Holy fools (Leliana)

[iphigenie]

The entire world outside of Iphigénie's mind seemed to vanish as she stopped and listened to the Chant of Light. She had heard it sung throughout the Grand Cathedral countless times, but each time she reacted like she did the first: she closed her eyes momentarily, and she ignored every sound except for the chorus of voices reciting the words of Andraste.

"...Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.
I shall endure.
What you have created, no one can tear asunder..."

The Canticle of Trials? Iphigénie smiled wryly at the irony of the timing: what an excellent lesson these verses would be for some of the rowdier affirmed children, were they ever to try to listen or learn for once instead of running around with reckless abandon. The Grand Cathedral was a place of worship and sanctuary, not a zoo—it was a place of civilization, of culture. Iphigénie could only hope that they would soon realize their folly. The sooner, the better, and then she would no longer have a swarm following her, trying to catch a glimpse of the ridiculous treasures they thought she had access to. Iphigénie's face contorted briefly in annoyance before she silently scolded herself and pushed away the newly born stress so she could once again relax.

Breathe.

For a brief moment she meditated on the verses, emotion washing over her as she felt compelled to every single scroll and book she carried in her frail arms, forget about everything and listen for hours on end. Sadly, reality always came knocking after a few minutes spent appreciating the voices and the words, and Iphigénie was reminded of the great number of tasks to complete by the end of the day; contemplation would have to wait day. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps another day within those that remained of the two weeks it would take for the entire chant to be sung.

Iphigénie drew in a sharp breath and pivoted on the spot to resume her business, but not without one last glance at the chanting clergymen. She began the hasty retreat, her papers rustling loudly as she jostled them and her long, clean robes billowing as she took strides much longer than her usual, everyday steps. Time was precious, and, while she believed that every Andrastian ought to make the time to enjoy the Chant out of their appreciation for the Maker's bride, Iphigénie was losing too much of the precious time she needed to continue the day's work. There were still the newly copied volumes to register and put away, and papers to deliver to the impatient Elder; on top of her Cleric duties there were other duties, such as partaking in the distribution of alms with the initiates or assisting with those in training like she promised. Life in Val Royeaux was never boring, not even for a sister of the Chantry—but in a far different way.

"Oh, oh! Ârretez! Stop it!” she hissed at the pair of overeager young lay-sisters who had collided with her on their way to Maker knew where, a place that was apparently so important that they couldn't even bother to acknowledge anyone else in this enormous, cavernous cathedral. Quite a few of Iphigénie's papers went flying, and that had about made her crack. "No, just forget about it," was the irritated, testy response to Marie and what's-her-name's attempt to help collect them. "And don't just run around, I'm positive you've got things you're supposed to be doing instead of this...this lolly-gagging."

With a tut-tutting and without another word, Iphigénie shuffled around, bending to snatch parchment and parchment up from the floor. She frowned at the thick book that had landed with its open pages face-down, gathering it with the rest and struggling to smooth out its pages before they could be bent this way and that. “These are my trials,” she grumbled as she fell into a crawl right before everything once again fell from her arms in an avalanche.

[Leliana]

Leliana had been trying to find time to go to the Chantry, but with everything going on she found it a tad hard. But decided to go for it, since as far as she knew. No one there wanted her dead, she kept her black cloak over her. The hood over her face, as she decided to visit Sister Charpentier. It had been a while since she had been there to visit. But as she went in, she heard her talking to some people. And opened up the door, seeing a bunch of stuff on the floor. The people in there, just about running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. And began to wonder what this was all about, but she listened silently.

Soon she shut the door and noticed that everything grew still, she could tell at least one looked up at her. She made herself look mysterious, not really something she wanted to do but it was out of habit really. No one could see her face, or even tell that she was a woman. Just some "stranger" who had her hand on her sword, well until she put her hand down. Not wanting people to get worried that she would attack, and sighed some. And began to say what she did, pretty much her way of telling the dear sister who she is without saying her name.

"There was no word
For heaven or for earth, for sea or sky.
All that existed was silence.
Then the Voice of the Maker rang out,
The first Word,
And His Word became all that might be:
Dream and idea, hope and fear,
Endless possibilities.
And from it made his firstborn.
And he said to them:
In My image I forge you,
To you I give dominion
Over all that exists.
By your will
May all things be done.

Then in the center of heaven
He called forth
A city with towers of gold,
streets with music for cobblestones,
And banners which flew without wind.
There, He dwelled, waiting
To see the wonders
His children would create.

The children of the Maker gathered
Before his golden throne
And sang hymns of praise unending.
But their songs
Were the songs of the cobblestones.
They shone with the golden light
Reflected from the Maker's throne.
They held forth the banners
That flew on their own.

And the Voice of the Maker shook the Fade
Saying: In My image I have wrought
My firstborn. You have been given dominion
Over all that exists. By your will
All things are done.
Yet you do nothing.
The realm I have given you
Is formless, ever-changing.

And He knew he had wrought amiss.
So the Maker turned from his firstborn
And took from the Fade
A measure of its living flesh
And placed it apart from the Spirits, and spoke to it, saying:
Here, I decree
Opposition in all things:
For earth, sky
For winter, summer
For darkness, Light.
By My Will alone is Balance sundered
And the world given new life.

And no longer was it formless, ever-changing,
But held fast, immutable,
With Words for heaven and for earth, sea and sky.
At last did the Maker
From the living world
Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth,
With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear,
Endless possibilities.

Then the Maker said:
To you, my second-born, I grant this gift:
In your heart shall burn
An unquenchable flame
All-consuming, and never satisfied.
From the Fade I crafted you,
And to the Fade you shall return
Each night in dreams
That you may always remember me.

And then the Maker sealed the gates
Of the Golden City
And there, He dwelled, waiting
To see the wonders
His children would create.

-Threnodies 5:1-5:8"

[iphigenie]

Iphigénie let out a noise of frustration as she meticulously picked each item up from the floor and rested it carefully against the others she cradled against her chest. She paused to blow a few loose blonde hairs out of her face, but, before she could hunch over to reach for another piece of vellum adorned with crowded notes and hastily drawn sketches, she heard something strange. There was no other sound aside from the rustling of the papers and the euphonious sound of the chorus: there were no giggles or chortles from the gossiping, busybody initiates weaving in and out of the rooms. There was no murmur of conversation from anyone else within the vicinity. It was as if the world really had stopped, and Iphigénie had no idea why.

Suddenly self-conscious, she glanced up from her diminishing mess and around the room. In a matter of seconds, it became evident that she hadn't done anything to draw this attention, and she could thank the Maker for that.

Apparently, it was too soon for that.

Her blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as they spied the cloaked figure that stood out like a sore thumb. Those judgmental eyes followed the movements, watching and waiting—for what, Iphigénie was not sure, but everything about this individual was unnerving. He or she wasn't like any of the usual citizens who frequented the cathedral, and that alone set off alarm bells in her mind. The muscles in her body tensed as she braced herself for an unavoidable confrontation of sorts, with her asking what this disturbing person wanted and demanding he or she leave before they upset everyone. With all the tension in Val Royeaux, the slightest thing or person out of place could push many a person off the edge.

The feminine voice startled her, and the hostility in Iphigénie's eyes was replaced by completely shock and bewilderment. It wasn't only the musical voice that interrupted her increasingly suspicious thoughts, but the familiarity that prodded her subconscious and she struggled to match it to a face. Iphigénie squinted, lips pursing tightly as she recognized the lines from the Andrastian scripture she evidently didn't expect from someone who dressed like that. What was most astonishing, however, was that the voice continued on for much longer than she'd expect from a typical miscreant...or citizen, she supposed. She quietly gathered up the last of her books and papers and rose to meet the guest, a cynical half-smile plastered on her lips. "That was impressive. It certainly isn't everyday that I meet a stranger who can recite that much by heart."

She raised an eyebrow quizzically. Well-versed in the Chant, and that voice. Well, this was an interesting development. "But a stranger you are not," she added quietly. She threw a furtive glance over her shoulder, and then beckoned for her to follow. "Come, it is best to move elsewhere. I must say you look rather unsettling. Oui, and I must unload these before I make a clumsy fool of myself again.

"I must say this is quite unexpected," Iphigénie continued at an almost-whisper. “What is with all of…this?” she asked, motioning to the intimidating cloak.

[Leliana]

She could see the surprise, and could even tell she was trying like hell to figure out who she was. But hearing what the dear sister said, she nodded some and walked up to her. Resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. Making sure not to look threating or what not, and then heard what she asked. Since she felt safe here, she pushed down her hood enough for her to see her face. Looking at Sister Charpentier, she helped her with what she had in her arms. Unsure of how to explain what was going on, sighing softly she looked down for a moment, wondering and thinking of how to word things. But then smiled at her.

"Can't be to careful with what is going on in our world, the maker has kept me safe sister. Though some people wish me dead, I guess because of who I side with. But I believe as long as I believe fully in the maker, as much as you do. That the impossible can happen, and that I'm very happy that he is with me. But what has been happening here? You seem rather angry at whom ever you were speaking with?"

Curious as to what was going on, she didn't know if any spies had made it here. She didn't trust many people, only a handful and that was starting to dry up as well. She covered up her mouth as she yawned, she hadn't been able to really rest in a few days. She was beyond tired right now, but couldn't do anything about it, not now and probably not ever.

[iphigenie]

Relief surged through Iphigénie as the hood was pulled back ever so slightly and her suspicions about her guest with the familiar voice were confirmed. She was indeed not suffering from delusions, hallucinations, or wishful thinking. The relief brought from the confirmation, however, was only short-lived; the brief happiness at seeing Leliana melted away immediately, and concern took its place. Iphigénie couldn't even imagine the things that she got herself into, this woman so apparently adored by Her Most Holy, but the cleric would not allow her thoughts to wander to speculation about her activities. No, no, Iphigénie would be far better off avoiding those thoughts altogether for as long as she could.

Her expression softened as Leliana helped with her burden, and she pulled her lips into a genuine smile to silently express her thanks. "He is always with His most faithful, and for that I am most grateful," she said quietly, eyes lighting up as she clung to the hope that the Maker wasn't completely absent—alas and alack, the conservative in her was cringed a little at the idea that strayed from her strict teaching. Iphigénie simply could not ignore her own hopeful feelings, though, especially not when the dangers were so real and so close. Worry’s ice cold fingers curled tightly around her heart at the sobering realization.

"Dead?" she whispered, scandalized by the thought. "Is it truly wise to get so involved in the chaos that your life is at stake? Forgive me, I do not wish to criticize. I am simply worried. Everything we stand for is at stake, yet the people of the world seem to care nothing about the fact that they are forsaking their faith. I confess I don't know if I should approve or not, but it is not my place to comment. I apologize. You must be taxed enough." Iphigénie sighed, but was grateful for the change of topic, lest she unintentionally offend one of the few she might endeavor to call "friend." "Oh, it is nothing. Many of the younger lay-sisters do not take their duties or faith seriously. They are here to do the Maker's work, and what do they do? Run around, gossip, and put on airs. It is infuriating, the disrespect they show in the very heart of the Chantry. They are not like you and me. They do not seem to see the importance of preserving the faith."

It saddened her to see her younger contemporaries like this. They did not see their lives in the Chantry the same way that Iphigénie did; they didn't have the same experiences, either. She could name two who had been forced into the Chantry and their families' behest, and were bitter and without the same appreciation for Andraste's teachings. "Speaking of which, the unrest in Orlais is even more detrimental for us all now. I am afraid of what this apparent war will bring for us.”

[Leliana]

She nodded some and smiled at her, the sister was right. But she had a job to do, she was asked to do it by someone with enough power of her own. But hearing about the other sisters, angered her. Looking up she saw a few of them just talking and sighed, thinking for a moment. She didn't know what to say to the good sister, looking at her kindly she placed her hand on her shoulder.

"Don't give up Sister, they will need you now more then ever. If anyone can get them to do there job it's you, we have been through a lot and I know you can do it. As for what I'm doing, I agree I shouldn't be doing it. But I was asked to get Hawke, I was begged upon. And the maker has always taught us to help when ever we can, and so by the maker the work will be done. And if need be then I will talk to them, no one disrespects you"

Looking down she shook her head, knowing she shouldn't have said that. But it angered her a lot, that they were fooling around. If they were not going to do the makers work, why in the name of the maker would they do it? just to have a place to stay perhaps? She should teach them the melody that she knew. Seeing some of the girls gossip she couldn't handle it any more and sang to them.

"Hahren na melana sahlin
Emma ir abelas
Souver'inan isala hamin
Vhenan him dor'felas
In uthenera na revas

Vir sulahn'nehn
Vir dirthera
Vir samahl la numin
Vir lath sa'vunin.."

The girls actually stopped talking and looked at her, putting her hood down.

[iphigenie]

A sigh escaped her as she glanced down at the comforting hand resting on her shoulder. It was meant to be a warm, reassuring gesture in its very nature; while Iphigénie wanted to be reassured, wanted her worries to disappear with a dismissive wave of the hand, they did not. She could not let go, let her own rationality and judgment be clouded by foolish and unrealistic hopes. The world was plagued by war, with nightmares coming to life and somehow chaos was found everywhere. Not everything could turn out happily and perfectly, and Iphigénie could not even be consoled by her belief in the Maker's greater plan. Their cause was suffering because of this trial of His, and rebellion and dereliction were more crippling than before. Now it was all spreading like a cancer, finally reaching those within her grasp, like Leliana.

Iphigénie would pray day and night for her safety and success, but she would have to rely on the woman's particular skills. Her confidence in her dear friend was faltering, though, if only out of fear for the worst. She doubted anyone could escape the worse if it came for him or her.

"I...I do not know. I should try, I really should. They aren't a lost cause, not yet." Her voice trailed off, ending on a quiet and sorrowful note. "But I fear it will not be so simple. It seems that the people are closing their hearts against Him. It is not just these sisters I worry about, but mankind. Minds are tainted by heresy, and these wars will only quicken the process ad plant more seeds of doubt. I fear we will lose.” Iphigénie broke eye contact, sad yet vehemently determined blue eyes staring behind Leliana. “And this Hawke, this Champion of Kirkwall. It is said that this Hawke disappeared. I do not want your efforts to go to waste. It is far too great of a risk for it all to be done in vain.”

For a moment, worry’s grip on her heart loosened as she filled with warmth. “Oh, Leliana. Thank you, but...” But what? Iphigénie was at a loss for words. She had no idea how her friend would go about solving this little problem. She didn’t want her to bother on her behalf, but Iphigénie had a feeling that words could not deter her. Dedication was in her nature.

Her forehead crinkled and her eyebrows raised as Leliana began to sing with that voice, in words she could not decipher. The timbre was soft, pleasing to the ear, and it pulled at her heartstrings. The awed expression on her face was broken by a small smirk at the startled initiates. Their astonishment intensified when Leliana finally lost the mysterious hood, and it made Iphigénie swell with maddening superiority. “Lovely. Wasn’t that lovely, Sisters?” she called, but turned to her companion and asked in a much quieter voice, “Do you feel…safe here? I hope you didn’t feel obligated to reveal yourself, especially not on their account.”

[Leliana]

Leliana listened to her and smiled some, she removed her cloak. And sighed a bit, shaking her head a bit. "I feel fine Sister, if I didn't I never would have come here. I just need a place of peace for a few hours, been on the road for a very long time. Find it hard to trust anyone, but we all have to sacrifice things. To help our world, your doing the makers work Sister Iphigenie. Everyone here is, I just hope those who joined us just to do something stupid. Then the maker will not be to happy with his children, but right now much is going on." Looking down for a moment, she placed her hands on the seat. Sitting down she crossed one leg over the other, she had to just relax. It was almost hard to, when it came down to much she had no idea how this journey would come by. "And part of me just needs to talk to you, talk to a friend."

When it came down to everything, she needed to do a lot of praying lately. Pray for strength, for her loved ones. Everything about her life she had to pray about, sometimes she wondered what the hell the maker wanted her to do. She had a feeling she had no business doing what she did, but right now everything was just so simple right now. Running her fingers in her hair, closing her eyes for a moment. She didn't know nor care what was to happen to her. She just wanted to find Hawke and return to the life she had, a simple life. That is if she would survive what had happened any way, she had a feeling she would be ok.