faderift | { open } I left the only home I knew

WHO: Alfsigr and you
WHAT: Various activities about Skyhold
WHEN: Throughout Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
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By this point Alfsigr has more or less settled in to life at Skyhold, though she still isn't precisely sure where she fits in the grand scheme of the Inquisition.

She's not quite an academic or scholar, though she spends a good amount of time in the library reading just about anything she can get her hands on. Whether it's an educational text or a work of fiction. (She's read Hard in Hightown half a dozen times at least. Consequently, any time she happens to occupy the same space as the book's author, she gets just a little bit giddy, even if she tries really hard not to let on.)

She's no herbalist, but she helps tend to the various plants in the courtyard all the same. While they don't exactly thrive under her care, she hasn't killed one yet, so that's a plus.

She's certainly no spirit healer, and so far as anyone knows, she's no battlemage. She doesn't even have her own staff, but she makes due with what she can borrow from the stores when it comes time to practice. It isn't that she isn't enthusiastic about her craft, but she seems reserved. Like she might actually be afraid of what she could do, except that isn't quite it either.

She's no drinker, either. Despite all continued efforts at it. She spends a decent amount of time in the tavern - she finds the people terribly interesting, and she enjoys the taste of wine even when it's not great wine. But she doesn't hold that wine well. Half a glass in and she's usually rosy cheeked, slightly drowsy, and definitely giggly. One day she'll giggle in the wrong person's direction.

So, Alfsigr knows all the things she isn't. Surely that should eliminate enough to tell her what she is. No? Well, no matter. Nothing seems to dampen the young woman's spirit as she passes through the various public areas of Skyhold, inquisitive but quiet, seemingly without desire to cause a nuisance of herself, unless spoken to.

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A chance to really speak with another Dalish, one who got to stay among the people, is a rare opportunity. Not quite so rare these days, here in Skyhold, but not something so present at home in Kinloch Hold.

She has to remind herself that the Circle is no longer her home. It may never be her home again. Claiming Skyhold might be her home feels like trespass somehow. The Inquisition has accepted her with open arms, however, and it's as good a place as any to rest her head and try to find a purpose. The garden is one of her favorite places. The ground is hard beneath her feet, but it feels right. She wants to wiggle her toes in the earth, but refrains. She tries not to track mud into the hold, it just makes more work for someone else. Frolicking is right out, of course, but her excitement is boundless, and she bounces a little restlessly, waiting to catch sight of the Dalish who's agreed to tell her stories.

Cyril isn't entirely certain who he is looking for, but he assumes she'l let herself be known when he comes out in the garden.

He does feel comforted by being in this place. It's strange to see it growing so well up here in the mountains and the fact that it's managed to thrive fills him with a real sense of home.

It's not like it's uncommon to see one of the dalish in the gardens, but most of them don't tend to look as if they're looking for someone. It helps Alfsigr spot him. She approaches with a spring in her step and a broad smile.

"Are... you the one I spoke to? Well, wrote to?"

"I believe so. I'm Cyril." He offers her his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The offered hand is taken and shook lightly. "I'm Alfsigr." She clasps her hands together behind her back and leans forward a little, excited. "Where is your clan from? What are they like?"

He smiles at her excitement. "We wander the Free Marches," he explains. "And.. we're family. Many of us lost our parents when a plague hit our Clan, since then we've worked together and grew up together."

That causes her to smile. Family is nice. She misses family - both the one she came by through blood and the one through magic. "My mother's clan traveled Ferelden." She pauses a moment, brow furrowing. "I suspect they may still, but I've not seen them since the end of the Blight."

He nods, thoughtfully. "Many Dalish left in a hurry once that started. The Free Marches became home to many Fereldan Clans." Then, with sincere sympathy. "I'm sure they miss you. It's difficult to be away from your children."

Alfsigr smiles sadly. "Our Keeper decided I was better off left to the Templars, to live in the Circle." Her head bows slightly, and she allows her hair to fall forward and obscure the visual signs that the pain still lingers. "If my mother protested, she did not do so in front of me."

Cyril frowns deeply at that. His Keeper had kept an extra mage, endangering herself in the process, rather than send one of the clan away. It was probably different for someone who was half blooded though. Still, it seemed so cold.

"I apologize if I brought up bad memories," he said. Then, after a moment, "I'm here to answer questions for you. What would you like to know?"

{ open } I left the only home I knew

Garden » Cyril

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