faderift | And as we wind on down the road

And as we wind on down the road

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: The Herald of Andraste is laid to rest, and the remains of the Inquisition try to put on a good face for their visitors. Some of them try, anyway.
WHEN: Harvestmere 26
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: n/a

The day after the mysterious strangers from the rift arrive, the Herald's body is delivered back to Skyhold. At first, there is doubt-- the timing is convenient, finally found the very day the funeral is to take place, and many still cling to hope that the Herald has somehow survived. Most, but not all, are appeased by news that the Inquisition's chief advisers have all confirmed the identity of the deceased. Preparations are accelerated: what was once to be a symbolic memorial now requires actual rites, and while some prepare the body others break down whatever can be spared for the pyre, constructed in the center of the main courtyard by another crew.

The funeral itself is a somber affair, as funerals generally are. The Great Hall has been cleared and swept but little else-- all attendees stand, and they are lucky it is a clear day, since the late afternoon sun streams in through the gaping holes in the roof. The service proceeds along strictly traditional Andrastian lines, stately and stiff. Mother Giselle provides the service and the sermon, focusing on duty, sacrifice, and the Maker's plan and concluded with a recitation of Transfigurations 10:1 by the whole assemblage. It is all very predictable, but sincerely delivered. Cassandra and Cullen lead the honor guard. It is a mismatched collection of visiting dignitaries, suspicious observers, pilgrims, colleagues, and companions that slowly process up to pay their silent respects as Evelyn Trevelyan lies in state. Some may notice that the body has been carefully arranged to disguise the fact that her left hand is gone. As night falls they light candles and then the pyre, and as the flames catch and lick up toward the star-washed sky, Mother Giselle sings a haunting version of the Chantry hymn The Dawn Will Come.

The wake that follows is less staid. It seems as if every table and chair in the castle has been dragged into The Herald's Rest and the courtyards and every hidden store of fine wine and food has been dug out from Josephine's secret stores to impress the more exalted visitors. This isn't just a funeral, after all, but a political occasion, an opportunity to demonstrate that the Inquisition lives on beyond the loss of its first symbolic leader, and that it can still be a force for peace and unity.

That impression is dented as the night wears on, and opinions and stories get shared more and more loudly. Someone hops up on a table to give their own little eulogy and others follow suit. Of course eventually it turns sour-- a templar gets up and starts blaming the mages for killing the Herald just like they killed the Divine, and mages at the next table shout back. He's hauled down before things can escalate, but grumbling and dirty looks are unlikely to be the last of it.

The event carries on into the wee hours, and noise echoes around the stone walls loudly enough to make it difficult for any to sleep early. One team of Inquisition scouts and soldiers comes out of the barn to complain more than once, and eventually move their bedrolls down into a basement hall, growling about how they have to be up at the crack of dawn to head out on a mission to scout some Maker-forsaken bog of all the places. (Mire, one of them corrects.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's a bit busy getting himself upright to be impressed at Beleth vaulting over the stall door. He can hear her moving around, but doesn't pay too much attention, more intent on feeling the back of his head. The squeak from the plush does make him pause, and slowly Sam looks up to see Beleth standing there next to him.

What was she thinking? Apparently thinking about poking him.

Sam gives a huff as he's poked and prodded. At her concern he stretches a bit; sore. "I'm fine. You startled me is all," he finishes for her. Tilting his head from one side to the other, he feels it give a bit of a pop. "Yeah. I was. Why?" He raises a brow in return.

So maybe saying Sam should try and sleep off the alcohol wasn't the best idea; Krem had spent a while finishing the plush he'd been working on when Sam had arrived, and eventually had come to the conclusion that talking should have been something they'd done a long time ago. So here he is, following after where he'd seen Sam going, dressed a lot less formally. He'd had to find somewhere to leave his collection of completed nugs and had ended up stopping in Cullen's little office space, writing him a note and making off with a change of clothes. He approaches the stables in slightly too large breeches and a plain undershirt, picking some at his nails. He's about to speak up and announce his presence, when he catches voices inside.

"Were you talking to the hart?"

Oh. Beleth's in there too. And she's talking to Sam. Best not to intrude... But then there's a hint of paranoia: what if he says something to the elf about what just happened? He was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to live with the shame.

Ok he would, but it would be a lot harder to face either of them without putting on a very professional, rather unfriendly face to do so.

First, though, he has to actually hear what's going on before he jumps to more conclusions and says something incredibly stupid in front of both the boy making his chest do stupid fluttery things, and one very cute elf also making his chest do stupid fluttery things when he thinks of the possibility of her deciding to avoid him.

Beleth has no idea they're being overheard. Instead, she just focuses at the poking and prodding, ignoring Sam's complaining huffs. Having determined that he hasn't managed to break something or rattle anything loose that hadn't already been loose, she stopped subjecting him to her prodding fingers, and instead settled on staring at him judgmentally.

"You know, I've spent plenty of time with the hart, and I have to tell you, it's not very good conversation." She informed him, then paused. There was a question hanging in the air. Namely, why she had been hanging out with the hart instead of...not a hart. "It were shouting templars in the tavern. Tempers getting high. Someone punched Gavin. I got him fixed up, then I left before someone decided to try it for me, too." She pursed her lips, glancing off.

"I thought a stall would be a safe place to stay. In case the people getting riled up didn't stick to the tavern." It might be paranoia, but Beleth has a scar across her face because of the hate of humans, and she's not keen to add to it. The reactions to her note on the bulletin board didn't help--She'd stayed anonymous, but it wasn't hard to figure out, if you studied it. It'd made her a little jumpy since then.

"...Why are you out here? Same reason? Not wanting them to get after a mage?"

Sam is glad when Beleth finally gives up her insistent prodding. Not like he's a healer or anything and could take care of it if there was an issue. The judgmental stare isn't much better though. He was just making idle conversation with the hart. Was it THAT bad?

Of course there was some curiosity as to why Beleth was out here. In one of the stable stalls in the first place. Considering recent events though Sam doesn't think it's a good idea to ques- oh she was telling him.

Through the explanation Sam finds himself leaning back ever so slightly, especially when Beleth swings the plaid nug a little too close to his face during her tangent. He's not entirely shocked to hear that there had been issues, but he is honestly surprised and a bit worried that Beleth feels attacked. And what was that about Gavin? Someone punched him? He doesn't have enough time to process it all before she turns back to him and asks why he's there.

Why was he here? Not because of a certain Charger. No.

"I left the tavern a while ago. I can tolerate a lot, but even I have my limits." Sam looks at what he's wearing at that point. A lot of people didn't think of him as a mage, but with his current outfit he'd easily be picked out for one. "I've just been wandering around... clearing my head."

Listening to Beleth talk, Krem slumped. He really should have been there in the tavern, not avoiding it like a damned coward. Maybe he could have helped with crowd control, kept Gavin from getting hurt, maybe set a proper example. He leaned against the outside wall with his hands in the pockets of his borrowed breeches, looking down at the stone underfoot. What a shit night...

Sam's refusal to talk about what happened before wasn't helping. He really had messed up, telling him to go and sleep it off. Hopefully Beleth could be a comfort, or at least wouldn't pick on him.

Sam will soon learn that there Beleth has two conversation modes: Polite and inconsequential chatter, and can't shut the fuck up. She's nervous, and that's not helping. Even now, outside of the stall, purple eyes that reflect in the dim lighting flicker around occasionally, making sure that no one that approaches looks particularly dangerous.

He seems...more upset than she would have suspected, but then, he was a mage. With templars yelling about how mages killed the divine.

She settled down across from Sam, leaning against the stall. "I understand. This place...feels like a powder keg. A sack that someone stuffed with potatoes, and you can see the seams pulling, and it's like one wrong move, and the seams will just...burst open." She sighed, looking down at the nug, and squeezing it. Squeak. Squeak squeak. Despite herself, a little pile rose to her cheeks.

"Where did you get this? It's adorable." And she reached over to hand it back to Sam.

Sam gives an amused snort at the metaphor. Really, a sack of potatoes with faulty seams? He's not laughing at it or her, he just finds the imagine amusing. Specifically if he imagined himself in a sack of potatoes - they didn't make bags that big.

When the squeaking starts up Sam freezes, his eyes darting up towards the plush. Of course she would ask about it.

At seeing the nug being handed over, Sam slowly reaches over and takes it, looking it in the eyes when he leans back. The real reason he was currently here staring him right in the face. Sam finds himself blushing again, though it only reddens his cheek a bit considering they were red from the cold - that's his story and he's sticking with it!

"This? I got it from Kr- the Lieutenant." A sigh. It wasn't like he couldn't say his name. Just... obviously he needed to take a step back.

Beleth gives a little huff at Sam when he snorts, giving him a hard prod with her finger. She had thought that it was a great metaphor, excuse you.

But then he's taking the nug, and her eyes focus on his reaction to it. He seems to be...less pleased about the nug than she would have thought someone would be. At least...she thought it was pretty cute. Maybe he just wasn't a fan of nugs? But then he wouldn't have taken it back, would he? Unless he didn't want to insult the person who gave it to him.

She wasn't sure what to make of it.

But then Sam tells her who it's from, and her eyes grow wide. "Krem? He made that? That--That's really cute. He's really talented, huh? I mean--I've seen, ah. Seen you training with him before. So you know how good of a fighter he is. And, ah. He's good at making nugs too, I guess...A lot of things." She's rambling. Creators preserve her stupid mouth. She snaps said stupid mouth shut, glancing off to the side.

"...I mean. A lot of people are. Good at things, I mean. Lots of things. It's neat to see all the people here who are." Pause. "Good at things."

Sam raises a brow, looking up from the plush, to watch Beleth as she falls into rambling. He's seen her nervously rant, but this is different. She's excited, but timid. As soon as she had heard about Krem.

He just sits and silently watches as Beleth scrambles with her words. At mentioning that she watches the two of them train has Sam tilting his head curiously. Regardless though her rantings are focused on the Charger. It's very clear that Beleth has a thing for Krem, the way she stumbles through her sentences, though he can't figure out to what extent. He sighs at that; not exactly what he wanted to deal with after... that.

"They are cute. I'm sure if you went and asked him he'd give you one."

"Oh--Would he?" She asked, glancing at it again. Maybe. Maybe she'll ask someone else to do it. Gavin was a good candidate--He liked Krem, got along well with him. And he was sociable. It'd be pretty easy to get him to do it. "Ah, well. I guess I'll think about it." Play it cool, Beleth. Play it cool.

Then there was silence in the air, and Beleth felt an awkwardness settle between them. She's not sure where it came from, but she suspects that she did something weird. Probably complimenting the nug, or something like that. He did seem to have some issues with the nug--the sigh doesn't help.

The elf fidgets with the edge of her scarf, almost pulling it into her mouth to chew on it--Wait, shit, no, Sam's still watching, and that's gross. The scarf is pulled down before any chewing can take place. "--I'm sorry. Whatever I did." Maybe apologizing was the best course of action. Maybe he'd explain what she did. Maybe he'd forgive her. "I wasn't trying to--I'm sorry."

"I don't know why you're apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong." All said with a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Beleth was sweet, and he rather enjoyed her company, but she still was decently hesitant around him. She seemed more comfortable with him as of late though, which was nice.

Placing the nug in his lap, Sam sits forward, resting his chin on one hand. Beleth was probably sensing his melancholy and thinking it was over her. "I just have a lot on my mind is all. I did something stupid and probably made a fool of myself." He pauses with Beleth looking at him. "Bigger fool."

It was getting harder for Krem to stand, just sitting out here against the wall with his arms wrapped around himself to stave off the chill. Listening to the two of them, he's certain that he's fucked up. He finally peeks around the door, clearing his throat quietly then just picking himself up and stepping in.

"Think we can talk?" he asks, looking up at Sam, then at Beleth. "I'll give him back soon."

She's tilting her head at Sam when he mentions that he's done something stupid, and is about to reply that he probably hasn't done anything that bad, when Krem shows up out of nowhere. Beleth starts a little at his sudden appearance, but gives him a warm smile. Until he asks for Sam.

Hesitantly, she looks to Sam. Then to Krem. Then to Sam. Then back at Krem. Oh. Oh. That--That's what this was. That's what Sam was upset about. She remembers the way that they interacted in the tavern, and oh. Dear Creators. She'd just made a huge fool of herself to Sam, talking that way--Dread Wolf take her, she was an idiot. At least, maybe, hopefully, she could prevent doing the same to Krem.

"Yeah, I was, um. I was leaving. So you can keep him! I mean, for talking." Smooth.

He's just as startled as Beleth when Krem magically - heh - appears out of nowhere. Well not out of nowhere, he had been behind the door. Apparently sitting there based on how he moved to get up after clearing his throat. Just how long had he been sitting there?

Also what in Andraste's name was Krem wearing? That certainly not the uniform he had on before, and it was much too big for him. With that in mind that's when Sam notices Beleth looking between the two of them then looking even more uncomfortable. Maker, he honestly hopes she's not assuming anything by this. Not that it wasn't a bad imag- nothing like that happened okay?

With a heavy sigh, Sam gets to his feet and plops the nug plush on Beleth's head before she could run off. "You don't have to leave. You were here first anyways. We're just going to go talk." He raises a brow at Krem at that note before smiling back at Beleth. "Hold onto that for me, alright?"

Krem can see you looking at his clothes Sam, don't you dare judge. He wants to ask Beleth not to leave, but now that he's standing there in front of Sam, words aren't exactly wanting to form. He takes Sam's elbow and leads him a little further into the stable, lowering his voice.

"It's about earlier," he finally blurts, one hand rubbing up across the side of his neck. "If you don't want to talk about it it's fine, but I just... I wanted to let you know I wasn't just sending you away. But when lady Adelaide showed up and I had to stop and think about what what was happening, and, well. Taking advantage of you's not something that'd sit well with me. When your even a little drunk isn't exactly the right time for...y'know. I wanted you to sleep it off and then...I dunno."

Beleth noticed his clothes as well, and it doesn't help to the wild conclusions she's jumping to. She's ready to take off and run somewhere, a quiet place she can sort through her feelings. Or try to take her feelings and stomp them down. But she's suddenly handed a plaid nug and asked to hold onto it, and she's stuck standing there, looking like a startled deer.

Then she's left alone with the nug and the wild hart.

She sighs, closing her eyes and leaning against the hart's neck. It gave a quiet beep, turning to sniff at her, then inspect the nug, giving a little start when Beleth squeaked it. Once it was sure that the strange creature wasn't a threat, it went back to minding its own business, a task that she should probably emulate.

Could've been worse, she supposed. At least she hadn't said anything to anyone. Got any stupid ideas. Sam and him were cute together, anyway. Hardly a big deal.

"I've half a mind to keep you." She informed the nug, squeaking it a few more times.

It is rather awkward when Krem starts leading him off. Actually it was more awkward considering they were walking away from Beleth. Even if it was just for a moment he had seen something, and the look she had given them when they walked off didn't make him particular happy. It was being kind of mean to her.

Course his thoughts didn't linger on that for long, not with how Krem turns on him and right out mentions he wants to talk about... before. Obviously he wanted to, but there was no easing into it. He had thought he understood what happened before, but now with Krem rambling - this was new - he didn't know what to think.

Which often led him to becoming a bit stubborn.

Sam sighs when Krem finishes and frowns slightly. He isn't angry, but he's obviously not thrilled. "I wasn't drunk," he huffs. Tipsy perhaps, but he isn't drunk. He shakes his head, that wasn't the point. "Well I don't know either. What... what do you want me to say- do right now? You're saying you didn't send me away, but you told me to leave... and now you want to talk." Another sigh, this time Sam puts a hand on his face and rubs it in some frustration. "I don't just go around kissing people, Krem. Look, I'm sorry if I put you in a bad spot. I won't do it again if that's what you're getting at."

Edited 2015-11-04 08:32 (UTC)

"It's not like that," Krem huffs in return, holding himself back from punching Sam in the arm for not listening. It wasn't Sam's fault that he isn't a mind reader, or that Krem isn't good at putting his thoughts into words when he was particularly vexed. "My point's that I didn't want to just go ahead and kiss you and then start doubting either of our judgment until it spun itself out in my head until everything was broken." His hand does come up at that point, but only to rake back through his hair, scratching at it in his frustration. It fell across his brow, making his appearance all the more disheveled.

"Can we just try again or something? Or would you rather I just left now?" he sighed, looking up at Sam with a pout.

It's not like that, he says. Well what was it like then? Before he could ask just that, Krem continued to plow on with his words, quickly causing Sam to snap his jaw shut in surprise. Maybe he was a bit drunk, because Krem had just admitted that he wanted to have kissed? Scratch that, Krem was asking if they could try again?

He knows he should be answering this considering that along with 'try again' there is 'should I just leave', but Sam finds himself having a hard time with words at the moment. He's not sure if it is on purpose or if it is completely by accident, but he cannot tear his eyes away at the image that is Krem at that moment. Standing there in clothes too big for him, hair disheveled, and pouting. Yes, pouting.

Sam knows he's blushing, a bit overwhelmed by the words and the way Krem is looking at him, and at feeling how warm his cheeks are getting he has to turn his head away, just so he can think. Nervously he rubs the back of his neck. "I... would rather like to try... kissing you again."

If it weren't quite so dim this far back in the stables, Krem might see just how red Sam was turning, and his own blush would have been just as obvious. The way Sam says that, getting quieter, as if it were merely an afterthought, it's disgustingly cute. It reminds him of instances as a child, sneaking away with other children to get into mischief.

This is different, but not entirely, and the train of thought makes Krem smile faintly as one hand curls into the front of Sam's robes, pulling him down gently until their faces are level. He can hear the squeaking of the plush in Beleth's hand, adding another layer of mild absurdity to the scene.

Holding his breath to keep it from tickling, Krem finally closes the gap, lips pressing into Sam's, his own dry and somewhat chapped against the other man's.

He cannot hear the squeaking. Actually he cannot hear much of anything save for the tempo of his pulse drumming in his ears, which only increased when he felt a hand twisting the front of his robes. That probably was a good thing because the absurd sound would more than likely send him into a fit of nervous laughter.

Sam allows himself to be pulled forward easily, noting how much he has to lean in the back of his mind. With the light as dim as it is, he feels more than sees when Krem presses forward to him, the light brush of skin making him take in a breath through his nose.

The kiss is simple, just the press of lips, but it's enough that Sam lets out the tiniest of noises. His own lips were not much better than Krem's, but with worrying them during his walk they were a bit softer.

For a moment he isn't quite sure what to do with his hands. Slowly, and cautiously though he raises one and lightly settles it along the side of Krem's head. Just lets it sit there without curling or anything, quietly seeing if it is allowed.

There is a temptation to push, to deepen the kiss, but Krem is nothing if not very, very good at controlling himself. He leans his head into that touch briefly, pressing into the kiss then drawing away, his hand falling away from Sam's collar.

With a clearing of the throat, Krem reaches up, tossing Sam's hair back away from his forehead, ruffling it in a teasing fashion then turning back toward where Beleth was still playing with the plush and the hart. He has an idea of what to make for her, when he's finished with the rest of his project. If he can find properly purple cloth, and someone to carve horns.

"You must have been having some excellent conversation with your friend here," he says quite calmly, holding a hand up for the hart to nose at.

Her eyes are closed, and she's doing her best to not listen, to not pay attention to anything else. So when Krem speaks, too close to be ignored, she nearly topples over. The nug gives a loud squeak in protest. She quickly straightened up, back to being a deer in the headlights. She glances between Sam and Krem, and then back to Krem, because he's talking to you, idiot.

"Yes. Very much so." She assures him, then stares down at the nug, and shoves it at Sam with more force than strictly necessary, not looking at the man. No, that's not going to do, she has to be polite, she has to handle this calmly. She's an adult. She's an adult and she's going to act like an adult, and not like some teenager at arlathvhen.

She turns to face Krem, nodding at him. "I'm, ah. Sorry. For...Well. I didn't know that you guys were. Um. Like that." Smooth. She should have written it down and passed him the note. "But you guys look really happy together. And I'm happy for you." Better. Now to escape. "But I've got...things. To do. Over there." Over there being literally any location that is not here. "Important things. So, uh. Congratulations. I'll tell Cy you're off limits." Hah! A hilarious joke to end it on. Nailed it. She'll just start scooting out of the stables, trying to think of another location that would also be safe from erstwhile humans. Maybe on the barn roof.

It was a bit too short for his liking, and as much as he wants to explore this new... thing a bit more, Sam knows not to push it. It had been something on his mind for a while now, ever pressing the more time he spent with the other man, but always kept hidden out of insecurity. It had been a slip that he had tried on the battlements, the supposed rejection weighing on him heavily. The fact that Krem had come looking for him and replicated the feelings to a point? His chest felt tight in how content he felt by knowing that.

He smiles slightly at the feel of his hair being ruffled, enjoying it more than he'll admit at the moment. It would have been great to revel in this moment for a bit longer but-

'Squeak'

And suddenly Sam finds himself feeling kind of... awful, when he follows Krem back over to where they had left Beleth, more so when she shoves the nug into his chest while he's straightening out his hair. Even if he wanted to be happy, it didn't seem fair for someone to feel bad. But he doesn't know what to say. That the two of them weren't like that? Honestly it had just happened, but then would that be sending a wrong signal at Krem?

And then Beleth is mentioning Cyril. He's not sure who the comment is being directed to, but regardless it makes Sam stand a bit straighter and the blush on his face a bit brighter.

The more Beleth fidgets and stammers, the more Krem is sure that kissing Sam might have been a terrible idea. The elf might have been trying to play it off like she was happy for them both, but Krem can tell that she's unhappy with the new developments.

Without letting his expression waver, he shakes his head, gesturing Beleth over to the two of them. "Please, stay. This is your place, after all." He pauses and flinches a bit when the hart turns and snorts at the side of his head, spraying him in a fine mist of what he sincerely hoped was only spit. "Alright it's his place, but still."

And as we wind on down the road

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)