[ she's had enough of waking up in decidedly unusual and uncomfortable circumstances to last her a lifetime, even if she can count the actual number of instances on one hand. it's still more than she needs. the novelty of waking, this time, with something jammed down her throat, however, is one that she did not realise she ever wanted to experience until right now.

all around her, metal. that's what she feels beneath her bare hands and knees when she topples out, the sting of impact fizzling through her bones as a slight grimace passes over her face. she's had worse, she comforts herself with that, even though the phantom sensation in her throat remains all the same. her marked hand glows, briefly, as she lifts it to rub lightly at the skin of her neck. blink and you'll miss it. her rapidly clearing vision tells her that she is inside... something. the liquid still on her skin feels immensely unpleasant. light filters down from above, and she scrambles to her feet, inelegantly and slowly, towards it. the glare of sunlight blinds her once more when she's out, but the warmth of it is strangely soothing, even if heavy humidity follows quickly after it. all around her is a place she doesn't recognise, one she can barely have imagined, even by combining together images of all the places she'd known in thedas. ]

Maker. [ oaths are always of use, even when the religion itself glazes somewhat over you. her voice is hoarse and low. ] Where am I? [ and after a cursory glance down at herself, more indignant than anything else, alarmed by the injustice of it all, ] And where are my clothes?

[ by which measure, if anyone has seen her emerge from the ship, they will promptly see her disappear back down to try and find some way to cover herself up more effectively, now that her body is sort of in agreement with her mind, once more. at the very least, her body's complaints aren't being listened to, no matter how ungainly her movements. whether she is found within the ship once more or as she is making her way gingerly into the jungle, she has found herself a jumpsuit, which is uncomfortable and peculiar and sticks too close to her skin, but it's better than being practically naked. ]

[ once trevelyan has felt that she can do all she can at the camp site (heal small wounds, tend to fires and provide cooling breezes during the worst of the daytime heat), her curiosity and frustration get the better of her. her magic feels stilted, limited by something that she can't put her finger on. the anchor feels almost as though it has disappeared from her hand; even the fade is far from here. the most she can tell so far is that she is very, very far from home. from all of thedas, from poor, tattered skyhold. she'd not even had time to take stock of the place in its entirety before waking up here. despite the obvious distance, however, she wants nothing more than to find herself a staff.

the likelihood of finding one on the ruins of the ship — very unlike any ships she has ever travelled upon in thedas, for sure — seem very low to her, but she has nothing to lose. others have related that they've found or else been given belongings from their many homes before, and the possibility that she might find something of use in this ship piques her. at the very least, something to swing about and hit things with. she misses her staff, at least, for that quality of it.

after conjuring up a small flame to light her way, the insides of the ship seem much gloomier and far more bare than they did when she first awoke in it. the sun doesn't quite reach inside the same way, positioned elsewhere in the sky this time. she hopes she won't get lost, and tells herself firmly not to get carried away with her explorations. the ship is absurdly enormous; she would rather face the biting insects and heat of the jungle than be swallowed by the bowels of this beast. after almost an hour's fruitless picking through battered lockers, fighting her way inside doors that are crumpled and unwilling to cooperate with her, a yelp of pleased surprise echoes around what she believes to be the empty ship. ]

Oh, yes! [ it is a keeper staff, ice based,far lowlier than anything that she is used to wielding now, but beggars cannot be choosers, and trevelyan is overjoyed. an incredulous laugh passes her lips. ] Whoever is smiling down on me, be it luck, fate or Andraste herself, thank you.