Estella wasn't sure whether the rivers out here ever melted, but if so, they certainly didn't do so this early in the year.
Ever since everything that had happened in the Fade, she'd found herself always returning in her thoughts to several specific moments there. Most of them, she didn't especially want to dwell upon, but the one she could tolerate thinking about was when she'd felt something change in the mark on her hand. She could recall the sequence very clearly: desperation, followed by some kind of magic, and then a strange lightness to her body. She'd charged, blinked, and somehow been where she wanted to be, much sooner than should have been possible.
Maybe it was something about the Fade itself, producing a strange effect that she would never be able to replicate in the real world. Her common sense informed her it was most likely just a fluke, if not something she'd imagined entirely. But some other part of her wouldn't let it go so easily. Because if it wasn't a fluke, if it was something she could learn to harness, then...
Estella sighed, steadying her balance on the riverbank. She'd asked Romulus and her brother both to accompany her beyond the walls of Skyhold. There was no need to risk accidentally pulling half of the castle into the Fade. The rift she'd opened when they were falling was easily large enough to be seriously dangerous if replicated, and while she didn't intend to try that, it might well happen by accident. Some of the scouts formed a loose perimeter around them, but she'd asked them to keep a relatively-safe distance, just in case.
“I think," she started, shifting her weight a little and pushing down the furred hood of her cloak. “That my mark has different properties from Romulus's, somehow. But it might be that they function in similar ways anyhow. If I remember, you were really, um, panicked, maybe? The first time you did something new with it, after Haven. I felt something similar, in the Fade." She wasn't actually sure if he'd have any idea what she was talking about; they'd all been kind of occupied at the time, after all.
"Not panicked," Romulus said, "but... frustrated? Angry. Desperate maybe." He had yet to remove his own hood, and by the looks of things he wasn't planning on it. Skyhold was cold enough within the protection of its walls. Outside the wind had a way of picking up to the point of icy daggers that even a year or more in the south hadn't helped him get used to. "It happened when I needed to help Khari. Er, both times." It seemed as though he'd never really thought about that fact, judging by the way he reacted to saying it. His lips thinned into a slight frown. He shook it off quickly enough. "I don't know if it works the same for you. I've never opened a rift like that, or... whatever it was you did during the fight."
Cyrus looked no more comfortable than Romulus did, bundled in a thick cloak, at least three layers of robes and tunics under that, and gloves lined with fur for warmth. His nose was already a bright shade of red, contrasting sharply with his complexion, and the ruddiness was quickly spreading across his cheeks and brow as well, hood notwithstanding. Nevertheless, he followed the exchange intently. “How did it feel, when you first got them?" The question seemed slightly off-topic, but knowing him, he was driving at some hypothesis or another with it. “You remember now, don't you?"
Estella swallowed, glancing down at her right hand. She could see the mark dimly even through her glove. She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but it seemed to have brightened since she'd opened the rift, and not dimmed again. It was impossible to know what that meant, of course, but...
“It felt..." She hesitated, squeezing her fingertips into her palm. It wasn't that she didn't know the words. It was that she couldn't imagine that they meant anything. That they were evidence for anything real or important. She was almost afraid to say them, for fear they'd sound more absurd aloud than they did in her own head, and she'd realize that they couldn't possibly be true. Her eyes met Cyrus's, inquisitive as ever, and she wondered what he'd say. What Romulus would say.
But now she was being ridiculous. Forcing her fingers to relax, she shook her head a bit. “It felt right, and then wrong. Like something was clicking into place, for just a moment, but then falling out of alignment again. Even before, there was something about the orb, like it was—" She grimaced. “Maybe it was just the magic." She didn't often make her status as a mage evident, but even if she wasn't a good one, she still qualified. And magic could draw anyone to it, in the right circumstances.
She met eyes with Romulus. “Did you feel anything like that?"
"Maybe?" Romulus ventured, after a brief bout of hesitation. "What I did went against what my instincts should have been, and it went against my training. I had no reason to reach for the orb. I'm not a mage, and I wouldn't have been able to make use of it. I'd long since been taught not to grab magical objects of unknown origin or power." There were surely some stories there of painful lessons in Minrathous, but he did not deign to share them.
"Afterwards... I'd thought I was the only one who thought it was right. I thought that the pull of the orb signified something greater, and the way the mark felt... I don't know." He looked at once relieved to be admitting it, and somewhat ashamed as well. "I thought that recovering our memories would prove something, about why we were marked. But maybe it just further confirmed that I'm too willing to believe lies about myself."
Estella didn't really know what to make of it. It was as Romulus said—being drawn to an artifact of power was no indication of anything in particular. Or at least they didn't have proof otherwise. She wasn't sure why it had felt so exactly right for a moment before the feeling vanished. She certainly hadn't woken afterward with any lingering sense that the mark belonged there. Perhaps the Anchor itself had been seeking a wielder, and anyone would have done.
“I still don't know anything about why it was us, if there's a reason at all. But... if we can develop the powers they have, maybe it won't matter why." Whether they were chosen, the mere victims of chance, or something in between, it seemed to be up to them now anyway. To figure out this magic and put it to use.
Rolling her shoulders, Estella glanced around, then stepped out onto the frozen river itself. There wasn't a lot of flat terrain on a mountainside, and she didn't want to break a leg on a hill or something, so even risking her balance seemed like a better alternative. “I was desperate, too," she said, pursing her lips. “But I'm usually pretty desperate in a fight, and nothing had happened before then. So I'm not really sure what to do."
“I think this may have started sooner than you imagine." Cyrus was still close enough on the bank that he didn't need to raise his voice much for her to hear. He tucked his hands under his armpits, sniffing audibly. “You did something to disrupt Pike's attempt to interfere with your mark, yes? It might not be that different. Try that again and see what happens."
She frowned. It was as sound an idea as any she had, but she wasn't sure it was possible. Pike had been disrupting the mark in some way she didn't really understand, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to replicate the way in which she resisted when there was nothing to resist. But it was worth a try.
Sliding the glove on her right hand off, Estella tucked it into her belt and ventured slightly further out onto the ice. It was extremely solid underfoot, and not actually all that smooth, making it easy enough to traverse. She made sure she had solid footing before reaching for the magic, though. Pulling in a breath, she closed her eyes and tried to remember.
At first it was like trying to grip water in her hands—the power was just too slippery and elusive to grasp. But if she didn't try so much to force it and guided it instead, she could at least sort of decide how it flowed. Estella's brows knit together, deep concentration etching itself into the corners of her mouth and eyes. Not quite that, more like—
A loud crack split the air quite suddenly. Startled, she staggered backwards a step, landing on her rear end upon the ice. Her eyes flew open; everything in the world was green. Or rather, there was a greenish filter over her field of vision, more like. Estella glanced down, noting that it wasn't just her head—her entire body seemed to be wreathed in some kind of shifting... something. Not quite light, not quite mist, but certainly not dense enough to be fluid, either. Different patches of it were darker or brighter, and it looked like there was motion in it. Like waves rolling up against shore, receding with the undertow. It didn't extend too far in any direction, and there didn't seem to be any rift involved, either. She felt no pain.
She froze, afraid that moving would mess it up somehow, but risked turning her head. “Um, guys? What am I doing?"
Cyrus was already moving out over the ice towards her. His face showed some degree of genuine alarm, actually, and it didn't fade even once he was close enough to ascertain that she was unharmed. Instead, he reached through the foglike veil and touched her shoulder. The contact was solid, but it felt distant. Numb. It seemed to bring him some relief, though; his expression eased a little.
“I believe you've transitioned partway into the Fade." His words were edged, with some slightly-awkward combination of giddy excitement and what seemed to be suppressed concern. “How do you feel?"
Partway into the—? Estella blinked, her surprise registering on a slight delay. All of a sudden, the green tinge to everything disappeared, the mark's power receding without her will or consent, like a candle snuffed. She shivered. Even the cold had felt further away for a moment there. “But..." She stopped, unsure what her objection was. But that's impossible didn't really seem to apply to any of the things they all dealt with lately, and she'd have felt silly for even saying it.
So instead, she sighed. “I don't... if that's going to help anything, it needs to stay put." Over her brother's shoulder, she sought Romulus. “Have you figured out any way to make anything the mark does more stable? Or... last longer, I guess?" She wasn't actually sure if he could reliably make whatever he did happen now or not, but if he'd managed to figure out how, she was almost certain it would help her as well.
"Stable?" He spoke the word like it was almost foreign to him. He'd kept his distance, unlike Cyrus, clearly not eager to be within the range of whatever it was that might happen while Estella experimented with her mark. "I don't think I've made anything that was stable, no. All I really do is create rifts, to pull things in, and then collapse them. I've never wanted the rift to stay open after I've created it, so..." He trailed off, the rest of his words obvious. He relied on the instability of his rifts in order to make them collapse quickly and do their work.
"I could try, if you want. I don't know what will happen, though."
She smiled. “At this point, I don't think any of us really do. But if you don't mind trying, it might help." Maybe the both of them, maybe not. But it seemed to her like the more they knew about the marks, the better. And without anything too helpful in their memories, they'd have to come by that information some other way.
"Okay, just... please stay back. If I lose control of it, it's going to close violently." He took a deep breath, rolling his head side to side, and pressed his fingers together, stretching them backwards. He then removed his glove from the marked hand, as Estella had, choosing to toss it aside in the snow. Widening his stance a little, he held out the mark, and with a moment of focus, the familiar green crackle of energy burst to life.
The rift began very small, no larger than a marble in size, right in front of his palm. Little shocks of energy zapped away from it in every direction, some of the coiling up his arm. Romulus narrowed his eyes at it in concentration, and it began to grow, larger and larger. It grew to a helmet's size, and as Romulus took a step back it continued, until it was roughly the width of Vesryn's shield. It wavered and wobbled, finally large enough to indeed see that it was a rift to the Fade. It began to consume the lightly fallen snow around it, leaving a circular area of blank ice on the frozen river. Romulus gritted his teeth, and still it grew larger.
His glove then lifted off the ground and flew right in. His eyes were drawn to it, his focus disrupted just for a moment, and that was all it took. With a low thwom the rift collapsed in on itself right in front of him, sending out a shockwave that threw him from his feet amidst small chunks of ice and drifting clouds of snow. They rained down around them, in the way bits of the walls at Adamant had when they were struck by projectiles launched from trebuchets.
When the snow cloud cleared enough Romulus could be seen getting back to his feet, coughing and brushing the snow off of his cloak and pants. From above, Lia could be seen hopping off a rock and coming a bit closer.
"Are you alright?" she shouted. Several other scouts looked on in concern.
Romulus waved them off. "I'm fine, I'm fine."
"Okay." Lia turned to head back towards her rock. "That was really cool, by the way."
“She's not wrong." Cyrus still had his arms tucked under his cloak, but he looked decidedly less miserable now, even given the cold. “Though it seems to me as though 'stability' isn't anyone's strong suit at the moment." He actually smiled at that, almost a grin. “Something to work on, perhaps."
He turned to her and arched an eyebrow. “Try again? I'll stand closer this time. Perhaps I'll notice something different."
Despite herself, Estella smiled, too, still brushing ice chunks out of her hair. “Uh... sure. Can't hurt to practice, right?"
Ever since everything that had happened in the Fade, she'd found herself always returning in her thoughts to several specific moments there. Most of them, she didn't especially want to dwell upon, but the one she could tolerate thinking about was when she'd felt something change in the mark on her hand. She could recall the sequence very clearly: desperation, followed by some kind of magic, and then a strange lightness to her body. She'd charged, blinked, and somehow been where she wanted to be, much sooner than should have been possible.
Maybe it was something about the Fade itself, producing a strange effect that she would never be able to replicate in the real world. Her common sense informed her it was most likely just a fluke, if not something she'd imagined entirely. But some other part of her wouldn't let it go so easily. Because if it wasn't a fluke, if it was something she could learn to harness, then...
Estella sighed, steadying her balance on the riverbank. She'd asked Romulus and her brother both to accompany her beyond the walls of Skyhold. There was no need to risk accidentally pulling half of the castle into the Fade. The rift she'd opened when they were falling was easily large enough to be seriously dangerous if replicated, and while she didn't intend to try that, it might well happen by accident. Some of the scouts formed a loose perimeter around them, but she'd asked them to keep a relatively-safe distance, just in case.
“I think," she started, shifting her weight a little and pushing down the furred hood of her cloak. “That my mark has different properties from Romulus's, somehow. But it might be that they function in similar ways anyhow. If I remember, you were really, um, panicked, maybe? The first time you did something new with it, after Haven. I felt something similar, in the Fade." She wasn't actually sure if he'd have any idea what she was talking about; they'd all been kind of occupied at the time, after all.
"Not panicked," Romulus said, "but... frustrated? Angry. Desperate maybe." He had yet to remove his own hood, and by the looks of things he wasn't planning on it. Skyhold was cold enough within the protection of its walls. Outside the wind had a way of picking up to the point of icy daggers that even a year or more in the south hadn't helped him get used to. "It happened when I needed to help Khari. Er, both times." It seemed as though he'd never really thought about that fact, judging by the way he reacted to saying it. His lips thinned into a slight frown. He shook it off quickly enough. "I don't know if it works the same for you. I've never opened a rift like that, or... whatever it was you did during the fight."
Cyrus looked no more comfortable than Romulus did, bundled in a thick cloak, at least three layers of robes and tunics under that, and gloves lined with fur for warmth. His nose was already a bright shade of red, contrasting sharply with his complexion, and the ruddiness was quickly spreading across his cheeks and brow as well, hood notwithstanding. Nevertheless, he followed the exchange intently. “How did it feel, when you first got them?" The question seemed slightly off-topic, but knowing him, he was driving at some hypothesis or another with it. “You remember now, don't you?"
Estella swallowed, glancing down at her right hand. She could see the mark dimly even through her glove. She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but it seemed to have brightened since she'd opened the rift, and not dimmed again. It was impossible to know what that meant, of course, but...
“It felt..." She hesitated, squeezing her fingertips into her palm. It wasn't that she didn't know the words. It was that she couldn't imagine that they meant anything. That they were evidence for anything real or important. She was almost afraid to say them, for fear they'd sound more absurd aloud than they did in her own head, and she'd realize that they couldn't possibly be true. Her eyes met Cyrus's, inquisitive as ever, and she wondered what he'd say. What Romulus would say.
But now she was being ridiculous. Forcing her fingers to relax, she shook her head a bit. “It felt right, and then wrong. Like something was clicking into place, for just a moment, but then falling out of alignment again. Even before, there was something about the orb, like it was—" She grimaced. “Maybe it was just the magic." She didn't often make her status as a mage evident, but even if she wasn't a good one, she still qualified. And magic could draw anyone to it, in the right circumstances.
She met eyes with Romulus. “Did you feel anything like that?"
"Maybe?" Romulus ventured, after a brief bout of hesitation. "What I did went against what my instincts should have been, and it went against my training. I had no reason to reach for the orb. I'm not a mage, and I wouldn't have been able to make use of it. I'd long since been taught not to grab magical objects of unknown origin or power." There were surely some stories there of painful lessons in Minrathous, but he did not deign to share them.
"Afterwards... I'd thought I was the only one who thought it was right. I thought that the pull of the orb signified something greater, and the way the mark felt... I don't know." He looked at once relieved to be admitting it, and somewhat ashamed as well. "I thought that recovering our memories would prove something, about why we were marked. But maybe it just further confirmed that I'm too willing to believe lies about myself."
Estella didn't really know what to make of it. It was as Romulus said—being drawn to an artifact of power was no indication of anything in particular. Or at least they didn't have proof otherwise. She wasn't sure why it had felt so exactly right for a moment before the feeling vanished. She certainly hadn't woken afterward with any lingering sense that the mark belonged there. Perhaps the Anchor itself had been seeking a wielder, and anyone would have done.
“I still don't know anything about why it was us, if there's a reason at all. But... if we can develop the powers they have, maybe it won't matter why." Whether they were chosen, the mere victims of chance, or something in between, it seemed to be up to them now anyway. To figure out this magic and put it to use.
Rolling her shoulders, Estella glanced around, then stepped out onto the frozen river itself. There wasn't a lot of flat terrain on a mountainside, and she didn't want to break a leg on a hill or something, so even risking her balance seemed like a better alternative. “I was desperate, too," she said, pursing her lips. “But I'm usually pretty desperate in a fight, and nothing had happened before then. So I'm not really sure what to do."
“I think this may have started sooner than you imagine." Cyrus was still close enough on the bank that he didn't need to raise his voice much for her to hear. He tucked his hands under his armpits, sniffing audibly. “You did something to disrupt Pike's attempt to interfere with your mark, yes? It might not be that different. Try that again and see what happens."
She frowned. It was as sound an idea as any she had, but she wasn't sure it was possible. Pike had been disrupting the mark in some way she didn't really understand, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to replicate the way in which she resisted when there was nothing to resist. But it was worth a try.
Sliding the glove on her right hand off, Estella tucked it into her belt and ventured slightly further out onto the ice. It was extremely solid underfoot, and not actually all that smooth, making it easy enough to traverse. She made sure she had solid footing before reaching for the magic, though. Pulling in a breath, she closed her eyes and tried to remember.
At first it was like trying to grip water in her hands—the power was just too slippery and elusive to grasp. But if she didn't try so much to force it and guided it instead, she could at least sort of decide how it flowed. Estella's brows knit together, deep concentration etching itself into the corners of her mouth and eyes. Not quite that, more like—
A loud crack split the air quite suddenly. Startled, she staggered backwards a step, landing on her rear end upon the ice. Her eyes flew open; everything in the world was green. Or rather, there was a greenish filter over her field of vision, more like. Estella glanced down, noting that it wasn't just her head—her entire body seemed to be wreathed in some kind of shifting... something. Not quite light, not quite mist, but certainly not dense enough to be fluid, either. Different patches of it were darker or brighter, and it looked like there was motion in it. Like waves rolling up against shore, receding with the undertow. It didn't extend too far in any direction, and there didn't seem to be any rift involved, either. She felt no pain.
She froze, afraid that moving would mess it up somehow, but risked turning her head. “Um, guys? What am I doing?"
Cyrus was already moving out over the ice towards her. His face showed some degree of genuine alarm, actually, and it didn't fade even once he was close enough to ascertain that she was unharmed. Instead, he reached through the foglike veil and touched her shoulder. The contact was solid, but it felt distant. Numb. It seemed to bring him some relief, though; his expression eased a little.
“I believe you've transitioned partway into the Fade." His words were edged, with some slightly-awkward combination of giddy excitement and what seemed to be suppressed concern. “How do you feel?"
Partway into the—? Estella blinked, her surprise registering on a slight delay. All of a sudden, the green tinge to everything disappeared, the mark's power receding without her will or consent, like a candle snuffed. She shivered. Even the cold had felt further away for a moment there. “But..." She stopped, unsure what her objection was. But that's impossible didn't really seem to apply to any of the things they all dealt with lately, and she'd have felt silly for even saying it.
So instead, she sighed. “I don't... if that's going to help anything, it needs to stay put." Over her brother's shoulder, she sought Romulus. “Have you figured out any way to make anything the mark does more stable? Or... last longer, I guess?" She wasn't actually sure if he could reliably make whatever he did happen now or not, but if he'd managed to figure out how, she was almost certain it would help her as well.
"Stable?" He spoke the word like it was almost foreign to him. He'd kept his distance, unlike Cyrus, clearly not eager to be within the range of whatever it was that might happen while Estella experimented with her mark. "I don't think I've made anything that was stable, no. All I really do is create rifts, to pull things in, and then collapse them. I've never wanted the rift to stay open after I've created it, so..." He trailed off, the rest of his words obvious. He relied on the instability of his rifts in order to make them collapse quickly and do their work.
"I could try, if you want. I don't know what will happen, though."
She smiled. “At this point, I don't think any of us really do. But if you don't mind trying, it might help." Maybe the both of them, maybe not. But it seemed to her like the more they knew about the marks, the better. And without anything too helpful in their memories, they'd have to come by that information some other way.
"Okay, just... please stay back. If I lose control of it, it's going to close violently." He took a deep breath, rolling his head side to side, and pressed his fingers together, stretching them backwards. He then removed his glove from the marked hand, as Estella had, choosing to toss it aside in the snow. Widening his stance a little, he held out the mark, and with a moment of focus, the familiar green crackle of energy burst to life.
The rift began very small, no larger than a marble in size, right in front of his palm. Little shocks of energy zapped away from it in every direction, some of the coiling up his arm. Romulus narrowed his eyes at it in concentration, and it began to grow, larger and larger. It grew to a helmet's size, and as Romulus took a step back it continued, until it was roughly the width of Vesryn's shield. It wavered and wobbled, finally large enough to indeed see that it was a rift to the Fade. It began to consume the lightly fallen snow around it, leaving a circular area of blank ice on the frozen river. Romulus gritted his teeth, and still it grew larger.
His glove then lifted off the ground and flew right in. His eyes were drawn to it, his focus disrupted just for a moment, and that was all it took. With a low thwom the rift collapsed in on itself right in front of him, sending out a shockwave that threw him from his feet amidst small chunks of ice and drifting clouds of snow. They rained down around them, in the way bits of the walls at Adamant had when they were struck by projectiles launched from trebuchets.
When the snow cloud cleared enough Romulus could be seen getting back to his feet, coughing and brushing the snow off of his cloak and pants. From above, Lia could be seen hopping off a rock and coming a bit closer.
"Are you alright?" she shouted. Several other scouts looked on in concern.
Romulus waved them off. "I'm fine, I'm fine."
"Okay." Lia turned to head back towards her rock. "That was really cool, by the way."
“She's not wrong." Cyrus still had his arms tucked under his cloak, but he looked decidedly less miserable now, even given the cold. “Though it seems to me as though 'stability' isn't anyone's strong suit at the moment." He actually smiled at that, almost a grin. “Something to work on, perhaps."
He turned to her and arched an eyebrow. “Try again? I'll stand closer this time. Perhaps I'll notice something different."
Despite herself, Estella smiled, too, still brushing ice chunks out of her hair. “Uh... sure. Can't hurt to practice, right?"