faderift | A Maker's Renaissance [open]

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A Maker's Renaissance [open]

WHO: Nari and all you glorious crafty types out there
WHAT: Construction work at Skyhold! (slash catch-all for Nari)
WHEN: Justinian/Solace and heading into August
WHERE: The main keep/undercroft
NOTES: Hey y'all I missed you, let's build some things!

It had been an odd few months. Even though Sina had gotten better, Nahariel's spirit had settled tired into the walls, keeping inside them as if something terrible might happen if she left. So she haunted the keep, became as much of a fixture in the undercroft as the workbenches she toiled away on. There was always work to be done. Bows to carve both long and short, splintered shields to be repaired or crafted anew, hafts and hilts to shape, the wood worked lovingly until it was like silk to the touch. Night would find her the same way, quietly whittling the scraps from the day into feathers, leaves, halla, a candle flickering beside her until even the light of the mountains dimmed.

And then she would rest and begin again.

It was on one of the walks to and from the tent she shared with her clansister that the bareness of the Skyhold banisters finally struck her--followed quickly by an idea. For the first time in months, she exited the hall with purpose beyond rest.

--

Nari wants to really spruce up the hall!

Any characters with known crafting skills will be approached by a small-framed brown elf looking for collaborators to help carve the balustrades with techniques and imagery from their culture...and to get some new banners up (for those who can sew), some ornamental cultural weapons from smiths, and pretty much any other ideas that anyone might have.

Any secret crafters are welcome to notice the flurry of activity and out themselves spectacularly... and anyone who wants to learn a skill or craft is welcome to express interest.

Some women just want to watch the world build. :)

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Vasran is handy enough with a needle to assist with the banners. However, even the best of crafters -- and Vasran could not even be counted among those -- slip up sometimes. The third time she pricks her finger with the end of the needle, it's hard enough to draw blood.

"Aah! Andraste's tits." She brings the finger to her lips, to try and stop the bleeding. Afterwards, she lets out a huff, shakes her head. "I've been burned by fire, and shocked within an inch of consciousness, and somehow this is more irritating. I mean, it's only a needle."

Leaning back from her perch on the lowest step to peer over at Vasran--tiny curls of wood falling from her knees as she did so--Nahariel offered a grin.

"Oh, absolutely," she said. "Enough to make you wince for hours, not enough to send you to rest in the first aid tents." The elf stretched, walked over to observe the small wound--and the banner that indirectly caused it. "Unexpected splinter under the nail tops my list, and I've got a scar on my thigh from burying an inch of slipped carving knife in it."

"I'll need to be careful casting with this hand, later."

She winced at the mention of the splinter in particular. "It's not quite the same, but I started shaving my head because I couldn't stand the scent of burning hair. One too many practice spells one awry."

The banner depicted the Inquisition symbol in golden thread — or would, once completed. As of now, it was nearly a third of the way done.

Nari wrinkled her nose at the mention of burning hair--funny how once it was scented even the mention of it could always call the smell to the mind. "Occupational hazards, all," she replied, "I'm honestly surprised more mages don't do it." The hunter dropped to an easy cross-legged seat beside the other elf. "I also don't understand the billowy robes--same reason."

She peered at the stitching--it was passing lovely work, and more than made up for any little imperfections with its honesty. Exactly what she had wanted--the Inquisition making things for the Inquisition. "Do you have everything you'll need? I'm going to check in with the Quartermaster later."

"I never minded the robes, so much. Not while I was still in the Circle. Out in the wilderness — they do make it difficult to run." Her eyes flicked to the other elf's tattoos. "Though I suppose you would know about that."

At the question about supplies, she frowned slightly in thought. "I believe so... perhaps a thimble."

Nari's brows quirked upwards, changing the lines of her vallaslin slightly. "About robes?" she laughed, more a huff of air than anything else. "Nothing. About running... well. More."

A nod at the request. "Thimble. Makes sense." Then after a slight pause, she frowned thoughtfully. "I could carve you something small to guard your finger until then, so you don't end up with any further patterns on it?"

"Could you really carve something that small?" Vasran sounded a combination of skeptical and impressed.

Nahariel grinned, and reached over to the pile of excess wood that had been forming over the day for a thumb sized chunk, holding it up to her pointer finger for a moment--at a glance she'd judged the other elf to have a comparable hand size--and began whittling away.

The space within came first, aided by a small curved chisel. "Ever since I was young, I loved wood. Before I could do aught with it, I was fascinated by Ilriane, our carver's, work. Used to spend hours watching her." Nari laughed, the breath coming from her nose in a brief huff. "Used to bring her whatever sticks I could carry, too. I don't think any of them were much use to her, but she never minded. She'd give me something small the next day, let me think it'd been my gathering that had aided her."

After checking that the space was right, she began on the outside, paring it off with a small sharp blade until it formed a rough dome. "She taught me a few things, once my mother allowed it. The day she gave me my first carving knife... well. I remember it as well as the day I got my vallaslin. Perhaps a bit more, but I don't think June would mind that, considering." The hunter tapped the apex of her tattoo with a crooked grin, and swapped the blade for a sand-cloth. "Let's make sure you're not trading metal pricks for wooden ones, aye?"

She took her time with the smoothing, a fine dust settling across her lap, her hands, her expression turning more somber. "It stopped being mere good will and kindness after the raid. She was hurt, and... I think it became more important to her that the knowledge was passed down. Felt like she had a time limit, now." The little thimble began to pick up a very soft shine. "And... she did, it turns out. Left me all of it. A fine set of tools, her space, her blessing. So much more than she gave me that first-knife day, but I was less happy to receive it."

Nari blew a forceful puff of air into the hole, then a second, then held it out to Vasran with a small quirk of her lips. "Try that. And let me know if it snags the cloth you're working with--I've a finer sand-cloth," she said, then ran her fingers through her hair with a rueful chuckle. "I'm sorry it came with history attached. I talk when I work."

Vasran watched and listened with wary curiosity. Little by little, she had been getting to know the Dalish, but something about really talking to them made her feel strange. She would sometimes feel that they had things in common... but then they would mention carvers, or vallaslin, and suddenly sound entirely alien.

She accepted the carved thimble, turning it over in her fingers to admire the fineness of the work.

"I learned to embroider in the Circle." She felt she was repeating herself, but then again... where else would she have learned anything? "It was expected that we would know how to mend our own robes, at least, to prolong their usefulness. But I could never settle for being simply adequate. I wanted to know how to make something beautiful."

Nahariel nodded her agreement, smiling broadly at the other woman's desire for creation... but not just that, for beautiful creation. After all, it was the same drive that kept her up burning candles into the night, hunched over some piece or another.

"That's worthy of you," she said warmly, brushing the shavings from her knees--careful not to get any on the evolving banner--and leaning in to take a look at the stitching again. "Did you figure most of this yourself, then? I know very little of the Circle, but it never seemed the place for embroidery lessons."

As per usual Sam could be found at the armory - course when he wasn't in the sparring ring or at the healers' tents - working on on armor, or at least the beginnings of it. So at first he doesn't notice when someone enters approaches. Not until he turns around for another one of his tools, only to jump slightly and mutter something under his breath.

"Maker. You could make a bit more noise when you come in." And not give him a heart attack. "Nari, it's been a while."

"Sam," she replied, with a nod of acknowledgement and a quick smile that flashed bright against the brown of her face, "it's good to see you." Nahariel moved to lean forward and rest her elbows on a nearby bench, eyes flickering over the unfinished armor appreciatively.

"Your work's looking good. Have time for a little project?"

"Thanks, but it still has some work before it's anywhere near done." This wasn't an armor he was familiar with making, but seeing as it was a fun side project he messed with it on his off time.

Sam doesn't stop working, needing to set the metal as it was cooling, but he did pause to talk. "What kind of project were you thinking of?"

"Ornamental," she replied shortly, continuing to watch as he shaped the plates. "Something to spruce up the main hall of the keep--make it really ours. I was planning on carving the banisters, alternating imagery. You know. Represent everyone. Then I got to thinking, and the banners could use an update, maybe some cultural weapons, shields..."

Nari shook her head, ran her hand through her short hair with a wry look that Sam could hear, even if he wasn't looking at her.

"I don't know. Unity. Beauty. Something that's not just utilitarian. Make the hall something that everyone could look at and see something of themselves. Silly maybe, but..."

The elf paused, picked for a bit at a splinter that'd come loose in the table.

"You in?"

Ornamental weaponry from different cultures to hang around the main hall. Sam finishes up what he's doing, forming the plate then cooling it that way he didn't have to worry about it getting ruined and that he can give Nari his full attention.

"We're going to have to find a way to get designs from the different cultures if that's what you're planning. I'm afraid I only know Ferelden style and a bit of the Free Marches." So that would be a 'yes'.

Straightening up, she clapped her hands together in delight. "Excellent! Good. As far as the designs? I'm hoping I can find someone from each culture to do a piece." Nari grinned, tossed her hair from her eye with a quick flick of her head. "Which means I've got my Fereldan. And Free Marches, if you like. And perhaps something from the Circle?" A mischevious grin. "I'm happy to make the haft, if you know aught of staff-crafting, or know someone who does."

Sam raises his brow at the mention of the Circle. "Each Circle is based on the culture of the region it's in, more or less, so there wouldn't be much to on with that. If you want to do something for Mages though... you'll also need to include something for Templars and any other groups." Last thing any of them need is a group feeling left out and starting a fight some place.

"As for staffs I only know the art of adding blades and metal design to them. If you want it out of metal though we could work something out."

The hunter waved her hand, "The staff itself I can carve, if needed. I just meant... well...," she paused, forehead furrowing in uncertainty.

"I have no idea how they work. Do you... put magic into them? Is there some kind of focus object you stick on the end? Are they just for show?" Nahariel laughed helplessly, covering her face with a hand, then peeking out at him from behind it.

That was a fair question, and extremely cute with the way Nari suddenly hides behind her hands. He's not used to her reacting in such a way, but he supposes that goes to show that they've been around each other enough that she's opening up to him more over time.

"Technically a mage doesn't need a staff, but it requires a lot more concentration to aim and cast a spell then. Staves generally have a focus in or around them someplace that allows us to focus our magic. Generally the focus is at the top where you aren't hitting it against the ground."

That... made sense. She nodded.

"Can anything become a focus? Are there things that are better at it than others?" the elf asked, quick one after the other, shifting her weight as she settled into the topic.

Edited 2016-09-01 17:01 (UTC)

[OoC: I'm completely BSing this since the game doesn't really tell you how staffs are made, etc. Just going with what we've discussed in FR and educated guesses.]

It was a lot of questions, but honestly he kind of expected it, after all, how often did Nari use magic or a focus?

"The focus does have to be magic based so not just anything can become a focus, and even then not everything magical can be a focus - the list though is pretty large. Items can range from a magical gem or some part of the the material of the weapon being magically infused."

Though Cade isn't any sort of specific crafter or artisan, he has been set about the task of hauling things and holding them still and lifting and essentially doing all the work that makes the work of the actual builders possible. He can often be seen with mud up to his knees and callouses on his hands, his eyes downcast and his body hunched as though all he wants in the whole world is simply to disappear from view.

On one particular occasion, he's resting against a pile of bricks on a water break when he notices movement. His first inclination is to flinch away from the sight of a Dalish, but she hardly seems concerned with him, instead doing... something... to the railing. Cade watches her with uncertain curiosity-- the part of him that never shuts off naturally suspects some manner of foul play. But... he's not about to raise any alarm, not with how his last encounters with Dalish have gone.

Something was taking a knife to the first baluster--testing. For old wood, it had held up well; better than some of the stone, in fact. Whether or not it would take carving well or need to be replaced? Well. That was the question.

Speaking of the stone...one of the workers had been staring a hole in her back for a few minutes. She'd snuck a look under the pretense of tossing her hair from her eyes and found it to be that young hollow-eyed Templar who'd come to grief with Beleth some months ago. He looked a bit suspicious of her, but nervous. The kind of energy that couldn't decide if it were predator or prey. He reminded her of the little wounded kit she'd found a few years back. It had been angry, spit, hissed. Its claws certainly weren't anything to laugh about, but even so.

Right. Let him see. Perhaps it'll be his idea to talk.

Nahariel showed her work without looking, as she might show a wild thing. Shifted her position so he could see her hands, the blade, curls of wood that fell, the parchment across her knees with her designs, all under the cover of a small comfortable stretch.

Being who he was, Cade didn't have any ideas involving talking. But he continued to watch, periodically sipping from his waterskin, finding a strange satisfaction in watching the wood carve away. Even if he and the elf weren't directly interacting, there was, perhaps, a moment happening.

Well enough, she thought. A quiet one, then.

Nari tamped down her curiosity. She had the distinct feeling that if she said something to him, he'd turn tail and leave as soon as answer her. Honestly, had it not been for Knight Commander Sauveterre's trail-rescue, and the time they'd spent together on the ride to Skyhold, she'd probably have the same wary reaction to him.

The thought that people could be as wary of the Dalish as the Dalish were of them made her huff an amused breath through her nose.

Maybe everyone's scared, she mused.

As the minutes went by, and the leafy boughs and stylized halla of the Dalish baluster began to form beneath her hands, Nahariel let herself think less of her watcher, relaxed into the rhythm of the work.

The balusters would take weeks, after all. If he were interested, he'd come back. Maybe she'd greet him then. Ask for an opinion on the Templar design.

As usual, without knowing, she began to whistle quietly.

There wasn't a lot of music in Cade's life of late, and as the woman began to whistle, he realized this. It provoked a sudden feeling of relief, a drink of cool water when he hadn't even realized he was thirsty. It was no liturgical choir, but still a balm to his soul.
He lowered his head to listen, closing his eyes.

It would continue, while she worked, the rhythmic scraping of her knives, chisels, rasps, forming a backbone to the sound. Nahariel didn't know when she'd developed the habit--and even now she wasn't always aware of it--but old melodies twirling from between her pursed lips always seemed to make her lines more graceful. After her years of practice, it didn't seem to bother those she worked with either, so she saw no harm in it.

She snuck a look at the watching fellow. He seemed to be a bit more relaxed, eyes closed, head moving near-imperceptibly side to side along with the tune.

The chapel was close to the garden--she'd learned the songs in bits and pieces over the months. Perhaps...

On a strange impulse, Nari let the Dalish tune she'd been whistling segue into a slightly embellished version of 'The Dawn Will Come'--her favourite of them.

He almost doesn't notice it, too lost in thinking about... well, now he can't remember, because he knows that tune. Cade lifts his head to watch the elf more closely, his expression curious but wary. As always, he'll believe he's being mocked before he'll believe someone is being kind to him. But he's never even met her before. ...and she's so good at it, it would be a waste.

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A Maker's Renaissance [open]

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probably early Solace

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