faderift | What's My Scene

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What's My Scene

WHO: Jamie and anyone who wants to bother him
WHAT: Experiments and Bagpipes and Fights, oh my!
WHEN: Roundabout nowish
WHERE: Kirkwall, The Wounded Coast
NOTES: Possible violence, probable questions, faint chance of bagpipes, definite Hoodoo Guru lyrics

Poking At Your Experiments
Being part of the group working with the rifts meant that Jamie wound up closing a fair few of them, but there was more to the project than simply that. The veil being as thin as it was in Kirkwall meant it was a good place to try out all sorts of things in an effort to see how the veil or the marks would react. While Jamie wasn't really the scientific sort, he was still a rifter and able to take part in whatever experiments other people came up with - even if that part involved him standing around and handing over various containers and tubes or whatever bits and pieces people were asking for.

That didn't mean that he had to sit there and do it quietly, though, and more often than not when he'd gotten drawn into playing assistant he wound up peering at whatever it was the other person was doing and occasionally reaching out a curious finger to see if he could get away at poking at some of the more gadget-like objects. Even if he couldn't get away with that, though, it wasn't about to stop him from asking questions...like he was doing now.

"So what's that do, then?"

The Wild Piper Of The Wounded Coast
The Inquisition quarters by the docks weren't really the best place for piping. They were crowded on the best of days, and even if Jamie'd been able to stay by himself in his shared room the walls were too far too thin for any proper playing to be done. The fact that he'd had to take in a new roommate once the Doctor'd disappeared simply meant that aside from the odd bit of maintenance, his pipes tended not to see the light of day.

Away from the city was a different story, however. He was already of the mind that further away he was able to get away from the city, the better it was, which is why he'd volunteered to go with this particular group tasked with gathering herbs along the Wounded Coast. The fact that it meant that he'd also be able to get to bring his pipes was an added bonus - but so far he hadn't had a chance to play anything. Instead, he was currently stuck with the task of hauling the plants that they'd found back to the main part of camp, and as he sets the latest box down, it was with just a touch of impatience. This part of things he'd be more than glad to be done with. Assuming, of course, that he'd get the chance to actually be done and not get roped into doing something else, but the only way to find that out was to ask.

"Here, are we done for now? Or is there anything else you wanted before I head off for a bit?"

Song Of The City At Night
Many places in Kirkwall were dangerous, especially once the sun set. While the criminals weren't necessarily as brazen as they once had been, the unwary could all-too-easily find themselves a target of one - or more - of the unsavory elements that called the city home. Even those who paid attention to their surroundings could find themselves surrounded in turn, something that Jamie had found out the hard way when a small group of thugs stepped out to block his path. Still, he wasn't daunted. No McCrimmon had backed down from a fight yet, and he wasn't about to start now. He had his reflexes, he had his dirk...and chances were if he was loud enough, he'd get somebody's attention. Whether or not it was somebody who'd be willing to help him remained to be seen, but he went ahead and raised his voice anyway, just to see what'd happen.

"Think you can take me down, do you? Aye, well, I wager you're in for a surprise."

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Usually Morrigan would head off alone for whatever it is that she might require, unafraid of unfamiliar places or whatever reputation they might hold; the Fifth Blight, the Crossroads, elven ruins, and never forget the Orlesian Court, well it all had that effect after growing up in the rather infamous Korcari Wilds. But a group afforded being able to relax more than she might, to take in things missed when keeping the ears pricked up (sometimes literally, sometimes not) for danger so she'd tagged along.

Maybe not the most welcome of guests but no one can say no to someone able to take care of themselves and everyone else with them.

Watching Jamie out the corner of her eye, she smirks, tucking a slender plant inside one of her notebooks for later. "Whenever I have seen young men in a hurry to leave camp, there has been some-- how did Oghren put it? - Pike-twirling involved." And yes she says that as slowly as Morrigan can say anything, drawing out every syllable, every pause, taking her time checking that box in case she might want it.

"Pike-"

Trust Oghren to come up with something like that, even if it's not that much of a surprise, given what he knows of the dwarf. Morrigan, on the other hand, he doesn't know at all - but not knowing her isn't about to stop his mouth from pulling indignantly off to one side, which it does about three seconds later.

"Och, that's not it at all. Can't a man have a wee bit of peace around here without having people question it?"

Or insinuate things, for that matter, which he's starting to suspect given the way she's drawing out her words. Either that - or she's having him on, which means that either way his mouth is going to stay firmly tugged off to one side while he makes a brief gesture towards the herbs he'd gathered earlier.

"Look, do you want the box or not? It's not sorted yet, but I've no been shirking. There's plenty in there that's useful."

Young men are always interesting to watch in the same way it's interesting to watch a wild animal; you know enough about them to hazard a guess but you don't know what goes on inside the head that makes you tilt your own to the side as if that might make you understand them better.

"Alistair," dry, still somehow lofty as if she's somewhere very far-off from all this, "was quite accomplished by the time 'twas at an end."

More than you wanted to know about Alistair, more than Alistair wanted you to know about Alistair, she'd wager.

"Peace does rather depend on your definition of it, does it not? Some men shall never have peace. They shall stalk it all their lives, reach for it with hands outstretched, grasp and grab yet ever shall it slip through their fingers. Your being here is proof enough of how little peace there is." Morrigan rises, stretches out the pop in her back (no one likes to admit to getting old but at least the stories will speak of The Witch of the Wilds, daughter of Flemeth then arcane advisor and she can quietly slip back out of them again) as she makes to inspect them. "The wind on the Wounded Coast blows and Free Marcher mothers will say your face will stay that way young man."

She's told Kieran that. Anyway-- "There are a few things I had hoped we might find here that we have not, likely further off the beaten track."

Way more than he wants to know. On the plus side for Alistair it's the sort of knowing that Jamie is going to stuff far, far back in his mind and never let see the light of day again, so neither one of them will have to worry about coming up at some unexpected time. The comment about his face freezing the way it is, on the other hand, is something he's heard plenty of times before, although at least this time there's at least something different thrown in. His reaction is still more or less the same, even with that - which is to say his mouth twists a bit more and he winds up with an expression that's the exact opposite of what he actually winds up saying.

"Ha ha, very funny."

Still, that sort of expression never winds up lingering long with him, and it's only a matter of seconds before his face smooths back out again into something more like its usual self, only with a touch of something thoughtful added in. She's not wrong about how little peace there actually is throughout Thedas - and, more specifically, here as well. If she's gotten it in her mind to go wandering off looking for things off the beaten path, it'll be risky. And even though a part of him knows full well that she'll likely be able to take care of herself (and any bandits unfortunate enough to come across her path), there's another part of him that knows he'll never forgive himself if he lets her do that and something goes wrong.

With a sigh, he resigns himself to not getting to play the pipes for awhile longer and goes over to fetch a satchel and sling it across his body. If they're going off the beaten track, it'll be easier to carry plants in - and keep his hands free if trouble does turn up.

"Alright, then, let's go find these things of yours. Hope you know where we're going to start, though, because I'm thinking if it's off the beaten track we've got more than few places to choose from there."

Very good Jamie, let it sit there and fester until perhaps there's an unfortunate drinking game or another deep dark terrible piece of knowledge and the lesser of two evils must come out.

"Should you chance to spend much time in Ferelden, what great many wisdoms you'll hear from the old soothsayers."

Still, she does prefer this to Kirkwall as she ever does. Even as isolated as Skyhold was for most of the world and even when she had thought she craved contact with so many away from the Wilds, growing up so very alone then surrounded by so many people? More than tiring, it wearies her. Kirkwall is so much worse with the added insult of their lodgings being the Gallows, being forced to stay where mages were once confined when she never submitted to one before so she needs this. Even if there are probably many things with teeth and claws and bodies made of little more than the Fade itself on the prowl. At least the worst of the Tal-Vashoth will be gone though the Qunari would have more ire for her than those who left the Qun would but honestly she'd rather not chance it outside of those who've chosen to join with the Inquisition.

"Do bring that curious thing of yours," she comments as she dusts herself off, tucking the notebook shut to tuck into one of her pouches. "I seek the Harlot's Blush Flower, some grow near the mouths of caves."

This is a serious plant required for serious reasons.

The look Jamie sends Morrigan's way at the name of the flower is more than a little bit skeptical, because he's not sure that he believes there's any such flower. However, if by 'curious thing' she means his bagpipes, then that's alright, then - and he'll be more than willing to go along with whatever flower-gathering she wants to do.

Of course, she could mean something completely different by "thing", but he can't imagine what else would even come close to qualifying - and as it is, the bag that holds his pipes is near enough that it's not a problem for him to grab that too before heading back to Morrigan and indicating for her to lead on with a nod of his head. It's not long before he winds up giving in to a little bit of his curiosity, though, and even though he's keeping an eye out for trouble, he does risk just the briefest glance back over at her.

"So what do you want with that Harlot's Blush flower, anyway? I mean, what's it good for?"

Morrigan's experience with instruments is limited mostly to bards and the lutes they carry with them, such was Leliana's way and long does the trend continue even now. Whatever the thing he has with him is, she wants to know, eyes having clapped upon it as a magpie might with some bright glimmer when on the wing and she uses her staff to secure her footing. (Looser stands and shale, clinging where scrubby grasses grow aren't where elven ruins tend to be. Unfamiliar at last.)

The air here is thick with salt in a way she isn't used to either, fresher as they start to climb and she likes it more than in the city where everything is so stale. The press of stone and bodies, always a cooking smell or someone's mess, the stench of the taverns or whatever someone's brewing. Lothering was interesting as a girl but still small, remote. Nothing like what's been thrust upon them.

"Tis a very rare flower, I noted they had none in the gardens. I hope to be here long enough that it might grow for cuttings and to carry seeds for when I depart," Morrigan explains without actually really explaining because Dragon Age 2 doesn't actually tell you what that herb is used for so thanks for nothing, Herbalist's Tasks.

For his part, the footing's not so unfamiliar as all that, and even if he gets ahead of himself a bit and occasionally slips... Well, he's not unfamiliar with that either, and the worst that happens is a bit of shale gets knocked awry as he quickly manages to regain his footing, rather than falling and going arse over kilt instead. (Which is probably lucky, all things considered.)

And as it so happens, getting explanations that don't really explain much have happened a time or two before in his life, which means he's willing to accept what Morrigan says at face value - for the most part.

"How long you do expect us to be here, then? I mean, if this flower's got to grow before you can get cuttings and seeds, seems to me that unless we get lucky and find something already mature enough we'll be here for ages. Unless you've got some sort of trick up your sleeve, that is."

Edited 2017-07-27 06:05 (UTC)

"The Inquisition spent over a year and a half in Skyhold, indeed, I had expected it to remain there for the duration." Skyhold might not have been the choice location for all but there was a history there, a power, something about it that spoke to the very core of a person if they knew how to stop and listen just so. "There are ways to encourage plants to grow, herbalism is one of my talents."

(Morrigan is also a liar when she needs or wants to be since herbalism is a country mile from being a Keeper but what would a rifter know of a Chasind-looking woman's sort of herbalism in the first place?)

"Much of what grows already should not grow where we have brought it. Wilds flowers do not grow outside of bogs and marshes where the soil is darker and wetter, the air cool and thick yet I have made them grow in Skyhold where to breathe too quickly on some days set those familiar with warmer climes to choking." A smile at that because isn't it funny to watch the Orlesians or the Nevarrans having to struggle like the rest of the world does, not so high and mighty after all. "Is it such an arcane mystery where you hail from, this growing of plants? Is that why you chose to venture out to this forsaken place this day to broaden the horizons?"

"A mystery?" There's an outright snort from him at that, although he manages - barely - to not give into the urge to say that it's daft. He doesn't know how much she knows about the rifters and their worlds, after all. Even if he thinks it's daft, he knows he should probably give her the benefit of the doubt for now. "Och, no. Plants grow just fine where I come from."

It's true, though, that he doesn't know what a Chasind-looking woman's sort of herbalism is. Of course, he doesn't really know what a Chasind is, either, so all he really has to go on is the herbalism, and since there's not any herbalism he knows that can get things to grow faster, he's just going to lump it together with magic and call it a day.

"There's no magic, though, so the only way you're going to be able to get plants to grow in places they oughtn't is through that science stuff. And they'll no grow overnight unless they're some terrible weed monster."

Like weed monsters do, but hat's neither here nor there as far as he's concerned, and as he picks his way over another loose piece of shale, he shrugs.

"That's not got anything to do why I'm out here, though. I came to help. And...aye, well, maybe to get away from the city a bit. For reasons."

"There are plants that will grow best where the Veil is thin but I will not muddle what I know with rifter...science." The pause is for the unfamiliarity of the word in her mouth. "You are fortunate then, if you must only suffer the weeds that grow that can be pulled up and out root and stem."

How much simpler it must be. To not have to do things like this - they're getting closer, she came here just for this after all - and carry a seed store with you, to find them wherever you go and take up precious little space. To have to learn what you might make and substitute wherever you travel. Yes, it serves her well but try teaching it to a child. That the thing that helps him might hurt. That those two things like so alike but one might speed him to whatever lies beyond.

"You are not fond of Kirkwall?" And before she can get an answer she sighs, rolls her shoulders back as if it might ease the tension that seems to live in them these days and under the base of her skull. "The noise. The people. The being crammed in with no moment of peace to oneself. I find it...trying. In Skyhold one might truly escape, in Kirkwall? Someone might always find me." All the better for when she can live outside the city limits even if she has to fly or run to it to work, she hates it. Orlais was-- Orlais was necessary for what she had to accomplish. And Orlais was not a former Circle where she could feel the weight of it upon her.

"Aye, well, there was that weed monster," he points out. There'd been that, and a couple of other plant-based creatures he'd run across before. In the end, though, he supposes it doesn't make all that much of a difference. The monsters'd been defeated, and in his experience, the rest was just as she'd said. Weeds that grow like normal, everyday weeds. And plants that don't have to be gathered to try and be coaxed into growing places they don't normally grow - although he supposes there were some somewhere back home. He doesn't really know about those, though, and maybe that does make him fortunate, to not have to worry about it.

Or have had to worry about it, because it's different now. He'shere, the same as she is, and going through some of the same things - like being crammed into a space he doesn't really want to be where he could be found whether he likes it or not, and he finds himself nodding in agreement more than once as she winds up answering her own question.

"Aye, that's it, exactly. No matter where you go, there's someone else who's right there, even if all you want to do is go someplace where you can get in a wee bit of playing without having to worry if your pipes are going to start a panic. I don't see why we had to all come here in the first place, thin veil or no thin veil. They could've left us be where we were."

"Perhaps one day more shall come across sylvans." Not the Grand Oak, not that irritating creature, never again. Was it not galling enough to have to suffer the poor rhymes once, did they have to go to it again to save the life of a member of the Inquisition and Leliana at that? But as much as Morrigan loves the wilds she can't say she loves sylvans because she's not a fool, she's been attacked by them more than once and it hurts, oh does it hurt to have a possessed tree decided to roar and catch you up in a cage of bark as it crushes you before someone hacks at it and you set it on fire.

Honestly, that there aren't any in Sundermount thus far has been one of the more surprising parts of her exploratory trips there. Even if not exclusively elven, it's a place of old death and battle, a wild place. If there was a place where sylvans might start to just stroll out? It would be there.

"I believe that the Inquisition thinks it might achieve something of substance. In a place with few friends. In easier reach of enemies. Being a creature with too many heads that snap at one another and too many legs tripping over themselves, unfit to be seen in public," that's very uncharitable but out here on the Wounded Coast as the rest of the party fades into the distance the higher they climb who's going to hear her say the words but Jamie? "What pipes would cause such a panic? How would pipes cause a panic?" Please explain young man, it's a little better than remembering what a monumentally bad idea being in Kirkwall is for literally the whole Inquisition in her mind.

While he's not entirely clear on what a sylvan is, from what she's saying he's inclined to think that it's at least got something in common with that weed creature - and if that's so, he hopes that they don't wind up turning up any time soon.

There's nothing close to a weed creature where they are currently, though, and since that's the case, he's also inclined not to worry about it too much at the moment. If they did turn up...well, he'd deal with that then. For now, he simply jerked a thumb towards the extra bag he'd brought with them.

"My bagpipes. They...ah, well, let's just say they're no everyone's favorite instrument, although I like them just fine. I take it you'd not managed to hear me play them while we were back at Skyhold, then?"

"My quarters and studies were by the gardens, 'twas peaceful, very little chance of disturbance or chatter carrying." Which is to say that as much as possible, Morrigan was alone if she wasn't required for something or seeking out the company herself, used to such a life, used to just her and Kieran, preferring it that way. "When possible I would venture to the woods, so many people in such a space 'twas...well, now 'tis dearly missed."

She spies her quarry as she speaks, thinking of harvesting winter mushrooms with her fingers numb to the bone and a basket hooked over her elbow, of introducing Ellana to the joys of flight beneath the branches, a chance meeting with the Outsider after making a kill as the spoke about bone when he was troubled not by a raven studying him before she returned to her own shape.

Working carefully, she turns to look at this 'bagpipe' he speaks of. "I have suffered Orlesian bards and their insipid simpering, these bagpipes you speak of cannot be worse than that."

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What's My Scene

wounded coast; lbr she'd prefer pike-twirling

understandably so

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