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

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?"