faderift | The secrets in the snow

yngvi;
tavern;
There are three (okay so technically four) places to look for Yngvi Congealedinagutterson if you want to find him: the undercroft, skulking about in the vicinity of Gwenaelle Vauquelin, or the tavern. (Or places he shouldn't be, but you actually want to find him, don't you?) So he's in the tavern most of the time when he's not doing something that could qualify as work. The nugs are in attendance and Yngvi's clearly been up in the hold judging from the new pelt he's bundled up in.

The not-from-Asher pelt. Which is...well it is. And Yngvi is drinking. Which he does most days because he's a dwarf and it's not like this stuff bothers him when he practically got weaned on it anyway but pull up a seat and don't squash his nugs. They're brave, not intelligent.

undercroft;
Down in the undercroft is where Yngvi spends an appreciable portion of his 'not-actively-getting-under-someone's-feet' time. Whilst still getting underfoot because that's just a fact of life when you're Yngvi to be quite honest, but these days when the cold comes howling in because you can't trust elves (this place has an elf name, but what elves know about building would comfortably fit a thimble if this is the example he's got to go with) he busies himself with actually working to keep warm. The hammering is excessively loud but that's just Yngvi.

Ask pretty much any hapless person who has the misfortune of being down there when Yngvi has been around before, prodding and poking, spraying crumbs because there's half a sandwich being shoved down his gullet as he works.

Lots to get done it would seem, traps and honing axes and improvements to the keg chariot but he wouldn't say no to a break if you can make yourself heard above the racket.

battlements;
And if Yngvi can't be found in any of the usual haunts, he's found a new spot. Or spots. Do you call it a spot if it's kind of a long snaking line? Possibly not but he's drunk and this is quite high for not being part of the mountain itself, up here on the battlements, usually in the dead of night. Maybe spooking a guard because there are just a pair of eyes and part of a nose poking out of the furs he's wrapped in because it's freezing up here.

If he leans up and over just right, he can sort of look out over the world and-- "Don't get the appeal of this unless you're hanging someone else over it because they owe you money."

That's the only point of building fortifications so sturdy so high up. Unless you're going to parachute off them but the Inquisition, and more importantly the rest of the Boneflayers, wouldn't take kindly to him inviting some Carta relatives up here to test that one out. Probably.

wildcard;
[Or make up your own scenario and I'll roll with it.]

It's not the dead of night because Korrin uses that to keep her lady warm, thank you, but at some point in the evening when the tavern's crowded and she needs some fresh air Yngvi will have some company. The tall Vashoth woman makes good use of the furs Asher gave her, as shielded from this southern nonsense known as 'winter' as she can manage without compromising her freedom of movement. Hearing Yngvi, she smirks and strides over.

"Oh, are you offering yourself? Because I don't have anything better to do at the moment."

Well excuse some of them for having busy schedules that don't involve a great deal of lounging about when there's work that could be getting done, if Asher-- No. He cuts that thought off sharp and leans up on his toes, plants his chin on the edge of the stonework that seems sturdiest here until it digs into the skin enough to sting through the cold as he squints up at her.

"Piss off." Hi Korrin, how are you because he hasn't seen you in a good month because he fucked off up a mountain to go spend part of the winter somewhere equally cold because Aura said they all should and no one resists Aura Hardie. Which he might explain, might not, needs to work his jaw a bit more and swing down because he can't actually talk like this it turns out. Pity. Had a view for almost a minute. "Don't owe you shit do I? Asher owed you money yeah because Asher never kept track of the money but you take that up with Liadan, not my good self. 'Sides, you'd lose your fingers, bet your lass'd be cross then." His teeth chatter with the cold, so that about covers up how his smile isn't the usual flinty sort of affair it should be but well it's a long journey to Skyhold for a dwarf in a keg drawn by nugs isn't it?

Korrin snorts in amusement at all that; being annoyed at Yngvi for his rudeness would be like yelling at the ocean for its tides or the clouds for their rain. It's just the way he is, and she knows it. Besides, the fact that he's still breathing means he's faster than he looks, even bundled up. "I plan to keep my fingers, thanks, even if the South seems determined to freeze them off. Andraste's tits, why can't we have our headquarters somewhere less face-hurtingly cold? Corypheus should've pulled his shit up in the north, near a beach."

Or within riding distance of one, for Araceli's sake. "Where've you been, man? Game night's been tamer without you." Maybe not by that much, but Yngvi's contributions always added a certain flavor, one that's been lacking without his foul-mouthed presence.

Ah, let him give a truly sage answer for the ages. "Swamp crotch. Do you want an entire Inquisition of swamp crotch because people like us know how to live in such places and move around between them but I bet that most people would be itching and stinking inside a month. Like...like the Wounded Coast on a low tide." Not what he'd originally planned but the Wounded Coast has a legendary smell with legends Yngvi shall embellish at the drop of a hat should he need to so there, it works.

"Away. Things to do, places to see, babies to have shouting matches with, people owe me money." By the way guess which one of those things definitely happened. "Went off up another mountain to go see Aura didn't I? Boneflayers all got an invite to go spend time with her. Her and the old boy." Shivering he brings up one of his perpetually ragged thumbnails, gnawing at the edge of it until it's red and wet before he spits over the edge of the battlements. "D'you reckon that'll freeze before it hits the ground?"

Yngvi's answer has Korrin grimacing, recalling instances of swamp crotch in others while part of her mercenary band. "Ugh, thanks for reminding me about that pitfall. You're such a giver, Yngvi. If we ever do move north, you get to break that particular news to everyone." Maybe it'll be better coming from him, because if his disgusting descriptions don't have everyone scrambling to take care of themselves properly, they're a lost cause.

Peering downward over the edge, she smirks a little. "Maybe it will. You could always weaponize that, I bet."

Her thoughts turning to Aura and Bronson, Korrin smiles a little, as she has a soft spot in her heart for them both. With all the downtime lately, she remembered to send a brief letter but isn't sure if it's arrived there yet. "And how are they doing? I hope the winter isn't going hard for the old boy. He'd better be fattening up by the fire and letting the younger pups hang out in the snow."

All Yngvi does is smile up at her, wiping away the blood that's still clinging to his mouth from chewing on the ragged edge of nail. "Or I could go ahead of everyone, cultivate it myself to prove to all the healers about that they don't know shit about the real world and real problems because they don't. How many of them lived in some great spiralling tower where it was paper cuts and falling down the stairs or catching something nasty from sneaking about? The only swamps most of them know are in books and that doesn't count, nothing counts if it's in a book unless you can use it to make money." That's advice right there, hold onto that, he got that thumped into him. Not with books. Books are valuable. How do you think meat is tenderised in the undercity? Hurled at young dwarves until you won't do in your jaw chewing it, that's how.

"Kirkwall, Korrin, Kirkwall. Not taking that risk." Not much makes Yngvi uncomfortable, and he missed the bit with the blood magic getting really wild but everyone in Kirkwall lost people then, and Yngvi knows all their names so he does. He'd prefer to skirt round that because next thing you know someone might accuse him of being an actual person, can't be having that.

Whistling a breath out through his teeth hurts in the cold, sets them on edge. Time for some warmth from the flask in one of his pockets but he's buggered if he can remember which one has the fire water in it right away. Gives him a spot of time. "Aura's got a sword now. And a shield. Sent a letter to m'lady some months back after she had an odd dream so Gjurd's training her up to be some sort of fancy warrior type - not Templar-y but it's some proper weird thing. Discipline and protecting and connected to something but she's not that far yet." He gets the flask out, fumbles it in a way that's fake but looks real, gives him more to do with his hands before he takes a swig that burns, kicks like a mule for good measure. He doesn't want to be having this conversation but it's Korrin, not Mal, Mal'd cry he reckons. And he doesn't know what his face is doing because the flask twists his reflection up and warps it something fierce. "Bronson--"

It isn't the drink that tightens his throat up and cuts the word off, he wishes it was, he's wished a lot of things that have had him whirling about more than usual in fits of temper or disappearing off entirely with nothing to do beyond the urge to scream at the sky, not words but animal sounds. "S'gone. He was an old dog, they don't last forever anyway." Look, it can't sound like he cares.

Korrin snorts at mention of Kirkwall and it's blood mage issues. "Ew. I didn't mean it like that." But she won't press onward for what was supposed to be a silly offhand comment in the first place.

And then the news of Bronson has her shoulders sagging, as a lump in her throat forms. She's not in tears, she expected it to happen sooner or later, but some part of her hoped that he would be around the next time she visited the hold. Her voice is a little hoarse when she finally does find words, staring downward past the edge. "...poor old boy. I hope he went easy, he deserved that much. Asher couldn't have asked for better. At least Aura was there for him at the end." That he would have been given the best of care, she has no doubt.

But it doesn't make it any easier to hear, that one more link to Asher is gone. She absently touches the spot on her arm where the honey badger tattoo is, underneath those layers of winter wear. "Good for Aura, on the training. I'm sure she has the grit to see it through. I'll pay a visit in the spring, if I can, see her progress for myself. Tell her all about your swamp crotch plan, too." Her lips twitch in what is almost a smirk at that, but the amusement doesn't reach her eyes.

He was only a dog, he was only a dog, and Yngvi has made his stance on all of that so clear but it's that-- he makes a noise in his throat, scrubs both palms over the stubble that's closer to a beard for the moment because it's keeping his face warm, right, nothing to do with anything else no matter what Amalia was saying. She can't even grow one, what does she know? "What does that even mean," he mutters because what does it even mean? Because if Asher was meant to go down swinging then he's sure that Bronson was meant to go down like that too, just a second after Asher so Asher didn't need to see it or something, or they both went together, and Asher would've said something stupid with blood everywhere. Not like how the blood was then.

"Gjurd's making Aura all weird," is what he says instead of what's sitting in his head, pushes it somewhere else because he'll need to see his lady, his lady who has her pup named Hardie so he can't be anything other than what she expects. "She'll say something weird to you too, like sometimes she's not just Aura anymore, don't know how to explain that one right. Looks less gangly though. Less like a colt. But that's what happens when you swap farming for cutting down trees, got wagers on how long it'll be before she goes stealing someone and if she'll steal a skald. Someone needs to do some stealing, told her it's only proper if she means to do right by me. And right by Mal because that's how he got into trouble so she needs to do something for that one."

Edited 2017-01-12 19:01 (UTC)

"It means just that." If Bronson couldn't meet his end in battle alongside Asher -and she can see the appeal in that- then at the very least, she hopes he wasn't in any pain. She likes to believe he shuffled the mortal coil while dreaming of Asher, a thought that has her clearing her throat to dislodge that pesky lump in it.

"So she's got some meat on her now? Good, I'll see if she's up to an arm-wrestling match sometime." Korrin's still likely to win, given that she's built her muscles up over a longer period and is a fucking qunari but still, if anyone can give her a run for her money it's one of the Avvar folk. The fact that Aura isn't pure Avvar doesn't change that. She arches an eyebrow at Yngvi's talk about Aura being 'weird', but talk of stealing has her distracted and chuckling for a bit. "If you're taking wagers, I'll join in. It's bound to happen sooner or later, and I'd say sooner." Given all her loss, she needs something good in her life, so Korrin would never begrudge her that. "They'd better be worthy of her stealing, or they'll have plenty of people after them."

And okay, she'll bite. "'Weird', like those seers up in Rivain or something? She's not a mage, but Avvar all have a relationship with the spirits, don't they?"

"It's stupid," and that's petulant, also he's tired of standing so he's going to just casually slide down so his back is to the battlements even if he is literally freezing his arsehole off now. It's not fair but when did that ever mean shit in Yngvi's life, when was that ever a phrase he actually uttered? Even he wasn't stupid enough. Humans and elves and mages all get to say it but Carta dwarf children don't unless they want to probably be considered dead weight and useless Carta dwarf children with black eyes and missing teeth.

He should've stopped somewhere longer on the road. Worked more of this out. Come back with the same mad sort of caper he had with Gwen's father but somehow a dog dies and his heart isn't in it, and the worst thing is that he knows that Asher would get it.

"You break her your face goes in a trap, she's ours. I mean she has a muscle and not a twig. Doesn't stab when she hugs now." Because that's what Aura Hardie always was, a collection of awkward too-long limbs with pointy joints, tripping over her courtesies even to him and his brother, now she's...well she's happy, so that's the main thing, and Eleanor Hardie can turn to a pillar of salt for all he cares, miserable wretch that she is. "Well she's staying in Sigrid's house so she'd know what to look for, and her taste is better than Asher's. Which is to say, she has taste. And isn't just in it for what she can get. I mean...Asher liked some weird shit. Mostly the married ones and that one what wrote the shite books but there was that whole thing with Mal. Fuckin' bizarre thing that was. Torbjorn still just stares into the fire and mutters 'motherfucker' 'bout that business y'know." And if Torbjorn is doing that then you know that shit is going down because he took on one too many bears in Yngvi's esteemed and learned opinion.

Because Yngvi saw Asher take on bears, it does things to a man's head right.

Flapping a hand, he mutters what sounds like an oath before glancing every which way. "Don't say that word, Nasir'll pop out with Amalia on his arse with a fireball - I'll get the blame not you. I know that whole thing but this is like...warrior. With a spirit. Together. Like how mages do but obviously not because it's different but it's definitely more than just the usual there's a spirit all up inside me thing."

That sounds weird enough to investigate sometime, as even in Korrin's travels all over Thedas she isn't very familiar with such practices. (Or at all, really.) Shrugging, she rubs the back of her neck. "You know me, I like spirits...on the other side, doing their own thing and leaving me alone. Never really cared much for working with them, even the less assholish ones. Falling into the Fade only served to remind me why it's best to keep a distance."

Ugh, she hated that place, at least as it was when they fell into it. The Nightmare is only one reason, if a major one. Remembering that she brought back one of its tentacles and got to see Asher consume it brings out a twitch of her lips, though. "Still, if that's what she's set on, then she can show off for me if she likes. I'll support it, even if I don't get it." Just like she didn't get drinking dragon's blood or delving into berserker rages, but Korrin supports her friends that do because they look past her mage status and all the stigma that brings. The least she can do is give them the benefit of the doubt. "And of course I'm not going to break her. Andraste's tits, you should know me better than that. A friendly match is just that, and that's assuming she'd even want it."

The only people she never holds back with are fellow qunari and especially the Valo-Kas, because she knows she can't break them. Everyone else gets it slightly easier, but she won't insult anyone by treating them with kid gloves. If they want a win, they at least have to make some effort to earn it.

A wry smile forms, as she stares off at the horizon. "Haven't heard a peep out of Mal, good or bad. The only thing I know for sure is that the Valo-Kas haven't seen him. He'll come back when he's ready and not a moment before, but when he does, he's getting a smack upside the head for not leaving so much as a 'I'm still alive' message."

"Well she wrote a good and proper letter to m'lady after the spirits gave her a dream, and m'lady needed that. Avvar've been doing it longer than anyone else, you just live around humans and they're all idiots who listen to the Chantry, and elves, and they listen to the Chantry or they listen to people who like the smell of halla arse. Least that's how Melisende and Liadan put it, and I reckon they're qualified since they've come outta the alienages." Yngvi can talk a lot about things because Kirkwall, shit was weird before some puffed-up doglord got famous there, but y'know, some things he can sort of shrug off because he's a dwarf and he doesn't have to deal with them just as much as the others do. Plus he'll be contrary six times before breakfast for the sake of it.

Still, a flint-sharp grin slips onto his face for a moment. "Fell into a sky vagina. Thought Asher was the one that fell into vaginas, or that was his excuse when someone came chasing us because Asher'd gotten us into trouble. Reckon a sky vagina'd be less trouble the way I heard it. It can't badmouth you and tarnish your reputation all the way to Nevarra before you've finished stitching yourselves up." Fucking Asher. Like literally fucking Asher, so many problems, so much coin to solve them. "Don't say you don't get it or that because she'll just...know? Just-- or Gjurd. Gjurd will know. And Gjurd isn't afraid of anyone 'cept bigger fish than anything we could name. Gjurd'd have you."

Is he talking shit? Who knows. But seriously, Gjurd could wreck people if he wanted to because he's thrown Yngvi several feet through the air more than once, enough that the landing hurt. Plus the man looks through you enough that Yngvi does get that uncomfortable itchy feeling he only gets around older dwarves, in Orzammar, or after-- scratch that, the third one is a different itch, it doesn't count.

"I have a better plan. It involves bacon grease and a barrel. And hounds. Lots of hounds." You listening, or is that enough?

That last suggestion prompts a loud snort from Korrin, who much to her own surprise laughs despite not thinking her mood would allow it. "Only if they're pure-bred mabari, you know how he feels about those. There's no way he could fight back. Mal needs to see the nuggalopes, too, so keep some of that bacon grease for that moment." Asher the nuggalope would not let Mal go until every bit of it was gone, of that she's certain.

"'Sky vagina'...fuck both of you, I'll never get that out of my head. The only thing to do is make sure no one else can, either. It's the gift that keeps on giving." She huffs and tilts her head back, taking in a deep breath of that cold mountain air. "Qunari have a 'fuck no' policy when it comes to spirits; their whole fear of possession means that any contact is suspect. Tal-Vashoth aren't much better. It makes me wonder what qunari mages were like before the Qun. Maybe they were more like the Avvar and first Qun converts stamped them out because there was no room for that shit in their precious way of life. We'll probably never know, but either way I'll pass on getting friendly with them. The Avvar are welcome to all that...and not gonna lie, the fact that their existence is a middle finger to the Chantry tickles me a bit."

"Isn't that almost cannibalism?" Not that Yngvi is opposed necessarily but he maybe thought Korrin would be when she was the way she was about him asking his questions about dogs and doglords. "They look like weird overgrown boars someone shaved that had an unfortunate incident with a wall to account for the face." But who doesn't love bacon? Maybe Mal wouldn't after that, maybe he'd be traumatised and it'd serve him right so Yngvi would have a great letter to write to the oldest bear in the known world.

Look, as for that, it is what it is. And it really really is. "We're going to start a campaign," no guesses as to the use of 'we', Yngvi tends to only use we without a qualification when he means the Carta, "to trademark that. No one is looking out for dwarven interests in such times, it's a fucking scandal and a disgrace." Just because such things don't do matter to them like dreams and magic and Fade-y stuff doesn't mean they don't deserve to have vested interests. "You know they're the only ones that properly remember any of that. Elves forgot everything, Chantry shoved what they didn't like into the corner and beat it 'til it swore it forgot anything the Chantry didn't want it to know, have mercy Maker and Andraste, and the dwarves down under are all dying because they're ruled by fat lazy idiots that are so mired in the past they don't mind huffing Darkspawn stink all damned day and night, then they wonder why none of them are having babies." (It does not take a genius to look at Wardens having few or zero babies, and Orzammar dwarves having few or zero babies, then to look at surface dwarves especially ones that have never had Orzammar touch them getting big in the belly plenty. But Yngvi doesn't really mention that he notices that because it'd be worth more than his life to mention it, because Wardens are all suspicious bastards, no one wonder Orzammar loves them.)

"And Tevinter was built on everything awful that it wanted to be true, s'pose it tried really hard and made it true plenty of places. Them what deny that are deluding themselves, don't know that they're walking on bones and blood just because they can't smell it anymore." He grinds his teeth, looking away before he takes another swallow of his drink. That's the Kirkwall in him coming out something fierce tonight.

"But they have majestic horns, and that's what matters." Seriously, they could be extraordinarily hideous and Korrin would still love them because the curve of their horns nearly matches her own. That's something no other mount has given her, though their general build and sturdiness has them high in her favor as well. Smaller races can keep horses or whatever. Qunari ought to have something to match their needs.

Korrin's faint smirk vanishes as Yngvi rants on, nodding in grim agreement with much of it. "Vints ruin everything, as usual. There aren't enough good apples to make up for the spoiled bunch, not yet. And I doubt there will be, given that they probably make examples of anyone who speaks up." That or quietly shut them out of power, where they can make no real lasting change. Her mind shifts to the dwarves and she shrugs. "They know why they're dwindling, but it doesn't change things. They'd rather keep their precious traditions than admit they're failing. That way, they get to the the martyrs that hold back the darkspawn, right? Nevermind that there are always more. All too many assholes in Thedas need a punch in the face and a reminder that traditions that strangle us instead of help us are fucking pointless. Think that ought to be a new Canticle? 'Stop following stupid traditions blindly, they're fucking stupid and will fuck you up'?"

"Anyone could stick something they cut off a druffalo to the head of something and call it a day. Isn't there a thing running around with a sword shoved through it? Up it? Nasir was unclear on the location of the sword so I picture it wherever the fuck it's funniest." And you really, really don't want to imagine what Yngvi imagines sometimes regarding that supposed horse when he's having to deal with people he hates because you'd probably ship him off somewhere in a barrel Korrin.

Tossing the flask up in the air he chews on his lip, huffing out through his nose when the cold catches him because this is kind of a bad plan until he just moves round a bit...bit more, a little-- there. Windbreak. The few good things about tall folk. "I know dwarves get on well with them in Tevinter, Orzammar probably has shit going on they'd never let folk know about because you know they're not going to want to let themselves miss out on something like that. D'you know right-- the whole thing about castes and stuff? I never know how much you actually know about it. Because people don't think I know about it. Humans usually, but lots of other dwarves think I don't either. They get all Dalish about things." But he's getting off his point here, loosened up by too many things and he does want to know because the best and worst thing about Asher is he took him out of Kirkwall and away from the Carta.

Got him thinking, got him seeing, told him that it was okay. Bit of a dangerous thing that, only he's really starting to find it out now when there's no Asher around anymore to talk about it with.

"Oh, Maker, the Bog Unicorn." Korrin huffs, her warm breath clashing with the cool air. "It's shoved through the head, that's how it earned the name. Creepy thing is fucking creepy, though as far as I know it's not actually hurt anyone.

...if I get you drunk enough, think I can dare you to ride it?" Sure, he might be crazy enough to do it anyway, but incentive never hurts. And they're severely lacking for entertainment, lately.

Fidgeting more to keep warm than because she's just that restless, the Vashoth woman stares off, thoughtful. "I know you can't change castes, right? No matter what, you're born into a caste and stuck with it unless you get banished or something." And no, she doesn't sound like she cares for the idea. It seems almost Qunari to her, already deciding people's fates for them. "Which must really suck for those at the bottom. No wonder so many leave."

Why they didn't all just leave with their middle fingers raised at the paragons, Korrin doesn't know. Maybe all those ancestral ties, something she's never had, really do make a difference somehow. Or maybe it's as she said and stupid traditions are stupid and have people in a rut.

"That's more boring than what I had in mind, but I might borrow it." You heard nothing if he borrows it, this conversation never happened if he borrows it, you got that Korrin. "Unless I was with you the whole time, you and your lady feeding me candied whatevers, you make that bit up, you know fancy foods better than me."

Yngvi knows food. Doesn't really care about it unless it gets to go in his mouth or he has to care for a job so there's that. Unless it's Orzammar stuff because he'll reject that on principle.

Making a face, he leans back against her since he's wrapped in furs so he's a warm short lump, and she's more than strong enough to deal with him being too tired to properly stand up right now. "You can rise up if you do it right. Someone gets named a paragon then all their household is suddenly raised up but how often do paragons happen? And look what they name? Paragon the off-her-tits? Easier way is noble-hunting. Because Orzammar is hurting for babies, and people want better for themselves, and caste follows parentage. So casteless girls try to find a noble patron, get a child with them and hope it'll be a boy. If it's a boy? Gets his caste, she gets raised up, everyone else in her household would go with so imagine all the shady lot that'd go too but say a woman higher up had a boy to someone lower. People get tossed out, lose their caste. Met folk on the surface who got out because it was starve, abandon the child to die, or go to the Deep Roads. That type of shit. But people care, I don't know, s'pose your family is family, I mean if something happened to Gunnar I'd give a rat's arse."

How many times did one of them get into trouble for the other, get a sound thrashing for it, or sneak half their measly dinner to the other when one was supposed to miss it for something they did wrong?

After a while when he realises he's lost in his own head, he gives himself a shake, tipping himself back so he can peer up at her even when his head swims. "Asher kept going home y'know. Like all that time. Didn't you and Mal go to the Holdings sometimes? He got kicked out but he still went back to that house that he hated for other people he cared about who didn't care 'bout him much, well all but Aura. S'not like it's rational."

"...and if they have a girl, it's another casteless and future noble-hunter? What a fucked-up system.

I've seen that whole irrational thing, for all I don't get it. My parents used to look across the sea to where Par Vollen was. They didn't want to go back, they made that clear, but Tama said it was still hard to cut yourself off from the past completely." Korrin shrugs, still not certain if she'll ever understand when her 'home' was always the road and the company her parents were part of. Home as a set place, let alone as one that people would be obligated to remain no matter how unpleasant, is foreign to her. "...yeah, we did sometimes. If I'd known as much about Asher's mom then as I do now, I don't think I would've had it in me to be civil. He must've known that." As for Mal's manners, she's sure those would have been sorely tested as well.

Her jaw clenches for a moment, but she tries to hold back those darker thoughts since it'll do her no good to give into them. "Okay, hotshot, what did you have in mind, then? Do I at least get warning?"

"Well if she has a baby in enough time. D'you think rich noble girls are the only ones getting all the right lessons to snare rich men?" The snort is too soft, too sad. At least he's known the ones that managed to join the Carta instead of ending up worse places or dead, though they tend to say that dead is better than some places and Yngvi goes with them because he's not really in a place to disagree on that account is he now?

"I never had that. I was always Kirkwall. Me and Gunnar, we were definitely always Kirkwall, not a bit of us knew a bit of shine from Orzammar unless we were taking it out of there to put it to better use for ourselves or we were doing a job. Oldtimers knew it, lot of them, but you know how many mothers and fathers I've got since I'm pedigreed. I'm a Tamassran's wet dream." A Tamassran's worst nightmare but don't ruin that for him, he wants to hold onto one day presenting his mess of a life to a proper one and watching her crumble just so he can solve the Qunari invasion. This is his dream. "Asher was smart."

That remark he allows to hang there for a minute or two. Fond and aching and awful.

"Asher didn't like folk knowing he was smart, bad for business for them to know he was smart. He was slower picking that one up than any of the rest of us but he had a cushier life at first than the rest of the strays he got." And that's not some cheap shot at Asher because he'd have been the first one to admit it compared to his little band so Yngvi doesn't know why he feels bad when it comes out.

So anyway, circling back around, all mock-innocence because what do you think he's easy? "Excuse me? Did I miss something or are you confusing me with another dwarf because that's hurtful, and you should know better, what were we literally just discussing?"

Korrin nods with sad fondness at mention of Asher, a small wry smile forming on her lips. "Mal and I knew, to some extent. Every so often, usually when there wasn't anyone to show off in front of, he would say something that showed he was a lot sharper than he let on. But I'm used to that kind of thing, since humans tend to assume qunari are near-mindless brutes. It pays to be underestimated, but it sucks at the same time. I bet Tama would have liked him. You, I dunno."

Tama usually likes people who eat and appreciate her cooking, and who can handle themselves. On the other hand, Yngvi can annoy anyone with enough exposure. And even at Tama's age, that's not the smartest thing to do given that she still has one hell of a throwing arm.

She smirks a little as that mock-innocence is ripe for teasing. "Confuse you for another dwarf? Not possible. For better or worse, you'll always stand out...probably in a way that has Asher groaning all the way from the afterlife."

"She'd fucking love me, don't be so rude, old ladies love me. Look how skinny I am, they always want to go feeding up poor waifs and that's what I am under these furs." He's just not going to go stripping off up here because he's very attached to his nipples thanks very much. "We don't go to Rivain unless it's really urgent, respect to Nasir because he has to go scouting about alone. Same as your lot wouldn't be going off to Seheron. Or other bits of Rivain, bits of Rivain are all Qunari now too. Makes trading hard for the family."

He means the Carta when he says that, sometimes it gets muddled when he can be referring to three separate families at any given moment (Aura and the hold, the Boneflayers, the Carta) for anyone that isn't him and used to the juggling.

There's a punch aimed at her. Not very hard because Korrin would probably go for him back just as hard and he's not really in the mood for it right now but he can't not. "Nah, y'know when there's a foul wind? Not that kind of foul wind? Just a normal one, like when there's a weird lingering fog that makes everything smell odd and stuff? That's Asher. Honestly, read a book." He learned this shit Korrin, disgraceful, listen to him tutting at you like some old Chantry biddy.

Of course Korrin just stands there and takes the punch because she's a solid brick wall like that and snickers. That she's wrapped up in furs and such only means she has extra padding to absorb the blow. "You'd rather think of as a smelly fog? ...though his namesake has that covered, sometimes. I'll have to pass that on to Mal, bet he'd love it. I'm more partial to the 'groaning old man' kind of wind for him, myself. Every time you hear it, you know he thinks you're being a little shit."

She straightens as though expecting to hear a judgmental wind at that very moment. The battlements aren't lacking for wind anyway, but it's louder than the sort she has in mind. "You're not wrong about her wanting to fatten you up, she'd be shaking her head and getting read to make some spicy meal big enough to feed an army. Maybe one day I can get her to the Free Marches to see my parents, but I wouldn't expect her in the south. She says it's too damn cold for her old bones. Hell, it's too cold for mine." Southerners are too tolerant of terrible climates, and not enough nearly heat-tolerant enough. They're so weird like that.

"I mean a foul wind that doesn't come from your arse, that's what Asher is. Dark and stormy night things, come screaming through the tent threatening to take what bits of roof Skyhold's still got. That's Asher. Weird shit like that. Still think you're trying to outdo my brood, you trying to say something with that overgrown lump?"

He doesn't really understand the appeal of them if he's honest but they didn't even ride horses unless they had to in the Boneflayers so mounts aren't a part of his life.

Snorting, he shakes his head. "Thought she was a Qunari once? We have old ladies where I come from, down in the undercity and they don't whinge about the cold in their joints."

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