faderift | Life in Camp Shady Fuckers

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Life in Camp Shady Fuckers

WHO: Everyone living in or visiting the Warden camp
WHAT: Just some low-key action-spammy stuff for a bunch of sketchy losers who got tossed into the camp for sketchy losers. And the people who come to hang out because sketchy losers are the coolest losers.
WHEN: Vaguely stretching around Cloudreach?? Nothing is set in stone, time is an illusion
WHERE: ~~Camp Shady Fuckers~~ The Warden camp
NOTES: Just throw whatever warnings necessary in the heads of your threads

Just throw opens or whatever up this is a low-key general mingly kinda thing for hanging out and shouting at each other. Feel free to interrupt other threads or whatever and idk man this is basically like a network post but in real life.

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She stares at him in mild exasperation, and sighs. "Very well," she says, "then who is it for? I'll need his measurements."

"Well, he isn't here," he tells her, with the air of a man about to launch into a very long and complicated story. "You see, he is traveling, still. But when he arrives? This is the shirt that he will need! I can guess at his measurings for you, I am sure of it--or I can send word to his manservant to secure these measurings. The second of these will take some time. Do you have the patience for the waiting? I so rarely do. This is why I do not write letters: I cannot stand to wait for the replying!"

And, you know. He can't really write.

This is growing more and more suspicious by the moment. Teren watches Scipio flatly, lips pursed, waiting for him to stop talking long enough that she can inquire further. Or... comment, in this case.
"If he's not a Warden, he'll have to pay for it," she informs him.

"Of course, of course!" He waves a hand, dismissing the very notion of the man in question not paying. "And pay he will! Say no more! He can well afford the changing and the dying of a single shirt!"

And perhaps the conversation would end here, except a thought then occurs to Scipio: "But-- to a Warden, this would be free?"

Seeing that she will need to elaborate further, Teren narrows her eyes slightly. "Uniforms," she clarifies, "uniforms and garments worn with them are my duty to mend. Others require payment."

"Of course uniforms," as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. "Without payment, I would not ask you to work your fine fingers to fine bones for anything but uniforms. But it does so happen, Teren," in case you were wondering, "I do have a uniform that is in need of mending."

A smile, instead of please. Look how endearing, this smile! If she isn't endeared yet, she may someday be. It is up to Scipio to continue to try to thaw her with smiles.

Thawing Teren is easier said than done. She watches Scipio, her patience running thin, waiting for him to get to the point. "Then bring it over when you've got a moment," she says flatly, and looks back down at what she was doing, considering the matter closed.

"Really?" Scipio considers this a moment. Then he shrugs. "Well, it is cold, but--"

Quickly, he tugs at the ties of his first cloak, and then his second, one-handed. His other hand is occupied with tugging his shirt free where it's tucked in so, when divested of his cloaks, he can grab the hem and tug it off.

Which he does.

"Aggkhk." It's cold. He holds the shirt out to Teren all the same. "You see, the rip, it is here, along th-the side--"

"Not now, you idiot boy!"
When he holds the shirt out, Teren away incredulously. "Put it back on before you catch your death. Andraste help us." She actually sounds a bit angry, as opposed to the usual neutral curtness. "Put on a different shirt and then bring it to me."
She goes back to her sewing for a moment, shaking her head. "How has he made it this long," she mutters to herself.

A little helplessly, Scipio looks at the shirt. His free hand has become less free, as it is engaged in the present business of keeping his cloaks pinched closed, holding in all the warmth possible.

"But I only have this one shirt." Genuine scolding is worse than cold. No, that isn't true: the only thing worse than cold is shirtless cold. Only a few months here in Skyhold, and already his skin has turned to icy white, as if he is becoming frozen. "You cannot stitch it while I wear it, can you? This is what I tried, and I had Rafa try it too, but he is not so good with the needle."

"No." Even if she could, Teren refuses, because she has doubts Scipio will ever hold still enough to be a decent mannequin. Instead, she roots through her bag to find a shirt still in need of mending, and tosses it to him. "Put this on," she commands, "I'll move onto yours after this one. Come back later in the afternoon."

Gratefully, Scipio catches the shirt. While it is true that he has lived leanly, in his past, he is unused to clothes with holes, and he has grown to be unused to not having the coin to buy many new shirts, in many colors. He is not above charity when he has warmth to gain from it, so he maneuvers his cloaks around so he can pull the shirt on.

It takes some doing, as he tries to stay as covered by the cloaks as he can while pulling a shirt over his head. The huff of his breath suggests at his effort. But--at last!--he has his charity shirt on, a success he punctuates with an aha!

When he leaps to his feet, smooth and suave and very coordinated, he holds his hand out to Teren, expectantly. What he expects is her hand in return, which he indicates by pointing, and holding his hand out again with a smile. They must, of course, shake on this.

Considering it is actually someone else's shirt, Teren will no doubt demand it back, but he can mess it up all he wants before she mends it. Or... well, hopefully he won't, but it's better than giving him one that's already fixed up.

Noticing his hand, she extends her own to shake it, a bit confusedly. "Later, then," she murmurs, casting him a funny look and returning to her stitching.

It's probably for the best that she's quick about returning to her stitching, or else Scipio might have tried to kiss her hand. She's brisk, which forces him to be brisk, too.

And anyways, there's always time for hand-kissing later. He gives her a salute, then tugs at his shirt of temporary charity and strolls away, whistling.

He quite likes Teren. Wait till he tells Rafa that she will repair their clothes for free.

UNIFORMS

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