congrekate | dragon age au!

dragon age au!

The rumor mill is still going on as to why Jonathan Strange fled the circle to become an apostate mage. Some say that it's as simple as an argument with his former tutor. Others say that the man never really recovered from his actions in the Mage-Templar War. The most likely answer is that something snapped after the death of his beloved. The one thing everyone can agree on is that it's really a shame someone with such potential threw it all away. He could have easily made his way up the social ladder, working at a court somewhere!

To which Strange would respond that he was doing perfectly fine right now, thank you very much, even if he was currently living in a shack that leaked when it rained, he had not even half of the books he was used to, and he heard people whisper behind his back, calling him the 'mad mage of the Dales'. So be it. His plan was probably a bit mad to begin with: Jonathan Strange planned to summon a god.

Not just any god, of course. He had gone through the various pantheons, trying to find the perfect one to grant him what he wanted (power, mostly, a way to take the tools and trade of necromancy and make it more solid, to raise the dead instead of raising spirits.) And eventually, Strange settled on Fen'Harel. He could draw upon the power of the location of the Dales as well as his status as an outsider himself to appeal to the god. The ritual itself was the most complex part, but modified necromancy bindings and a few of his own additions should suffice.

And so, Strange performs the magic. And poor Solas is probably just damn confused as to what he sees when he's forcibly woken up from his nap. The shack is small, covered head to toe with knick-knacks and trinkets, some of magical significance, others not. Dried herbs cover a table and books cover almost any other flat surface. Good luck trying to find where Strange sleeps as the bed has also become storage space. The mage himself looks wild: a middle aged human with scruff and hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in years, clothes ragged and dirty. And he just regards Solas with sheer confusion.

"I thought the wolf part was literal."

This is an elf. This isn't a dog. Did he make a mistake in the summoning? And if he didn't summon a god, then who the hell did he summon?

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"We met when we were children." As he talks, it becomes more and more obvious that Strange is still just straight up in love with Arabella despite the fact that she passed. "I was trained at the White Spire which...thankfully was much more liberal with the treatment of the mages than Kirkwall. I was allowed to return home first for the death of my mother and then, a few years later, for the death of my father. Well, at that point I certainly didn't want to return to the White Spire but that business with the phylacteries meant that I couldn't escape even if I wanted to. So, Arabella moved to Val Royeaux instead."

Strange just continues talking no matter whether Solas wants to listen or not. "It wasn't ideal, but we managed to make it work. During that massacre at the conclave, I decided that phylacteries or not, I wasn't going to stay there a moment longer. We fled to the countryside. We had just gotten everything settled and our life together started when..."

When she died. Strange stops walking for a moment, partly to catch his breath, partly to try and shake the memories out of his head.

Fortunately Solas is listening. If there's one thing he wants right now, it's to know what he's dealing with. He knew Strange was grief-stricken, obsessed with the passing of a loved one, but now he had a better idea of how much this was the case. When Strange stops walking, Solas only pauses for a brief second to make sure the man wasn't about to fall over and die before he keeps going. They had ground to cover and the man had said he was fit for travel. It was time to make good on that.

"How did she die?" He saw no visible markings on the corpse, no maiming. He would hazard a guess at disease.

Having taken a brief moment to regain his composure, Strange keeps going as well. "It was a chill, of all things," he bitterly responded. "She had to go out one evening, fell ill, and got worse from there."

He laughs, a short, harsh laugh. "I tried healing remedies, of course. I tried every spell at my disposal. But in the end, none of them kept her alive. Can you believe that? One of the greatest mages the Circle's ever produced and I can't do anything about a damn cold!"

Illness as he had suspected. The only part of Strange's story he takes issue with is the 'greatest mage' part and for the first time in their conversation together, Solas decides not to immediately bring this up and bites his tongue.

"You are not worried she will be sick if she is resurrected?" A big 'if.' Solas may be guiding Strange on a quest, but he has no real intentions of helping him in such a foolhardy mission. He had his own to work on.

Strange looks over at Solas as if this is the most obvious thing ever and the elf's a bit of an idiot for not getting this.

"She'd be alive. That's what matters the most." Duh, Solas. "If she is sick, I'll just find a way to cure it myself. After all, I've already eliminated a good number of options."

Because of course that's something he can do. Why wouldn't he?

"Yes, sick with something you failed to cure in time previously," he replies dryly and stares at Strange. Did the man truly not see a problem with that? Or did he really think he simply needed another day, another hour to solve what ailed his loved one?

With what he's seen, Solas imagines that is the case. He may have found the one person more deluded than he is.

Yeah, it's the latter. Strange is stubborn, arrogant, puts too much faith in his magic, and is blinded by love. He's going to bring Arabella back from the dead and cure any illness that afflicts her because what else could he do?

"That's just it, though: time previously. I'll have more time this go-around and I won't make the same mistakes."

"How long before she succumbed to the illness the first time?"

If the man thought he was going to revive a woman who has been dead for far too long and have more than he did previously to cure this illness then he was insane along with delusional.

And here's the point where Strange knows that if he answers the question truthfully, Solas is going to judge him but if he doesn't answer the question, he's equally going to be judged.

"Long enough," he simply answers, knowing full well that's a terrible answer. It was a week, tops.

Solas doesn't plan to let up on this line of questioning. He is judging, he is judging very much, but anyone that knew him would not be surprised to learn this.

"Have you been searching for a cure or purely for a method of resurrection?" One would be useless without the other, in his opinion, but he's only 'helping' in one matter.

"Mostly a method of resurrection. I'll search for a cure when I get aggravated with my lack of results, but I need to actually have a living patient if I want to try and cure her."

One is very useless without the other, and Strange realizes that. It's no use finding the cure for an illness if the ill person is already dead.

He shrugs. Whatever happened after this resurrection was Strange's problem. If he even managed to get that far. Solas had never hard of this happening successfully and while he's willing to drag Strange along as he searches for his object of power, he's not going to make any great effort to help Strange beyond letting the man get lost in ancient texts. It would be funny trying to watch the human read elven.

"We will see if you have a patient at all," he remarks evenly. "You will need to survive the journey first." And he may be regarding Strange now to see if the man's faltering in step.

He's...well, he's still walking. Strange is flagging a bit and not walking as fast as he did when they started but he's still upright and still walking and that's what matters the most. As Solas looks back at him, Strange straightens up as if to somehow prove to the elf that see, he's doing fine, he's got this.

"What exceedingly small faith you have. I'll survive just fine."

No he won't.

Solas lets out a heavy sigh as he slightly lessens his step. Fine, he could walk a little slower though he refuses to completely meet the man and walk side-by-side. It hadn't been Solas' fault the mage had chosen to take in the rot of his dead wife out of a stupid need to prove himself.

"I would prefer not to drag a corpse the rest of the way." At least survive until he gets his focus back, please.

"I won't die like this," Strange says, with a hundred percent certainty. Because he won't. He won't let himself die until Solas gets whatever he needs and he uses that to bring back Arabella.

After that...well, who the hell knows what would happen. But she'd be alive. That's what matters.

Strange picks up his pace a little, as if to prove to Solas that no, screw you, he's fine. Though there is one question on his mind. "Where are we going anyway?"

It's not 'are we there yet', despite the fact that it kind of is.

Alive for how long and at what cost. Solas would let Strange deal with those questions though he's unsure he could bring back a woman only for her to have to suffer through the pains of death once more if the man didn't have a solution ready.

"To ancient elven ruins," he answers dryly. "Is that not why you summoned me?"

To take him somewhere appropriately ancient and elven in nature. At least the ruins of his People still served a purpose when the Dalish were unable to make proper use of them.

"I summoned you to bring my wife back," he responds, with a bit of an eye roll. "The 'how' doesn't precisely matter."

Except it kind of did. Ancient elven ruins...in another time, he'd be chomping at the bit to visit something like that, spending all his time climbing around the ruins, taking notes, generally being a bit of a nuisance in trying to explore all he could. He wouldn't lie, he is a bit excited to see these ruins, but bringing Arabella back remains at the forefront of his mind. He can't let himself get distracted.

"Even if it required a ritual of blood magic?" he asks, watching curiously.

If the man was willing to summon one people considered a god then he doubts that would be off-limits. Though perhaps if he pretended it had to involve the blood of children or innocent lambs the man might feel differently. Maybe.

There's a very tentative pause before Strange responds. "I suppose that all depends on who's blood is used in the ritual."

He doesn't want to sacrifice anybody else to save Arabella. She'd never forgive him for that. But if the ritual used some of his blood, if he could sacrifice some of his life to bring her back...well, he's already maimed himself to help save her. It wouldn't surprise Solas to hear that Strange would definitely consider it.

Solas watches Strange as if his gaze might pierce through the man at any moment. He was willing to go that far? So many in Thedas today felt the price of blood magic was too high to risk or engage with, but the way Strange agrees it's an option on the table so long as it only harms himself. That placed his morals above what he saw in Tevinter.

"That will depend entirely on what we find," he concedes. Solas didn't have some secret recipe for resurrection that he was only willing to pull out once they were journeying.

And Strange tries his hardest to match Solas's gaze, to give him a steely glare, showing just how damn determined he is in the first place.

Though his conceding is interesting--and a tad worrying. "What do you mean by that?" Strange remarks, with a frown. "You're a god, surely you already know what you need to find!"

The whole 'god' issue. He manages to stop himself from making a face at the word being applied to him. That was something he had tried very hard to not be considered and yet that was where remembrance had placed Fen'harel. So much had been lost in the placing of the Veil.

"How much stock do you put into the Dalish myths and legends?" he asks flatly. "Beyond what you believe out of desperation." If he simply thought him a god because the alternative was too unbearable then the man needed to reevaluate a lot about this moment.

Most of it is desperation. Still, he's trying to keep up that bluster, trying to keep up that smugness, trying to seem like of course he knows what he's doing, this isn't the last resort of a desperate man thrown together in the hopes it works.

"No matter how small, I've found that most legends have a kernel of truth. I don't know precisely what you are, Fen'harel, and that doesn't matter. What matters is you're powerful enough to help."

He hopes that he's powerful enough to help. Strange's greatest fear is that the Dalish myths and legends were just that: myths and legends, stories passed down to moralize and to entertain, with barely any truth to help him in his quest.

"A kernal is all it has," he replies with no small amount of bitterness. "I will guide you." He manages to bite his tongue and not add but my People had no need for spells of resurrection.

That life was so fragile in Thedas now was still a marvel to him. Short and cut down far more easily than anything he had experienced. A side effect of losing connection with the Fade no doubt. With the way some of the Evanuris had been, he had suspicions that tampering with resurrection was within one of their interests--perhaps Falon'din?

The problem would be finding it, but he needed to find his way back to his focus. While he has no love for the man who's misguided efforts have trapped him, forcing him to read and research old elven texts would be a perfect distraction while Solas figured out what pathways still existed.

Strange can't help but frown a little, downright annoyed by Solas's bitterness and the fact that the damn elf seems to be so stubborn and refuse to actually tell him things.

"If you're so bitter about the legends, then tell me the truth." Because hoo boy is it obvious that Solas is bitter about whatever myths and legends have sprung up around Fen'harel. That much is obvious to anyone with eyes. "Who are you really?"

we are playing fast and loose with canon and even faster and looser with lore

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