faderift | You drink the wise blood [Open]

WHO: Kaisa and whoever wants to hang out
WHAT: Kaisa's back from her mission and getting used to Kirkwall and also being Senior Warden
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: Around Kirkwall
NOTES: n/a for now

Hanged Man

It's always been in Kaisa's experience that the first place you go in a new town is the tavern. That is where you're going to get a feel for the pulse of the town, what the people are like, what the gossip is. And how Wardens are going to be generally accepted, because that's been up in the air lately. So, after being gone for what felt like ages, it's only natural the first place she shows up is the Hanged Man. She's in her casual clothes, just in case, but there's no denying that it's a warrior that strolls into the bar like it's her own house, an easy grin on her face.

She doesn't look particularly worse for wear, at least. A little leaner, a little more tired, a brand new scar crossing her collarbone. But her grin is just as energized as it always is, her presence just as loud and apparent, even when she doesn't say anything.

And she doesn't say anything, just yet. Instead, she spends a few moments glancing from bench to beer-soaked bench, and then swaggers on over to the bar, plopping down. It's only after she places her order that she turns back to the tavern.

"Sooo. Who wants to hear a story that is at least 50% true, and 100% awesome?"

Chapel

The chapel in the biggest tower is nice, certainly. Bigger and prettier. But there's a quiet stillness to the smaller chapels that Kaisa likes. She may be loud the vast majority of the time, but when it comes to her religion, she appreciates a chance for quiet peace. It's rarely the same time of day, each trip she makes, but always at odd hours. Too late, too early, right smack in the middle of the day.

And once in a while, she shows up with some kind of decor for the chapel. Nothing fancy or particularly expensive, just things like a string of dried rose heads, or replacing candles nearly burnt up with new ones. It's the little things, really.

After she's finished adding whatever trinket she'd managed to get a hold of, she kneels in front of the altar for a minute or two, before stepping back to the benches. There, she sits silently for some time, staring contemplatively into the distance.

Teren

There's one thing weighing on her chest, after her conversation with Nathaniel. A worry nagging at the back of her mind. Eventually, it's decided that there's only one thing to do, which is exactly what Kaisa usually does in uncertain situations--stand tall and face it head on, with all the poise and delicacy as a druffalo in a pottery store.

So, a few days after her arrival in Kirkwall, she tracks down wherever Teren might be, and throws her arms in the air.

"Teren! I'm baaack! Did you miss me? Did you cry?"

Wildcard!

Throw something totally different at me! Or talk to me and we can come up with something.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Shhi —"

She startles, a bundle of — something — almost leaps from her hands, censors herself just in time.

"Ah, forgive me," Wren steps back, demeanor still uncertain. She's been dozing on her feet a touch, lost in thought, and. Well. Kaisa looked just a little bit like a statue, all folded into the dim light. "I did not, I do not mean to disturb."

This one's usually empty. At least it ought to be, at this time of night.

Kaisa jolts, just a little, when Wren just pops out of nowhere. But she's quick to turn and analyze the woman. Another warrior, but she doesn't seem to be here to throw down in the middle of the chapel, so it's okay to relax a little. Of course, that doesn't mean that a little shit-giving is out of the question.

"I think the only soul you're disturbing around here is the Maker's, throwing out words that ain't fit for his ears, yeah?" Despite the reproach, Kaisa says it with an easy, casual air, the smile on her lips hinting that it probably shouldn't be taken too seriously. It's not like Kaisa's a Chantry mother, after all.

"But don't worry, I'm not disturbed or anythin'." She continues, and flops onto a bench. Look at how undisturbed she is. "And I reckon he'll probably forgive you, so you're all good."

"I must get his attention somehow," A joke, but it's still a touch too thrown to affect its proper dryness. "With so many prayers about, how else to be heard?"

The smile she offers is delayed, slight, and genuine. A signal of its own. But her head dips faintly, respectfully, because some habits die hard — and because at this time of night, it's difficult to imagine Kaisa's here as anything but a believer.

If she's one with a sense of humour, the better. Wren shifts the bundle under an arm (a box wrapped in cloth), moves towards the altar within. The flowers, the candles,

Neutrally: "It has been years since this place saw such care."

Edited 2017-05-10 05:07 (UTC)

"Not a lot of prayers this time of night, but hey. Whatever gets the job done, yeah?" Kaisa's reply is nonchalant, so apparently she isn't offended, at least. Not that Kaisa can't get offended, but it takes a little more than a dirty mouth and wry remarks to do that, or she'd have to call herself out all the damn time.

Wren's next comment draws a thoughtful look, and Kaisa turns to study the altar a little bit. "No, I expect not," She murmurs, voice unusually soft and contemplative. "Even when this place was still in use, I suppose. Maybe if it had seen more use from the people here, we wouldn't be in here at all." Meredith had spouted a lot of nonsense about the Maker and doing what was for the Greater Good, but Kaisa found it hard to believe wanton slaughter was wholly approved by the Maker. Especially she hadn't even bothered to go through the official Chantry channels. Maybe if both she and Orsino had spent a little more time getting in touch with the Maker, they wouldn't have been so quick to go to panic and burn the city mode.

"But," She continues after a pause, casually glancing around her. "Dunno where they'd have shoved us, in that scenario. Camping on the Viscount's front lawn? Had enough room."

A glance back,

"Is there not a haunted mountain somewhere hereabouts? I suppose that might meet requirements,"

Space to spread out. Horrors and demons. Etcetera.

Wren's not inclined to believe the Gallows required any further inspiration for zealotry, but she can hold her tongue. For every quick-tempered member of the devout, there are others; she has served beside them. She may not believe, but she does believe it matters. She considers:

"We all sing the same verses," A polite fiction, with translations and versions too numerous to name. "But our hearts hear them differently, no?"

She slips the lid from the box, withdraws a little wood-carved Andraste. Wren sets it carefully upon the altar, below its larger twin — a similar style, a similar pose, but not a precise copy.

"The Chant was given for a guide. There is a way within it, but we are the ones who must walk the path."

"Maker's--breath, don't give the Inquisition ideas." The struggle to not blaspheme right there in the sanctuary is a challenging one, but she manages to stick to Blasphemy Lite™. Well, Wren is obviously not a Chantry Sister, so it'll probably be good enough. "Give 'em a couple months, I'm sure they'll be sending us off to take care of those ghosts and ghoulies, too." Not that Kaisa actually participated in any of the spooky extractions of the Gallows, she'd been busy off on her Super Important Warden Mission. Which, honestly, she was thankful for.

"I suppose, but your heart has to be pretty fuckin' deaf to think that the Maker wants some of the shit that went down here. So I guess they'd have to spend time here, and like. Contemplate, yanno? Shut their mouths and try t' actually listen." She flops bonelessly into a pew, and contemplates the mini Andraste that Wren puts up, before giving it an approving nod. It's a nice gesture, one that Kaisa is glad to see from people other than herself.

"Blind following without thinkin' has gotten people into a whole lotta shit, yanno? They don't stop to think, geez, maybe I'm taking this too literally, maybe the Maker wouldn't want me going around acting like a giant douchelord." She waves her hand around, frowning. The intricacies of theological debate were never something Kaisa had a good grip on, and prolonged debate of them was something she generally tried to avoid. But there were things that just seemed obvious to her. The Maker is supposed to love His children, and parents generally don't like it with their children try to mass murder other children.

Wren turns to lean against the wall, box tucked discreetly aside once more. She can't mirror Kaisa's slackness in the way that she'd like to. She's just not made for it. But she's tired, and she came here to a purpose now delayed,

So perhaps it's not so difficult to slump, to allow the stones to take her weight.

"At times, I think, to listen one must first be heard. Silence is a boon to contemplation, when we might seek it for ourselves."

"But to seek it for others?"

She rubs at her jaw, unhappily. It would be easier to navigate these matters (stay politic, never show too much of oneself) if she'd a clearer idea of her own mind. The Gallows are failure writ large; no party is blameless, but some? Some rather less so than others.

"For all those who did not heed the Maker here, there are as many who did not heed each other. The Inquisition presents a rare opportunity, in this."

Where else do they put elves in charge? Where else is everyone forced to work together — or at least to try?

Not a state of affairs that can last. Not one to be squandered.

You drink the wise blood [Open]

chapel;

no subject

regretting now we didn't thread chapel brawl 2k17

its never too late to throw down

no subject

no subject

no subject