worried about such things, but he's prideful. Not stupid.

The dragon's reptilian face appears contemplative for a moment, staring in the direction of those distant ruins, before a snort expels a plume of dark smoke. ]

Hm. Shelter may be the wiser course for now, if you wish to speak further.

[ After all, the flakes are falling fat and fast now, and it's not likely to improve if the look of the sky is any indication. ]

[ The small elf looks at little startled at the plume of smoke, but to his credit, he doesn't jump this time. The surprise shifts to a look of curious wonderment, before he considers the dragon's statement. ]

There are not many buildings around that might shelter a dragon like yourself... and there are people around those that might, save for those across the bridge. ...Valeska's Watch, perhaps? Ah, though getting through the doors may be a challenge. They are large to me but... perhaps not so much to one such as yourself. [ He indicates to a tower visible against the night sky to the southeast. Near there, the specks of the Inquisition's campfires burn. ] I should inform my companions, too, lest they mistake you for one of the dragons seen nearby. [ He is curious about this dragon, and whether or not he proved to be hostile, Lasulahn would not wish to resort to combat before absolutely necessary. ]

Hm. And what plans did they have for these other dragons, I wonder?

[ A knowing look is leveled at the elf, boring right into him for a moment or two, before the dragon's breath exhales once more, this time almost as if the creature is sighing. ]

But you present a valid point.

[ He'd expected to address the dragons first, as one of their own, albeit from another time and place. But if he is first to stay among the mortals of this realm, better to do so less conspicuously. With that decision made, the dragon's head tips back, and suddenly that massive form seems to dissolve away into smoke and ash, which dissipates on the winds of the snowstorm. When it clears, the dragon is gone.

In its place is something decidedly more human in shape and size. He still likely has a good foot of height on the elf, with dark skin, sharp features, and long curly hair, dressed in traveling leathers a little too ornate to belong to any common rogue or hunter.

Those glowing red eyes remain, however, no different than they had been before. With a smirk, he gestures broadly at his new appearance, and when he speaks the deeper resonance of his voice appears to have vanished. ]

Would this be a more convenient size for such accommodations, then? Or should I still expect it likely as not that they will attempt to shoot me on sight?

To assess their threat, first. [ The Iron Bull may have a love of (fetish for?) hunting dragons, but the Inquisitor holds no such fondness for what others might refer to as sport. Still, if they proved a danger to the Inquisition or people of Sahrnia, there would be little choice.

He hastens to back away at the sudden smoke and ash, holding a hand in front of his face momentarily. When he looks back up, the dragon is no longer there.

In its place is a man, but with the same distinct eyes. The mage grips his staff a little tighter. Odd, how a man would feel more threatening than a dragon. Perhaps it's the fact that the dragon can turn into a man... or vice versa. ]

The Inquisition is not so quick to violence, when it's not necessary. But I would know your intentions, that I might better vouch for you. [ He still has his manners though, and introduces himself. ] I am Inquisitor Lasulahn Lavellan, of the Inquisition. We are here in Emprise Du Lion to eradicate the Red Templars. [ He gestures to what is now a small pile of snow. ] They, and their masters, are responsible for the red lyrium that was affecting you.

I know something of 'inquisitions', and from my experience their missions rarely end without blood.

[ Though he doesn't look remotely afraid. Why should he? For an 'Inquisitor', this elf seems rather peaceable. There was no reason for him to aid him when he did, when he could simply have attempted to slay him where he lay. And yet.

His actions speak well of him. And perhaps his organization is cut of the same cloth. Perhaps not. Time and observation alone would tell. But as the elf -- Lavellan, was it? -- offered this much freely, it only fits to return the favor. So he tips forward into a courteous bow. ]

But I have no quarrel with you or yours, Inquisitor. I am Wrathion, the Black Prince, and I hail from a world called Azeroth. A world that, sadly, is now dying. Slowly and painfully.

[ As he straightens, that smirk fades to an expression far more solemn. ]

I am here to seek what I cannot find on our world. An answer. Something that will help to restore her, before it is too late.

Blood there has been and will be, I'm afraid, I will not lie to you. Though, it is not our cause and it is not without reason- and I seek to keep it that way. [ Lasulahn politely returns the man's bow, and listens with considerable bewilderment.

He supposes that this man, Wrathion, has no reason to lie. By the same token, his tale, short as it is, is so fantastical as to be unbelievable. Perhaps he misheard, and it is another land, not world. No one really seems to know much of what is across the Amaranthine Ocean, save the mysterious 'Executors'. Lasulahn gets the nagging feeling he did not mishear, though, leaving two options: that the so-called Black Prince is lying, or that there truly are entire other worlds, beyond Thedas and beyond the Fade. ]

I have... a great many questions, but as you say, perhaps shelter would be better, first. [ He motions again towards the tower. ] I should let my companions know, first, else they'll be out looking for me. I'd offer you a place in our camp, but I don't wish to wake them unnecessarily.

Of course. Do as you must. I believe I can find my way there on my own.

[ Woe to any that tried to stop him, that returning smirk seems to say.

It is a considerably more difficult trek to make with no wings and shorter legs, but he will make do. A simple glamor and the guards don't even notice the glowing eyes, just another adventurer out on the roads in need of a place to wait out the coming storm. Meanwhile it gives him time to consider his new acquaintance.

And that strange mark on his hand, the scent of it so much like that gateway.

'Inquisitor' is also not a reassurance. But one could make worse allies, he reasons. If he's been willing to help once, perhaps this mortal will see fit to do so once more. ]

[ The Inquisitor nods his agreement. Explaining the situation to the worried agent is more complicated than he expected, particularly when the agent heard the shattering of the red lyrium - though thankfully not clearly enough to know what it was. He explains cautiously that he had met a traveler, and was escorting him to Valeska's Watch to wait out the snowstorm. He might be a while, even though the watch is only a short distance away. Any offer to escort the traveler so the Inquisitor might actually get some sleep is gently turned down.

He joins Wrathion shortly, pushing open the great doors to the abandoned Warden fortress, and looks about the hall quietly. ] I hope you didn't have any trouble.

Not at all. The paths here seem well-patrolled. That would be your Inquisition's doing, then?

[ The dragon has taken to observing various parts of the ruin, the heraldry and statues, with considerable interest. He has no context for them of course, but it appears to have once been a hall for warriors of some variety. Long since dead, from the state of relative decay, and the scent wafting up from the stones.

He pauses in his exploration to look back at Inquisitor Lavellan, one eyebrow arching gently. ]

In this area, yes. There is much still that is controlled by the Red Templars.

[ He finds a brazier, standing close and giving a subtle gesture. The flame brightens, warmth spreading through the uncomfortable chill air. His attention returns to the other. ]

You mentioned you hoped to find something... do you know precisely what it is you are looking for?

[ The light throws shadows around the crumbling stone, deepening the contrast of those armored statues to an almost sinister degree. Wrathion observes them coolly for a moment, momentarily lost in thought. ]

Only that it is an object of great power. Such that we were able to track it through the veil between worlds.

[ And he gestures towards the elf's hand, the one that possessed that odd green glow to it. ]

Something very similar to that, in fact. Though not your actual hand, thankfully. You'll be keeping that for the time being, never fear.

There are few objects of such power that are known to us. [ Lasulahn speaks with a level tone, though he knows the mark on his hand comes from magic originally of Elvhen origin. Part of him feels protective over the magic of his people. Such an artifact could serve as a great bridge to understanding more of their lost culture and history.

Though... that magic is currently in the hands of Corypheus.

The Inquisitor is not a manipulative sort, but he is somewhat diplomatic. Should this man's story be true, they could join forces against a common enemy. Though- he is keenly aware of the idea that, should such a power transfer from the hands of an ancient Tevinter Magister to this shapeshifter supposedly of another realm, they could very well end up in the same position in which they started.

He's thoughtful for a moment, and chooses his next question carefully. ] Did you only recently begin looking, or did this source make itself known after some time?

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