faderift | In the turning of the seasons, in life and death

WHO: Church, Malcolm, Rachette, YOU
WHAT: Present timeline catch-all
WHEN: Guardian /wiggly hand
WHERE: Up down all around Skyhold
NOTES: Nab me on plurk if you want a specific starter

Church is starting to spend a lot more time in the tavern than he ever did before. Sometimes he's just hanging around, taking some notes. Sometimes he's cleaning up tables with a rag. Sometimes you can actually see him in the back doing what may or may not be actual work. Crazy! He's also spending quite a bit of time around the stables, trying really hard not to look intimidated by the steeds, learning to put on saddles, and you may even see him up on one. This is madness. This is Skyhold.

Rachette does a lot of training, whether it's with her blades, doing her best to cut up a dummy, or doing sick backflips off walls or generally trying to get her parkour on, or at a table with a bunch of scrap fiddling with traps. She's also fond of going out hunting. You can perhaps find her debating with a merchant about the price of turning a rabbit pelt into a pair of gloves or a nice hat. She sometimes hangs nearby classes without trying to look like she's actually sitting in. Learning but not like...being a nerd okay shut up who likes learning not her.

Malcolm hovers around the healer tents more than he ever usually does, either visiting those injured or getting injuries checked up on. He also seems to be making a point of starting to see if there's anything he can do to help despite not being a healer. His training has more to do with keeping the skills he does have sharp, whether through archery (where he has an interesting new bow that hasn't made an appearance yet), or working out, or sparring. He's willing to give advice to people that seek it. And as ever, there's always some point where he can be seen around the kennels or otherwise being with is poodle companion Milady, playing, training, being at least mildly adorable.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You're out of the broken ones,"

Alan leans over the little cabinet of drinkware. Skyhold's collection is mismatched, to say the least; if enough around these parts carry their own tankards, there are as many like to forget them later. The Inquisition can't afford to quibble over a noblemen's donated gift of actual-glass-glasses, or the sturdier mugs that make for more standard fare.

He points to the back of it.

"Only one shard left."

It's something of a joke, though said plainly enough that it's likely hard to tell. He's been hanging around most of the afternoon, not drinking, not precisely getting in the way. The kind of not-getting-in-the-way that ends up feeling more like it for anticipation.

"Weird guy thinks he's a funnyman," Church drawls with a little roll of his eyes but a smirk tugging on his lips. "Maybe you should introduce stand-up comedy to the tavern. Might be better than the bard who likes singing the same songs again and again."

Which, honestly, just gets tuned out after a while, or at least until the guy takes a break or gets shooed out for a time. Alan's been hanging about. And. Not doing a whole lot. And it's kind of weird. "I could even supply the audience with some tomatoes from the kitchen, y'know, for throwing." Like...like a jester, they have jesters here, right, or...he doesn't actually know??

"Be careful. They may mix us up."

Because... jokes. There's no way in the Void they'll otherwise ever be confused.

"Is it important that you stand for it?" He shuts the drawer, moves on to inspecting a stack of plates, turning them over in his hands like a mirror. "The comedy."

Church is rummaging through the utensils because, look, he's never going to claim to be the cleanest or tidiest person, but if people running this place could maybe keep the forks with forks and the spoons with spoons and etc, that would make things easier!

"...Huh. I mean it's...it's called stand-up comedy, so I guess the moving around keeps people engaged? But there's no reason you couldn't sit."

Alan nods, sagely. He absolutely hasn't been rearranging the utensils according to level of tarnish. That's probably someone else. Yes.

"I suppose running would be even better for it, then. Though you might be out of breath. A chair with wheels?"

A spoon clatters back down into the drawer, because holy shit, Alan. "Office chair racing." Please stop giving him stupid modern ideas to implement in Thedas, Alan. Alan, why do you say these things, Alan.

"Or...wheelchairs, too, but those are for like...sick people. But office chairs! Chairs with wheels! Yeah, yeah, and you can just roll around your room instead of getting up all the time, and if you're really bored, you get a couple people pushing people in chairs and have a race down the hall!"

They totally didn't do that in the base all the time or anything.

"I mean, it, y'know, wouldn't really work that well for stand-up unless it's part of a joke, but man..."

"Wouldn’t they all be wheelchairs?" His brow furrows faintly. A glance up from the plates. "Whether or not you were sick?"

Healers usually don’t want you moving if you’re sick. Though it’s not like they’d get very far up stairs and snow, so maybe.

"Races, though. They could be sort of like miniature carts.”

He sets down the stack, moving to rummage in a pocket. Eventually he comes up with: a tiny carved antler, a glossy black seedpod, and a spare nail. The last he holds up for a better view.

It's a proposition. Not that he has the faintest idea how a cart is constructed.

"Kart racing! Man, you're just full of id...e.......as."

He could go on about wheelchairs and office chairs and wheelbarrow races and go karts, but then he's got weird pocket change that isn't change in his hand. And Church stares.

".......I mean. That's not a cart. Or a thing you can race with. Buddy."

Sometimes he understands Alan. Sometimes he does not.

Alan lifts his eyebrows, seems a little surprised himself. It takes a moment for the disconnect to... connect. He shakes his head, wiggles the nail as though this elucidates matters. Like. At all.

"No, for building them. What do you think we'd need?"

"Oh! Well, fuck, in that case, we might wanna talk to, like...someone that knows how to actually build these things. Like. Wagons and carts and shit. Because I don't know the first thing, but we'll definitely need more nails and we'd need wood and we'd need wheels." And he might have spent some time rebuilding Skyhold and knows as well as any dumbass how to swing a hammer, but if you tell him to build one, it's gonna be the ugliest piece of shit that probably won't even go anywhere. "The experts."

"Wheel experts."

Alan sounds that one out, adding the nail to a drawer (iron, no shine at all, that goes with the skillet).

"How do you think we find one of those?"

"Experts in these things! Not just wheels. Things with wheels. C'mon, there are all kinds of stupid experts, maybe there are specific wheel experts. Experts in wheels. I don't know!" That nail is not going to stay there, but he'll get back to that later. "Put up an advertisement? Ask around?"

"Can we hang it in here, do you think? The advertisement?"

Wheel experts sought: Enquire within.

"Should it have pictures?"

In the turning of the seasons, in life and death

aaaaand church, tavern

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