Imprints in Stone [AU]

[Tethras Clan]

"I rather suspect you can. You've survived a great deal in your life- and I only know the shallows of it I'm sure. You are strong, Silver Cindy of the Scale. And you are not alone. Do you remember who Liz is now? Or Garrett?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

She shakes her head, swallowing hard. "I can't-- I can't do this. I can't. He's-- Gold was-- he was the Righteous Heir of Glaley. He kidnapped my family. I lost everything due to him, I-- I hate him."

She shudders, then, as the bright light overtakes her, leaving behind another pin: this one a pair of masks, one silver, one gold. 

[Tethras Clan]

Zevran blows out a sharp breath as he goes over to pick up the pin. I must remember that they can- will- get therapy after this is done. Delving is not the end of treatment, it is just... what did Varric call it? Ah, yes- high explosives used to get past a bit of particularly stubborn stone. Shaking his head, he slips back to return the others, pin held out mutely before him.

[Isabela]

Isabela nods. "Good. Right then. Where to next? ###### -- I mean, Liz, again?"

[Tethras Clan]

"I would assume so, yes," Zevran says, looking around. "Another trip through the shadows ladies?" He winces at the cold glare from Varric. "Right. Sorry. Let's be off then."

[GamesMaster]

They enter the shadows, taking the obsidian road as they travel. There's no end in sight for a long time; it seems the dark will go on forever. Finally, just as they're beginning to really worry, a bright light slams down around them. 

They are standing, in their normal skins, in a room. The room has white walls. The floor is bright white, clean. There is light aggressively reflected at them from every corner of the room. There is no door. The place smells of bleach, aggressively assaulting their noses. 

(It's good that Helene isn't here. This place would have been painful to them.)

In the very center of the room stands a four-post bed with bright white sheets and pale wood that goes all the way to the floor, leaving no space beneath. Beside the bed sits a figure: the man from the drawing room, Harrod Blacquin. In the bed lies Coquette Blacquin: thin, pale, sweating, with deep bags under her eyes. Harrod is dabbing with a damp cloth at her forehead, murmuring soothing words to her, clearly concerned as he holds her hand.

[Varric]

"Can you bring us with you to... Dark Truth?" Varric asks calmly, eyes flitting about warily. Very little shadow, probably not valid for the aggressive Scale avatar to attack but it could cheat (is their mindscape, partially). 

[Tethras Clan]

"I... will try," Zevran murmurs, feeling more than a little uncomfortable in this location.

[GamesMaster]

Funny thing about Dark Truth -- it requires shadow to pull over him. With lights coming from all directions, they don't even have shadows beneath them. He reaches and finds nothing. 

[Tethras Clan]

"Ah..."

[Varric]

"Alright, let's try another method then," Varric murmurs. Here's to hoping this works in some form of useful fashion. With only a few deft movements, Varric downs an infusion of Detect Thoughts and focus on Cindy and Harrod.

[GamesMaster]

Weirdly enough, he gets nothing from either of them. It's as if they're not real. As if they're just an illusion in front of him, the picture of a grieved father and a sick girl.

But there's someone else in the room, it seems. Someone whose voice he recognizes: someone who took away the doors, who stabbed his fiancee. 

This is what she wants to believe? It makes me sick. Disgusting. Weakness. If it keeps her occupied, fine, so long as she leaves me to control the body. I will have justice or nothing, no comforting lies.

[Varric]

Lovely. Varric has to take a few seconds to fight back his emotions so he can think clearly. Alright. Alright. Think. I wonder if... Cupping his hands, he can see that there's shadow but not as much as there should be despite the lack of direct light... anywhere. "Zevran, can you create darkness?"

[Tethras Clan]

"Sorry? Oh, you mean..." He coughs, suddenly very ware that his Hat has stopped working. No, but... well, I can't shadow-walk normally either. So... Taking a deep breath- and nervously tapping on his pierced ear, he tries to will the light to dim and shadows to pool.

[GamesMaster]

It doesn't take much -- the light dims, just a little, nearby, and he grabs the velvet shadow and yanks it over the whole group.

Inside...

The room is still bright, appallingly so, but it's dimmed by the shadow over their eyes, as though they're standing in shade watching. The lovely four-poster is now a rickety bed, and the girl isn't ill... she's tied to the bed, iron chains at the wrist and ankle, a wooden bar in her mouth to stop her biting her tongue. Her hair is a mess, her eyes are panicked, and she's panting and sweating from previous exertion which has given way to a stunned silence rather than from illness.

They don't see Harrod, but they hear voices, from just outside the room:
"She was- well, very, ah, aggressive Uncooperative, I mean. High-strung? Yes, high--"
"Is she sedated?"

That last voice is Harrod's, but there's no warmth in it now, all business, a man used to dealing with his subordinates with a firm hand.

"Yeeesss, Your Honor?"
"Good. You'll be paid each month. Make her vanish."