born from dark water, daughter of the rain and snow

[dashing]

WHO: Herian Amsel, Leliana & Ruby Lucas and various and also open
WHAT: various! a catch-all for three losers
WHEN: throughout August
WHERE: Skyhold, Orlais, and much much more (not actually much more.)
(Herian will be in Skyhold for the first week or so of August, and then is heading back to Orlais, Leliana will be in Skyhold throughout, Ruby is probably in Orlais most of the month.)
NOTES: Prose or brackets are fine! If you would like to do a thing and these starters don't fit or you'd like something custom, feel free to pm me or prod me on plurk @karmacharging.
WARNINGS:
Herian's background includes themes of violence, torture and death, as well as discrimination and PTSD. While she will not in general be vocal about some of her own prejudices (against apostates, Dalish and nobles as some examples) it is very likely to come up in narrative and could come up in dialogue depending on interactions. Here is an opt out post if you'd rather certain things be avoided, or if you'd like to opt out of interactions with her in general.

Leliana is princess stabbity, it's hard to avoid depending on the thread so heads up for potential mention of Assassin Life, opt out here.

Ruby has potential for mentions of murder, cannibalism (both accidental) and depression, they are easily avoidable depending on threads, but here is an opt out post if you would like me to steer clear of particular topics, or opt out of interactions with Ruby generally.

( open. ) herian — halamshiral & around the estate.
There is a little stretch at the very beginning of the month when Herian travels to Skyhold with a collection of Inquisition requisitions and troops and others needing to make a return to Skyhold. The elves that she brought to Halamshiral travel, and that is the only reason for it that she has. She is not yet certain if the Inquisition is a damned thing, or if she should stay. For now, she is more than half certain she should take her leave and continue to try and help the elves of Orlais.

( a. ) patching herself up.
A scuffle with bandits on the return journey, and though she was unharmed and there were no others in the party, it has left her a little worse for wear. She is able enough with a sword, but trying to get by with a little magic on the open road as possible and no staff, she has to admit she has a way to go before she can be well matched against those who have held blades for so much of their lives.

She sits, now, far away from the healing tents, avoiding the smell of salves and herbs and all the rest that goes with it, though the prospect of avoiding a place where she knows Dalish to wander has a certain appeal as well. The thing is, though, that Herian is no healer, and her grasp of the medical is limited to helping in emergencies. As she tries to crush elf root in her hand and rub it over a vicious gasp across her forearm, her lip curls in something like a snarl for just half a moment before the expression is controlled again. There are other wounds, nothing life threatening, but a few that are rather painful.

( b. ) training.
Herian rises early to train, long before the sun has given thought to rising for itself. For hour upon hour she trains, sword drill after sword drill, until the sun is beating more powerfully against the earth, and she sets down her sword to dip a cup into a water bucket, and pour it down her back, another tipped over her hair. There is something of a commotion, and a couple of refugee children are belting through the yard, one shoving the water barrel so it almost goes topping over and drenching—

But Herian's hand grasps it, and although it is tall and very heavy, she manages to keep it upright. Possibly with some water dramatically splashed, yes, but not the whole thing. "Are you all right?"

( c. ) wildcard.
Very early in the month it's cool to do stuff in Skyhold, but later on she's back in Halamshiral.


( open. ) ruby — halamshiral & around the estate.
( a. ) in the alienage.
"I've—" Her voice wavers a moment, and she looks at the skeletons of buildings. They all seem like different types of carcasses, their flesh charred and their limbs warped and twisted. Buildings were one thing. People were another, and they carried the marks of all this on them as well.

Everything carries the scents of death in it that normal noses cannot smell, beyond all the obvious layers. There are times when the Wolf's nose is a gift, but this? This is seriously not one of them.

"I haven't seen anything like this in a long time." It's like the worst of Regina, but they had outright called her the Evil Queen. From what Ruby could figure, calling Celene that could risk your neck.

( b. ) wildcard.

Comments

leliana; catching up on projects

[arcaneadvisor]

The reception to her message on the sending crystal - the first Morrigan has put out in some months - is far better than expected, and it sends her up to the rookery to seek out Leliana with a satisfied smile on her face. She has information today. It might not all of it prove entirely useful but she's done it, done something that isn't entirely her realm, something that was theirs months before there was a them (is there a 'them', they still haven't really spoken specifics and she's content to step around it the way she is with half a hundred and half a hundred more other things) and she actually waits until Leliana is ready to speak with her.

Progress? Well there's a raven that's happy to come perch on her hand, quorking until Morrigan strokes delicately between two beady black eyes that slip shut in rapture until she announces herself.

"Leliana." Always and forever Leliana. "Have you a moment?"

[fightingale]

That particular raven would be one Dominic de Plume, more often known as Dom de Plume. He is a clever raven, perhaps a little less solid than some of the others, but no less skilful, no less value. Dom opens his beak in protest as Morrigan speaks to Leliana and not him. It is a veritable sea of :V.

Leliana, the far inferior Rookery inhabitant involved in this conversation (and also far less inclined to smoosh her her head against Morrigan's hand for attention), looks over without any smile that's readily visible, and yet her smile is apparent all the same.

"No," she replies, and only then is the hint of a smile a little more obvious, and only for a moment, "but I believe a debrief is necessary regardless. Abarca," and she addresses a dwarven scout whose gaze is as sharp as her own, "if you would be so kind as to distribute the orders?"

Abarca nods, takes up the sealed scrolls, and nods to Leliana and then to Morrigan before going to make his exit.

[arcaneadvisor]

Honestly, it's almost as if the ravens know that Morrigan is in the habit of carrying some sort of bribe about her person (she would never call them a bribe, they most certainly are not bribes, she would never stoop so low as to bribe Leliana's ravens into her favour but well, Baron Plucky has never once been unkind to her so there you go, she is doing something correctly) that she tips into her hand for him. "Hush," she murmurs to the bird. "I am not so kind to most men, ask the painted crow."

This is what she is reduced to, are you happy Leliana? Did you know she is playing Schrodinger's nug with Alistair regarding what sort of pet Kieran can get so she'll never be saddled with Doghren for longer than a mission? If Shale could see this scene, imagine the carnage.

"That so many come from worlds where demons or dragons, or indeed both belong to the realm of mere stories will never cease to surprise me." Horrify, might be a more appropriate choice of word but she is in something of a good mood as Dom de Plume decides he would rather hop up on her shoulder to bob his head at his boss. What it's a good view :V. "Still, I do have some news of interest."

[fightingale]

"Dominic rather likes to be the centre of attention," Leliana replies, even if the comment was directed to the bird and not to her. There is a note of dryness in it, very subtle, as she makes a few more notes and then slides the papers to the side, nodding to the seat opposite her in a silent sort of offering. "As you can imagine, it is a most desirable trait in a discrete messenger bird."

Leliana didn't make Morrigan do anything, she accepts no accusations regarding happiness, sorry to say.

Her eyebrows raise slightly, more in to suggest that she is surprised by Morrigan's own use of surprise over something more dramatic. "Their worlds must be strange, indeed," she replies, rather diplomatically. "Next they will say they have no nugs. A devastating notion."

[arcaneadvisor]

"You can be assured he shall not lose his composure under pressure, how many men can you say that of?" Morrigan's opinions of men are well known, even of the feathered variety it would seem. "Away with you," she murmurs, a final scratch and a nudge to dislodge the raven so he'll flap off to join his brethren, probably to go and be smug because look who got to be the favourite for the day. The swaggering Dom de Plume, that's who.

A likely story.

"If nugs prove vital to the fate of the world then I shall adopt the firstborn of any young yours might have." Regrets, Morrigan will have them. "Shall I speak of dragons first or demons? And shall we speak openly given that we are discussing rifters after all that has occurred?" It's perhaps more sensitivity than would be expected of Morrigan but she's remembering all that time in Leliana's bed, her unable to speak, choking down bitter potions. This is important but not if any will take exception enough to ever make another attempt.

Not when Morrigan herself was on that list of suspects.

[fightingale]

Leliana considers carefully. "Three with utmost certainty, others vary depending on the particular form the pressure takes." She says it so seriously, and only after a moment does she smile, fractional. It may have been serious, or it may have been a joke. Who knows, honestly?

"If, you say," Leliana counters, with the tone suggesting that uh, obviously they are, where have you been? Except, subtly, and politely...ish. The question, honestly, surprises her, and she looks at Morrigan for a couple of moments before assembling a reply. "We can converse in my chambers, if you've preference of it. The rookery is private, however."

[arcaneadvisor]

The best response to that is and isn't a response, it's pretty much just Morrigan's idle animation of unfolding and then folding her arms as her eyes roll. Why are you like this? (Leliana do you ask that same thing about Morrigan?)

"I see none armoured for battle." The less said about the scandalous attired gifted by Zevran, the better but if you pony up for nuggalopes she will grudgingly be impressed. "Anyone might intrude upon the rookery," she points out - quite correctly since it's open all the way through the rotunda, right at the top of the flight of stairs. "Including your...students. Some of what has been relayed to me has been done so in confidence. And I had promised Kieran I would personally enquire after Schmooples for him."

Or rather she gets very little time where she actually does get to demand some alone time without it sounding petty and jealous, in a way more suited to her as a girl, and this is as close as she can safely get really. So please humour her or she will take drastic measures.

[fightingale]

To my chambers, then does not need to be said; she simply gestures in the direction with her hand, a silent after you, waiting for Morrigan to move before she falls into step.

"Not at the present moment, but I could certainly see to it. Zevran did pick their armour wonderfully."

She cannot help herself, she is powerless to resist sass when nugs are involved, sorry to say.

It does not take long to reach the door to her chambers, and she nods for Morrigan to precede her. "Schmooples will have a new favourite, if I'm not careful."

[arcaneadvisor]

"You do recall Zevran's penchant for battle skirts?" They likely had a different name elsewhere but Morrigan cast spells in the back unless she was rushing forward in a form other than her own so she saw far too much. "You have a reputation to uphold, I am sure."

Your nugs deserve better, but try prying those words from her lips.

Taking a seat quicker than she did the first time, when her curiosity demanded she spend more time peering around than was perhaps fitting, she smiles, small and fond. "You could do far worse than Kieran." It barely even sounds defensive but he's an odd boy, she knows that, even if Leliana has never uttered a word compared even to Alistair who spent a good month just staring, as if Morrigan wouldn't be aware. A blind nug would have been aware. Oghren would have been aware. "You shall be pleased to know that our dragons are minnows compared to those of some worlds, likely small enough to be devoured. And that my mother would be the worst sort of abomination for being able to assume the form of one."

[fightingale]

A little tilt of her head is the only response to both the comments regarding Zevran, and regarding Kieran. She will make no argument on either front. It is the news of the dragons that has rather caught her attention.

"Fortunate for us," she replies, very softly, taking a seat opposite Morrigan, "unless one of them decides to join us through a rift."

And, as an afterthought, "I thought we already considered your mother to be such."

[arcaneadvisor]

"We have been fortunate." Does she need to add the 'so far' part? Most likely she does not, not when her mouth twists and her tone darkens since her opinion on Skyhold is known. That it lurches so awkwardly from one disaster to the next, and that the momentum is at least forward, not backward, perhaps the only thing that they can always count in their favour. Even then, how long can that last? "He said they reshaped the world - could you imagine such a thing? More than through what Tevinter and Blights did, dragons alone cannot claim credit for such actions."

And she is young again, a smile on her face as she explains, hands outstretched to explain the point better until it freezes and threatens to sour. Very few would know Morrigan's false smiles from the true ones after all.

"Well, he did express such an interest in Asha'bellanar. The Dalish do like to tell such tales of her, I suspect any of the Champion's companions do too." That Merrill has never mentioned her is a strange sort of mercy, Morrigan does not wish to speak of her mother to someone she does consider an ally verging on friend. "Speaking of: they had no reproductive drive, but he made mention of them referring to themselves as 'he' or 'she' though that mattered little. It would suggest much higher thought than any dragon of Thedas."

GUH sorry my bro idk why this took me so long

[fightingale]

"Aren't we always?"

Wry, just a little. Her smile is a small thing, as she idly nudges Morrigan's foot with her own, a gentle nudging towards levity. Do not be so tense, an urging that comes particularly at the mention of Asha'bellanar. (What a delightful parent to be introduced to.)

"Which rifter was this, Morrigan? Or are you compelled to maintain a confidence against me, as well?"

It is not sharp or critical— only curious, when they have slowly been growing so close, so entangled. What person would be set before that?

[arcaneadvisor]

It does the job well; a corner of Morrigan's mouth lifts, her shoulders slide down and back an inch, her hands uncurl.

"Thranduil," she continues, ignoring the first part to breathe. To put a little distance as if she is mulling it over, to better make Leliana wait. "One of the elves not of this world. You are most fortunate to remain in my good graces."

A lofty position, there are like three of you that are there always and one has default position by way of being her son so congratulations. Oh and please ignore that her mouth does twist, just a touch. Strange elf men and her adopted Orlesian daughter.

Would you like any of your Skyhold baes and strange men? (Imagine if you will for a moment you held Morrigan's opinion on men as a whole.)