dejah_thoris | [Milliways] White Upon White

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[Milliways] White Upon White

He'd only left an hour ago. Darkness had fallen and the storm outside was screaming and tearing at the building. It was lunacy to go out in this weather. But he was out there, and in only the clothes he'd put on this morning. He and Edgar both.

They'd die out there, surely, if they didn't get a move on.

Woola whined at her, picking up on the desperation she felt crawling down her spine. She'd put on her winter coat and boots, and taken the goggles bar had given her. Ellen and Ysalwen were already waiting for her at the backdoor. She handed each of them one of the electric lanterns Bar had provided.

"Are we ready? Do we need anything else?"

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"Ysa!" Dejah has to raise her voice to be heard. "Can you take point? I have to focus on the amulet he's wearing, and that's going to be difficult to do while breaking the path! Let's head for the stables and we can regroup there if we need to!"

"I can!"

Ysalwen raises her own voice to be audible over the scream of the wind, and Liranan echoes her with a loud two barks.

(He is much better at being loud.)

"Liranan, go."

The mabari doesn't take off, but he maintains his position in front of Ysalwen, sniffing occasionally at the snow and then sneezing when it gets in his nose.

Ysalwen follows gamely behind, occasionally re-casting her scrying spell and waiting to see if guidance from Dejah and the amulet help her narrow her own perceptions.

It would be nice.

"Is this kind of weather common?" Ellen wonders aloud. "I mean- I know it was in Curtis' world, but-"

She waves a hand vaguely, not that it's likely to be all that visible through the horrible white mess in the air.

"-here, or... anywhere else, really?"

"I wouldn't say common," Dejah shouts. "But winter storms like this happen from time to time on Earth." Jasoom is a miraculous place when it comes to meteorological phenomenon. "Andrew called it a 'blizzard'."

Woola barks, louder this time, and muscles through a snow drift to join his friend Liranan in leading the way. It'd be a comical sight if anyone could see the sheer volume of snow he was displacing.

"We're heading in the right direction, I think!"

"It happens in Ferelden with some frequency. We get bad winters."

Ysalwen doesn't exactly mean to shout that, but it's easier.

"It feels that way to me, too. From what I can tell. More left?"

Liranan whuffs, pushing a little more in that direction. Not walking into large stones is probably good, just now!

"Ugh. At least you can see which way to run if the storms blow in and they're acidic, back home."

Silently, she's thankful that the Reds had enough sense to equip their Crimson Dragoons with armor capable of keeping them warm enough to fight in the Alaskan cold.

"We get sand storms on Barsoom. Zero visibility, but sand etches flesh. Best you can do is hunker down and ride them out!"

She course corrects with their lead and refocuses on her wrist cuff. She can feel a pull that gets stronger as they change directions.

"Yes! Better!" She lifted the lantern she was carrying but it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them. "Ellen, can you see any better with your sensors?"

"I've got some orange blurring," Ellen says after a moment's hesitation. "A little hard to make out, but-"

She points as best she can in the direction of the more notable scent trail.

"It looks like it's getting stronger."

Liranan takes easily to this new trail, and Ysalwen follows gamely behind.

"Oh, for the -- "

The endlessly whirling snow gets in the way again, and Ysalwen exhales heavily.

"Will trying to settle this wind down a bit -- at least where we are -- help anything?"

"Yes! If you can do it, please!"

"Well, we'll find out."

It's not quite a simple thing, taking a spell you can perform blindfolded and inverting it.

But if she casts the spell and then holds it, taking the local winds and making them hers -- or the Fade's' -- and then pulling in an echoed dream of stillness --

Hmm.

At least the trail may not get so cold so quickly, just now. And for however long she can hold this effect.

"Okay," calls Ellen, her voice suddenly oddly louder in the stiller air. "I've got a better line on the trail. That helped. Thank you."

She's suddenly glad she didn't bring Dogmeat for this. He's helpful as a tracker, but this weather would only make the heeler a liability, even with Ysalwen's help.

"Oh thank Issus," Dejah breathes. "The wind cuts right through me."

Even all bundled up like this, she's colder than she's ever been in her life. She's trying to ignore the part of her mind that envisions the worst possible outcomes. It's not helpful.

There's a straight line up ahead. It's the fences that mark the path down to the stables.

"Curtis!" She can't help it. She has to do something. Shouting is probably no good, but it makes her feel better. "Edgar! Call out if you can hear us!"

Liranan howls, high and wild and hair-raising.

Maybe he is taking a page from Dejah's book.

"Liranan! They don't know you. You'll make them think wolves are hunting them. Stop it!"

It seems like a valid concern, except -- maybe their world doesn't have wolves?

Ellen is silently glad that she didn't bring Dogmeat with her.

Besides, she's busy frantically scanning for the brightest, strongest streak of orange she can possibly find.

There's a vertical line of darker shadow rising from the white out. Dejah swings her lantern toward it. It resolves into the edge of the barn that houses the stables.

Dejah points.

"Let's check in there. Maybe we're worried over nothing and they're just -- let's just check it. To be sure.

Maybe they're too busy murdering one another to hear her shouting?

"It's possible," Ysalwen allows, blinking her eyes heavily as she recasts her spell to still the winds.

There's no sense in making it harder to get inside the stables, honestly.

Take comfort, Dejah, Liranan would smell blood if there was any!

Less so strangling, but. Well.

"Trail heads in that way," Ellen reports. "Doesn't look as fresh as I'd like, but..."

It's better than trailing them by asking nonexistent locals if they've seen two people. It's better than nothing.

Dejah strides ahead, unaccustomed to making her way through knee deep snow and fighting for every step. Her breath fogs in the air and a rime of ice is beginning to form on the scarf over her mouth.

"Woola?" The calot course corrects so he can break trail for her.

The barn is dark, and there are no voices, only the soft breathing of the residents. "Curtis?" Nothing.

They're not here.

"Huh."

Ysalwen exhales sharply, and Liranan starts sniffing around the barn, checking for --

Well.

Checking to see how stale any sign might be. If there is a sign.

"Why would they leave? With a blizzard raging, what -- do you know what might drive them out of here and back into it, Dejah? Either separately or together?"

Dejah's expression is somewhere between stricken and wooden. Because they are both fools, obviously.

"They were not together. Edgar was upset and fled the bar before he knew there was a storm coming. Curtis went after him when he heard it was blowing in." She dips her head, one hand over her eyes. Woola leans heavily against her side.

When she speaks, there is a pained heaviness to her voice. She hates being powerless to help. "There's history between them. I do not believe either one of them is thinking clearly."

"Andraste's ass!"

Ysalwen exhales.

"Well, I suppose that leaves it to us to do the clear thinking. So."

A crackling noise sounds from the walkie-talkie.

"Team A, this is Mission Control," comes Andrew's voice through the faint static. "What's your status?"

Ellen fumbles for the radio. "We're at the stables," she reports. "We got a trail, but they're not here."

"Tell him we're heading north from here. Along the path that follows the lake."

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