faderift | (no subject)

WHO: Alejandro Borges
WHAT: Alejandro is in the Undercroft making shit, you can come bother him.
WHEN: Catch-all for Bloomingtide
WHERE: Skyhold Undercroft
NOTES: Alejandro.

OPEN

It's been an eventful time in the Inquisition, and even though he's not been in any field missions -- nor does he really intend to be anytime soon -- there's enough that goes on in Skyhold for anyone to be preoccupied. Whether it's damned mage terrorists hanging around being smug dicks, or a random bizarre illness sweeping over the residents because of weird-as-fuck armor, nothing stays quiet for long.

One day, shit will stop being weird and he'll go back to Antiva or something.

That'll be the day.

But today, specifically, Alejandro is working away, focused on a crafting what seems to be a little soldier figurine of sorts. The figurine is clamped in his prosthetic arm while his real hand is working on the finer details.

ZEVRAN

A simple note had been left for his old friend.

Zev,

Your shit's finished. Come say hello and I'll show you the details.

- Alejandro

Which is true enough. After working on Zevran's request and several bumps in the road, he's developed some things he feels fairly proud of to share. That, and a little something for Zevran himself, if he wants it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

His introduction was just slightly awkward. There was something in that brief moment of hesitation, where he reached to take her hand, before he thought better of it, that disarms her. Perhaps she is at ease because he is a smith, perhaps it is the smithy itself that calms her, but she decided to trade freely in this knowledge, here and now.

In truth, there are many reasons why she should not speak about the enchantment on this cloak, but Alejandro's open curiosity is so obvious that she finds each of them somewhat lacking.

"I am called Galadriel," she answers in kind and, after inclining her head, returns her attention to weaving.

"This cloth will become a cloak. It is a gift for someone who has dearly earned it," she explained, not because he had asked, but because it set the context for the enchantment. "When it is worn, this cloak will hide the wearer from unfriendly eyes; it will conceal them from those they wish to evade, or those who would do them harm."

She wove as she spoke and the nature of the enchantment became more and more obvious as she worked. The cloak was just a cloak, but when the light struck it, it would shift and appear to be something else altogether, some surface nearby or hazy and indistinct.

"It may also detect that which is corrupted--crafts that I have made often do. It cannot summon flame, but I expect it will burn corrupted flesh all the same."

Galadriel. It's hard to not know that name, not when there'd been such a fuss about her imprisonment sometime ago. He didn't know why she was placed in a cell, but it seemed stupid to him when someone like Anders, who is a very real threat and ruined so many lives, is allowed to walk freely with his fellow Wardens while Galadriel was put away into a cell for reasons that weren't ever really explicitly stated.

Suffice it to say, he has little respect for the advisers and their choices by this point. As far as he's concerned, Galadriel's presence is abruptly more than welcome at just knowing her name.

"All right. I've heard about enchantments similar to that -- but they were rumors at best." The infamous Ring of Doubt comes to mind, but Alejandro had never been under any impression to believe it existed. But he has no inclination to really doubt Galadriel, not when he just watched how she was working on the cloak.

He finally pulls up a stool and sits down, invested now, observing how the cloak worked. Now that he understood, truly, it makes sense. When it'll be done, it'll be an incredible piece of work.

"That's gonna be real damned useful against anything to do with red lyrium." He hesitates, then asks, "Is this a skill only your, uh, people know how to do? Or can it be taught?"

"Anyone can learn how," Galadriel explains as she works, her attention shifting back as Alejandro takes her introduction well. "Though it requires both skill and the will to imbue such things with one's own power; I have met few mortals who would not balk at the time required to learn such things."

She works until she has reached the bottom of the rack and then it is a careful process to darn the edges closed and shift the fabric to add more. As she is restringing the loom, she continues.

"I have not tested it against the old song, but it would certainly be a barrier against that cursed rock," she adds. "It wears all things down, in the end, so I cannot say how long such a barrier might hold...but it would grant time enough to flee, if nothing else."

Anyone can learn. Hell, if he could make things to protect against the red lyrium, that would be incredibly useful. His heart beat increases a little and he considers a moment, watching her work.

"Galadriel-- uh, ma'am?" It's so bizarre. She's a (very tall) elf from the Fade, but he feels like she should be treated like nobility. "Would you teach me? I ain't much in the fight these days, but I'm really fu-- frickin' good at making things. I'd learn, if you'd show me."

He hardly knows her, and she has every right to say no, but he figures there's no harm in asking. The worst she'll do, he figures, is turn him down.

The address is uncommon enough that Galadriel pauses, again, at his question. Rarely has she ever met a mortal, or even an elf, who so eagerly pursued her craft. Whether that was because she was so well known in Arda, or because the crafts were difficult, she could not say, but this man wished to learn.

"I have never trained a smith in these arts," Galadriel prefaces gradually, a shade of hesitance in her own tone, then, "though it is a skill that has its origins in their ways...."

Was it wise to instruct him in this? She was a master of such enchantments but a smith could learn, could exercise skills that would, in the end, far outstrip her own. She didn't know if he had the will, or the proficiency, and without reading his heart it was difficult to determine his disposition. He did not seem...dangerous, though she could hardly claim that she had leveled her full focus upon him.

She regards him silently for a moment, considers the quiet eagerness in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, and wise or not, comes to her decision.

"Very well. If you wish to know it, I will teach you," she agrees. "Though I suspect this particular example is too far along to serve as a lesson. Once it is finished, we can begin anew."

A slight crease settles between her brows as she stares at him, but still she is reluctant to break her vow to Adelaide. She will not read his heart, not lightly.

"Is it concealment you wish to grant, or something else? It will be difficult to imbue power into your first works, moreso if you are undecided in your course."

In Antiva, it takes careful consideration in reading a person when exchanging business. While Orlesians pride themselves in their fucking Game, Antivans are just full of scoundrels and thieves of all kinds. He's been swindled and lied to often in his life; reading a person is a skill that others are better at than him, but he'd like to think that by watching Galadriel, he gets the impression that she is being sincere with him.

When she agrees to teach him, Alejandro smiles faintly. It looks tired, but he nods his head once gratefully.

"It's..." Alejandro lets out an uneasy sigh. "Red lyrium's taken ... things away from people. And it's going to keep growing in Thedas, if Corypheus has his way. If the Red Templars have their way. Concealment's nice, but I want to protect people from its affects, if I can."

His real hand curls into a fist. "I don't want to make a weapon, necessarily. I just don't want this shit to keep on going."

"I see," she answers, at length, and her hands slow on the loom. She knew something of Corypheus, of his link to all of the chaos and the shadow that spread through Thedas, but she hadn't considered him to be the face of the enemy. It was a strange thing, that she hadn't made that connection, and her focus suffers as she does.

"There was a time, before the ancient smiths wound their power into weapons, when all they made was meant to bring light into the world," she explains and smooths her hands over the strands of wool as one might slide fingers over harp strings. He cannot see Nenya on her hand, but she stares at it as she speaks. "Their arts were meant to grant peace and joy to those who looked upon them, to preserve power, or beauty, or sentiment.

"The weapons they fashioned were beyond compare, truly, but I cannot instruct you in their creation. Those are skills I do not know. Fortunately...for what you wish to accomplish, you will require no weapons. In this, there are no who still live who can surpass me."

She lowers her hands, despite the haste with which she'd worked, and turns a curious eye on Alejandro. She stares for some long time before she speaks again and, when she does, it almost doesn't make sense.

"Do you care for music? Or for sculpture? Have you a love of gems and faceted stone? Of gardens or building?"