Malcom Reynolds (
aintwejust) wrote in
faderift2015-12-20 10:24 pm
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Entry tags:
Take my love, Take my land
WHO: Malcolm Reynolds, Jayne the Mabari and You!
WHAT: Malcolm rides in with a Mabari and Mail for the Inquisition
WHEN: 20th of Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Anyone that wants a letter or a package that can be carried in a pair of saddlebags is welcome to claim some good or trinket or something from Malcolm, he's been wandering this way for awhile. Brackets or Prose are good.
WHAT: Malcolm rides in with a Mabari and Mail for the Inquisition
WHEN: 20th of Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Anyone that wants a letter or a package that can be carried in a pair of saddlebags is welcome to claim some good or trinket or something from Malcolm, he's been wandering this way for awhile. Brackets or Prose are good.
So here's how it is.
A man, a horse, a bag of mail and a grumpy Mabari wandering right up the road to Skyhold. The dog's a dark brown, the horse is a warm brown, and the man's a muddied brown on account of all the foutu mud he's been riding through all the live long day on the way up to this mighty fine hold. Fort. Ruin.
Honestly it's more the last than either of the other two, the battlements a little worn and ragged and the gate itself kinda questionable. Were it not for the many wonderful things said about this establishment and it's Inquisition Mal'd be entertaining second thoughts. Arlight if he's honest he's already entertaining second, third, and fifth thoughts but he's got a powerful need to be here and here's where he's gotten paid to drop off a lotta letters and packages of various value and weight. He's not about to back out of a decent, legitimate job when he's been paid.
Well-
He sighs and urges the horse onward through the gates, clicking his tongue to bring the Mabari to heel. Or. Trying to. The dog's got a mind of it's own and trots about,sniffling and snuffling at anyone in the immediate area that may or may not have food. If they've got food? He starts pawing. Or gnawing. Much to the exasperation of the muddied man on the bay. "For the last time you gourmand petit sac de merde, leave 'em alone."
If snapping at the dog doesn't work he leans out with his heel and nudges the Mabari with his boot- or he hefts the butt of his spear and knocks him upside the head. It works well enough.
If spared the hound and horse he's found wandering around the courtyard, handing out letters while still trying to mind said horse and hound- horse following at his heel better than the hound tends to.
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Since she really only gets mail from two people in the clan, she doesn't expect letters all the time, but she wanders over anyway, just to see. Perhaps today will be her lucky day.
"Hello," she greets gently, always wary of first impressions with humans. "Would you happen to have a letter for Ellana Ashara?"
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The horse is nudged away gently- the mabari? Not so much. He gets a boot which gets a grunt- but Mal's wrist is freed up easily. "Here you go. Might be more than paper in there, feels kinda heavy."
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"Really?" she asks, taking the letter and recognizing Atisha's handwriting. "I can't imagine what." She squeezes the letter, trying to guess.
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It takes a full booted shove against the Mabari's side to get him to move over. Idiot. "It ain't food I can say that much. Jayne'd have been all over it otherwise."
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"No, she wouldn't send food. The clan has to save all it can, especially in the colder months." Besides, probably the only thing that would keep and fit in an envelope would be jerky, and she knows a mabari would go mad trying to tear into it.
"Are you from Orlais?" she asks, tucking the letter behind her belt. "Those words you said -- I don't understand them, but I thought they sounded Orlesian."
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"Who, me? Naw." Light and drawling, more dwarven in it's sound though his height and bearing mark him far from dwarfish. "Not Orlesian at all. Just picked up bits 'round here and there. Enough people speak it roundabouts where I grew that it stuck with me."
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"Where did you grow up, if you don't mind me asking?" It sounds like there could be an interesting story there, and Ellana loves stories about the lives of others. They're all exciting in their own way, because they've had different experiences than she's had in her own life.
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It was her first time away from the clan, her first time on a ship, her first time seeing humans, dwarves, qunari, and elves from the cities. There's still so much of the world to see, but she's had a decent start.
"I also went to the Fallow Mire, so I know all about the mud."
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"See'n as you didn't get drowned in all that boggy water I suppose whatever saw you down there got seen to?" Dalish are good at that, seeing things get done. Or leastaways the ones he's met.
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Seems a little...governingish, for his taste.
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"Now we have scouting parties in Emprise du Lion (her pronunciation is terrible) and the Western Approach. There has been troubling news coming out of each area."
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Maybe.
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It's something she doesn't feel the Chantry is doing, but as a Dalish elf, she won't even say anything about that.
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"Once you've finished with the mail, would you like me to show you around? Perhaps the kitchen first? You must be hungry after your ride here."
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A particular kind of strangeness he doesn't rightly wanna spread around.
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"There's no one person in charge, but there are some people I could suggest to you. Is it something a spymaster would want to hear? Or a commander of forces? Or something to do with politics, like what you would need an ambassador for?"
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Honestly it's probably a mage thing but he'd rather not duck into that mess unless he truly need to.
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Honestly he's got things to do and sticking around the Inquisition while they try to wrap bandages around the gutwound of the world ain't exactly one of them.
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"You're say'n my hand is some kinda magic now?" What kind of nugshit is this?
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"Well, I'm saying it's capable of something that certainly seems like it. But that doesn't make you a mage; just in possession of something we don't fully understand yet."
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