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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Tevinter? Well, that's certainly a pointed reference with very specific connotations in Strange's mind. "Did the elven Empire engage in some of Tevinter's practices that most Fereldens would consider...less than savory?"

Slavery, for one. Blood magic for another. There's a laundry list of things that Tevinter does that most people would look on a bit suspiciously. And if someone tried to stop something like slavery or blood magic, that might be an action worrying enough to put murder on the table in the first place.

"Yes, though part would be the difference in how magic was used. There were less limitations placed on it." The slavery however that was as unsavory then as it was now in Solas' opinion. Blood magic though was another matter entirely that Solas found less cut-and-dry.

Hence why his efforts had been placed against slavery. "By the time Tevinter stumbled upon Elvhenan, it was in a state of chaos and civil war." Which meant they only had to clean up and didn't learn much of what the empire was at its height though that was another story.

"Was Mythal's death the cause of the chaos or simply a symptom?" For all of Solas saying that they weren't gods, that doesn't change the fact that the elven pantheon must have been powerful enough to be thought of as a pantheon by future generations. And at least in Strange's eyes, the death of someone that powerful would be a logical point for chaos and civil war to spring from.

"A symptom of a spiral that had already begun and a great loss for the People," he says, a touch quieter. Mythal's loss was not one he had taken well at the time though now he knows the truth, that Mythal had managed to survive though it had taken thousands of years before she could manifest herself once more.

"Those underfoot can only remain there for so long before they desire more from their lives."

Strange can't help but frown. He pauses for a moment, partly to think of what to say next, partly because he needs to catch his breath. He's fine, he can still do this, but walking and talking at the same time is a bit harder than expected.

"Mythal realizes the rest of the pantheon are mistreating their subjects and confronts them on it. The rest of the pantheon decide to murder Mythal for it. You seal them away partly for her murder, partly for their treatment of the People. And while all this is happening, the elven empire is crumbling, falling to pieces through civil war while Tevinter waits in the wings to claim what's left."

It's all stated in a matter of fact tone, Strange trying to remember everything and put all the pieces in order. Though this does bring up another question... "But what happened between then and now? After all, your empire has been in shambles for ages." Rude, Strange.

So the man was intelligent. With what Strange wanted to do and how he had gone about it, Solas had been seriously doubting how sane the man appeared to be. The retelling is close enough that he nods in agreement. The details of what happened as the empire crumbled were irrelevant now, it had happened so long ago.

"You would have to ask the Tevinter Imperium, that began the enslavement of the People and stole what remained of their magic," he remarks dryly. "You awoke me from my sleep."

Because surprise, sealing away the rest of the pantheon and creating a barrier between physical and magical makes someone very tired. Several thousand years worth of tired.

His...sleep. Strange just pauses for a moment, blinking slightly as if that'll help him understand just what sleep has to do with anything. Oh, he's got plenty more questions about Solas and Mythal and how all of this is a very nice story but this doesn't change what Solas is bound to do, but that bit about his sleep is confusing so that's what Strange is going to focus on.

"You're speaking metaphorically, I assume?" He had to be. Because if not, then...by the Divine, that's a long time. Sleeping for thousands of years?! Modern elves couldn't even last a sliver of that time, how precisely could Solas do so? That sounded particularly godlike, no matter what the other man might say.

The man has summoned what he assumes to be a god and he's concerned with his sleep? Of course. Solas knows he shouldn't be surprised, from what he's see of humans and their priorities, and yet. He stares at Strange and shakes his head decisively. That had not been an error of words on his part.

"Have you heard of uthernera?" Instead of waiting for an answer, Solas continues, assuming that the answer is no. "It is a sleep the People enter when needed or they feel their time is finished. I entered it before the fall of Arlathan." For the former reason rather than the latter and guess who woke him up?

The answer is indeed no. Strange is about to say that he hasn't heard of it but then Solas continues talking and Strange shuts up. Though he can't help but frown a little at Solas's explanation. A sleep the People enter when needed...most people just call that sleep. Then again, most people don't sleep for thousands of years.

"Well then. Once we finish what I summoned you for, I'll be happy to release you from the spell and let you go back to your nap."

Strange is not at all ashamed that he woke Solas up from a nap. And why would he be? He woke Solas up for an important purpose, after all, the elf could deal with it until the ritual's finished.

Solas did not care either beyond that it had dragged him away from where he had intended to wake. No focus and only the clothing he had been dressed in to his name. He had never been a man to care much for material positions, but the set back to his own goals was what he found intolerable. If the man knew what he had delayed being set into motion, he might rejoice.

"How generous of you," he returns dryly. "I will keep you in my thoughts as I return to my slumber and dream."

Yoinked away from his silly Trespasser outfit, stuck in just those elf pajamas. Even then, compared to Strange who's clothes are a bit ragged and who's slowly becoming out of breath, Solas is still the person who people'll ask for help first.

Strange pauses for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He's halfway tempted to ask if they're there yet, but he's not going to do so, he can do this, he's got this, and so on.

"And I thought you would try to forget me entirely," he sasses back, through a few panting breaths. "I'm pleased to hear I already made the impression."

Would they man even make it as far as the ruins? Solas pauses with him if only to try to assess Strange's current physical condition. He'd give the man a fifty-fifty shot at getting that far and then Solas could find out if natural causes of death also worked to remove an unexpected binding spell.

"Enough to not be forgotten." Immediately, at least. How could he forget the first face he saw upon waking? "Next time knock before waking me."

"Hopefully there won't be a next time," Strange grumbles, in between trying to catch his breath.

Because sorry, Solas! You're kind of obnoxious and this conversation has gotten off to a terrible start and Strange just wants to bring his wife back, not deal with all this...this elven bullshit. It shouldn't be this hard in the first place! Just bring back his damn wife!

"You are so sure you can even do this magic." Because Solas sure as hell wasn't going to do it for him, if they found a way. Particularly when-- "What will be her reaction if you bring her back?"

Solas can't imagine anyone would take it well to have died from disease then be brought back in what may not be a healthy condition.

Guess who hasn't thought that far ahead? Hint, it's Strange. He pauses for a moment before the bluster takes back over and he looks over at Solas with a frown.

"She'll be happy, I suppose. At least we'll be together and she won't be dead. Very few people get that sort of a chance."

"Yes, alive with the man she married and painfully aware of how her life ended," he says dryly. What a wonderful way to be greeted back to the land of the living though he supposes all could not be as fortunate as Mythal, who managed to cheat death despite what all had thought so many thousands of years ago.

"It was just sickness," Strange mutters, as if trying to convince himself that no, this is fine, Arabella won't have any lingering trauma over dying and being brought back from the dead, haha why would someone think that.

"Besides, I don't want your opinion on my actions. I just require your help in actually doing it."

So thank you peanut gallery, but no thanks.

"Just sickness." He hopes Strange realizes how insane that sounds given that said 'sickness' killed his wife.

"My opinions come free with my guidance. Or I could sit here for all eternity and wait for you to grow too old to continue," he offers with a slight tilt of his head. He has far more years and patience.

Strange doubts that's an actual threat. Sitting for all eternity? Waiting for him? Please, the elf would probably find some way to stir Strange into action himself. Besides, though it would be wonderfully petty and he's halfway tempted to do so, he certainly doesn't have the patience to actually sit and wait and drive Solas mad that way.

So, Strange starts walking again...but then realizes he still has no clue where they're actually going because SOMEBODY is a bit of a secretive bastard.

"Let's go then. The sooner I accomplish this, the sooner I won't have to deal with you anymore."

He has no intentions of being anything but. A secretive bastard is all he knows how to be. He lets Strange walk for a moment, well aware the man has no idea where they need to hide before he starts down a path of his own making once more.

"I have similar thoughts," he remarks without even looking over at the other man. As if that is any surprise to Strange.

Unfortunately for them both, the trip to the entrance to what Solas hopes is an eluvian network is slightly longer than one day's travel. Solas isn't keen on further conversation and if allowed, would gladly continue walking in as much silence as Strange is capable of even as the sun starts going down. He won't be the first to suggest they stop for the night and set up camp.

And then a timeskip happens and it's getting close to dark. Strange's bitching is kept to a minimum, but there are a few moments where he has to pause and recatch his breath, making worrying coughing noises as he does so. Though really, now that it's getting dark, this seems like the perfect time to stop traveling, scavenge up something to eat, and just rest for the night.

"Some of us haven't been napping for a thousand years. We should make camp here." And if Solas doesn't want to make camp? Well tough luck, Strange isn't moving from this area. Granted, he doesn't know if it's the perfect place to make camp or not but it's a wooded area and he can hear a river flowing nearby. A few nugs adorably scamper a few feet away--at least in Strange's mind, they're soon going to be adorable dinner. Food, water, shelter, why not stop here for the night?

The only thing that gets him to pause is Strange's sudden stopping. He scowls at the loss of progress, but he has a feeling the other man would fall sooner if he didn't take a break. So be it. This isn't Solas' first time staying out in the wilderness and he starts making meagre preparations for camp. At least, the parts he cares about which center primarily around a few glyphs on the perimeter of camp to act as magical guard against any hostile creatures and warnings.

"You do only need to rest for one night, correct?" What with the self-inflicted pain and all.

"Correct," Strange responds, with a nod. At least, he hopes he only needs to rest for one night. He honestly doesn't know how long he'll need to rest until he's back at full health...or if he'll even be able to return to full health to begin with. After all, this isn't the first time he drew some rot from Arabella's corpse.

He stretches slightly before looking things over. Magic can take care of the fire, but dinner...that might be a challenge.

"I wonder," he teases, "can the great and powerful Dread Wolf lower himself to a meal of braised nug for the evening?"

Because Strange is straight up gonna magically murder that sucker and eat it.

"If I were hungry," he responds tersely. Guess who's body doesn't need as much sustenance upon waking from a long nap where he drew it all from the Fade? Either way, he's lived on far, far worse than braised nug when the time called for it. There's something else he's far more interested in.

"Are you going hunting?" Because the image of Strange chasing down a nug with his magic is a sight Solas would enjoy seeing.

"Some of us have to eat," Strange responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. So yes, he is going hunting. It'll be a goddamn trainwreck until it isn't but hey, Solas would probably appreciate the fifteen or so minutes of Strange failing before some poor nug gets the magical equivalent of a rock to the head.

"I assume you're coming along?"

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