faderift | Poetry in your body [OPEN]

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Poetry in your body [OPEN]

WHO: Andra and YOU
WHAT: Andra's "return" to Skyhold as well as catch-all for Bloomingtide
WHEN: Bloomingtide 9-30
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Info post here, if you'd like your character to have met Andra previously or know of her, feel free to hit me up on PM or plurk and we can talk details!

Arrival

It happened overnight. When most of those camping in the valley went to sleep there were no extra tents, but the next morning there were eight new brightly colored tents, two wagons, and thirteen motley characters milling about, setting things up, laughing, and singing. If anyone approaches the new addition to the camp they might notice a young elf woman more or less directing traffic, hollering at someone when they're putting something in the wrong place, or laughing when someone drops something. The entire group seems rather full of life and the air about them is lighthearted.

If anyone comes close enough the elf woman directing her crew will round on them and raise her eyebrows, settling her hands on her hips even as she smiles.

"Hello there, come to help us settle in?"

Tavern

When Andra isn't with her camp, she can likely be found in the tavern, sometimes heckling the bard but most of the time drinking either with her crew or with anyone she happens to sit down next to. She moves around easily, like she's spent her entire life in the Herald's Rest, and talking to people doesn't seem to be something she has trouble with.

That of course doesn't always lead to good things, as is the case in this moment when she sits down in the first available seat next to a person and leans in, giving them a wide smile like they're already quite familiar.

"That bloke over in the corner is bothering me, do you mind if I sit here and pretend like we know each other until he leaves?"

Courtyard

Everyone needs to practice in order to stay sharp, and sometimes Andra will take advantage of the targets set up in the courtyard, usually in the afternoon when others have finished training, setting up and stringing her longbow, emptying her quiver into the targets before walking the distance and pulling each arrow out of the targets, some better hits than others, and returning to her spot.

There's a rhythm to it, and while she isn't the most gifted marksman in the Inquisition, she moves with a kind of grace that says she's entirely comfortable where she is.

Sparrow's Camp

In the mornings and early afternoons Andra can be found with her people, in her camp. Often she's walking around and checking on anyone who needs checking on, and sometimes the full contingent of thirteen people isn't present. They are all hired out by the Inquisition, and go where needed, when asked. Everyone under her care has unique talents, and sometimes they all aren't required at once.

When she isn't walking around she's sitting in front of her tent, playing her lute or maintaining her gear. Sometimes others join her, and she never chases anyone away, far more comfortable with company than alone.

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He's always up early, which makes him a little surprised to see the colorful camp that's come up all of a sudden. As there's time before his shift, Anders makes his way over to the woman seemingly directing traffic. Her question gets a small smile.

"More like see if there's anyone injured or ill before I head up to Skyhold. I'm one of the healers here and if I can spare a trip for anyone, I'm willing to do so."

His reply surprises her a little and she leans back on her heels, appraising him for a moment, before nodding her head.

"That's sweet of you. We're actually set, been on the road a spell so the worst we have is sore feet and a couple people whining about their backs because their "packs were too heavy." As if I hadn't warned them about that in the first place."

"Sweet, practical, either applies. Sometimes." He looks back at the chaos that's settling into order. "But warning never matters; there will always be people who think they can carry more than they can in truth and straining themselves. If anything more serious crops up, I'm easy to find in the Warden camp."

Anders jerks a thumb back toward it and hesitates for the briefest moment before continuing. "Ask for Anders." It's a risk. It's such a risk. But everyone who stays here will find out sooner or later, and it's better that they know from the start rather than feeling lied to like everyone he i did lie to.

The name rings a bell for her, although not the one he's likely expecting. While yes, she spent time in Kirkwall and happened to be there during his little outburst she had more important things on her mind than what the name of the person who started it all was. Like not dying. And traveling like she does, by the time real details started coming through it was usually that mage or rebel apostate rather than specific names she heard. Orsino is the only one she knows off-hand, and she's heard at least that he was definitely killed.

"You were a healer in Darktown, weren't you? We passed through Kirkwall just before the rebellion. You treated Lem after he contracted something at the Blooming Rose. He went on about you, saying you'd cleared things up he didn't even know. Granted some of that was probably talk to try and convince the girls in the troupe to sleep with him, but..." Her smile widens a little and she holds out her hand. It's a bold gesture as she's fairly sure this guy is a mage, but healers are something different, in her opinion. They're using their magic to help people, which is in the Chant. "I'm Andra."

There's clear surprise on his face at her reaction. No one here knows him as the Darktown healer, despite how he'd done that for longer than he's done anything.

"The healer in Darktown, yes. I don't recall a Lem in particular, and I've treated," he shakes his head with no little amusement, "a great many people who got something at the Blooming Rose. And cleared up other things they'd no idea were causing them problems. Maybe if I saw him again I'd know him."

Her hand is taken and shaken as he starts smiling again. "Welcome to the Inquisition, Andra. Is there any help you need with settling in?"

"I didn't expect you'd remember him. I'd point him out but we lost him in Kirkwall, sorry to say. Got crushed by falling debris." Her face falls a little at the memory, but she recovers quickly enough that the topic completely changes as she shakes his hand and then rocks back on her heels again.

"We've actually been with the Inquisition since Haven. Left for a while, had some work that needed doing," Andra replies, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "The Surviving Sparrows are contracted as scouts and mercenaries under the Inquisition. Also entertainment, I suppose, although I don't think they want to pay us for that." Which is a shame, as a collection of bards and acrobats among other things, they're very good at entertaining.

"Actually though, you said you were headed up to Skyhold? Would you mind if I walked with you? I only saw the place briefly myself and I'd love to get a better lay of the land."

The smile fades. He'd done his best to control that, but there was really no accounting for everything when blowing something up. In the end, in Kirkwall, he'd saved more than he'd taken, but he'd still taken. He'd still ended lives. Like this Lem, who he'd apparently healed only to kill.

Anders is quiet as she keeps talking, nodding when she asks the question. "I'm headed that way and you can join me, yes. Shall I point out the sights? Such as they are. And you could always give entertainment in the courtyard or tavern, see who might want to hire you for events. There are always people passing through."

With a nod, he starts leading the way up the path. "It's not too big to get a decent handle on quickly, at least." His voice is definitely not as happy as it had been; there's a little lingering sadness as he talks.

She notices the lingering sadness, even if she doesn't really know Anders, she's learned to read people. Following after him as he heads up the path she nods her head a little as he talks.

"That's good. Don't know how much time we'll be spending here, but the less complicated it is to get around, the better." Her own tone is fairly upbeat, like she's intentionally trying to compensate for his change of tone. "I heard this place is old, do we have any idea how old?"

Pep is good. He works to haul himself out of the mood that's threatening to drag him down; there's no point in indulging in it.

"I think a lot of people come to see it, and then wind up sticking around longer. They get caught up in the cause, see something bigger than themselves that they can help with, and join up.But it's possible that you'll be moving on." As he speaks, he's looking over the building in front of them, trying to come up with a possible guess.

"And... no. Not an idea. Old is the best I can say. It had to have been built with magic incorporated, however, to still be standing the way it is. There are parts that have fallen, certainly, but most still stand strong."

Ariadne never felt more comfortable in Skyhold than when she was in the courtyards. It wasn't home. It would never be home. But when she was among flowering things, when she could sink her fingers into the soil, when she could breathe in the familiar scents of chlorophyll and bark...well. At least then she didn't feel quite so far away from her past.

Another land entirely.

But more importantly, the courtyards were the best of places to watch life happen. She loved to see the children playing make-believe, the soldiers escaping the hard realities of a world at war for a few minutes.

And almost inevitably, new people with new scents and new stories would find their way to the courtyards.

For instance, the archer she noticed practicing by herself. As Ariadne aerated the soil, she found herself watching. And in between rounds, as the woman was collecting her arrows, she called out in a light, ethereal voice, "You're very good."

For a moment, Andra doesn't realize the woman is speaking to her. She glances up out of habit, trained to observe her surroundings and listen for information where it's available, and that's when she sees that she is being talked to. She lets out a light laugh, shaking her head.

"I'm decent. I'm better with knives, I can never quite adjust for the weight of an arrow versus the weight of a dagger."

"My aunt once told me that the best way to think about them is as animals. A blade is like a snake. It relies on strength and thrust. But an arrow is more like a bird. Light and fast."

Which probably helped to explain why Ariadne was so good with arrows. She was rather birdlike herself.

Of course, there was also the fact that she detested the violence that blades implied. Arrows could be used for other things, like climbing and entrapping.

She tilted her head to the side, weighing the analogy as she pulled another arrow from the target she's standing by, before nodding slightly.

"A fair point. Of course, birds are able to adjust themselves mid-flight so they fly true. Arrows are rarely so considerate." Which is primarily her problem. Wind resistance is a very different thing between throwing knives and loosing arrows.

Ariadne laughed softly, the sound like a bell ringing in the distance. "It's probably for the best that arrows can't do that," she said. "Or else a lot of the people I've known would be long gone."

Hers had never been an easy life.

She moved a bit closer to watch the other woman. "I've never seen you before," she said politely. "Are you new to Skyhold?"

Andra chuckles at that too, bobbing her head. "I suppose that's true for me, as well." Her life had been anything but quiet.

As the other woman moves closer Andra continues to pull arrows, but when she asks her if she's new she stops, letting out a small laugh.

"Of course, where are my manners! I am new to Skyhold, yes. My name is Andra. My company and I arrived not long ago. We had been at Haven, but were sent out to do... you know, scout things."

Oh, Ariadne knew about 'scout things' all too well. Which immediately endeared Andra to her.

Of course, then again, it wasn't hard for Ariadne to like someone.

She dipped into a curtsy. It was more of a bounce than a curtsy, really. But the politeness was completely intended and sincere. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Andra," she said.

The laugh she lets out at the honorific is not entirely appropriate. However, that's somewhat par for the course with her.

"Oh Maker no, I'm no lady. You must be one of those who fell through the rifts? No Thedosian would ever confuse an elf for a lady." She doesn't sound particularly unkind when she says it, although it is a point of contention for her at times.

Self-consciously, Ariadne opened up her palm to show Andra the shard beneath her skin. As much as it was a part of her now, she hated it. She hated the way it made people look at her funny. And she found herself adjusting her body language to compensate.

"I didn't mean to offend," she said. "It's just that where I come from...most Elves I meet are lords or ladies."

The shards do admittedly make Andra a little uneasy. But these people came from the sky to Thedas in a time of need, and she believes, however few people may also believe it, that the Maker has sent them to help.

She shakes her head at the young woman's explanation, her smile somewhat apologetic.

"I'm not offended, believe me. It's just not the sort of thing I'm used to hearing."

"Your world is a little bit the opposite of mine," she said. "Where I come from, the Elves are far more powerful than any other race."

Once upon a time, in fact, the Elves had once enslaved the Human population. It was a dark time in the realm's history. Ariadne knew that old prejudices remained. But Princess Amanda and her ilk? They were progressive.

Ariadne shrugged. "It takes getting used to. I lived there for nineteen years, after all."

"It's so interesting, the different types of people who have been pulled through those rifts," Andra replies, shaking her head a little in wonder. She can't even fathom a world where elves are considered anything better than second-class (or third, or fourth class really.)

"Are elves quite different from us where you're from?"

"In some ways," Ariadne replied. For one thing, it was very, very rare to see an Elf walk about with her head not held high. They were a proud, aristocratic race. But she wouldn't say so. It wouldn't sound terribly flattering.

She shrugged. "For one thing, almost every Elf back home has magical powers. There's no division between Mages and whatever the opposite of a Mage is."

There were exceptions, of course. But that was getting a bit into the weeds.

"For another, they're known to be the oldest race still living in the realm."

The thought of every elf being a mage is somewhat unsettling. The curse of having magic, it's not one she's ever wanted. Sure, mages seem capable of some amazing things, but at what cost?

"That certainly seems quite different. As far as I know here, elves and humans have existed just as long as one-another, and magic is no more common among us than humans." Thankfully. She knew of a few children who had been taken to the Tower, she'd learned to be afraid of the possibility very young.

Hence all of Ariadne's confusion, really. As much as she could adjust, falling back on old habits always felt safest. The worst she could do was insult someone by naming them above their station. Always safer than the opposite.

"I don't understand how it is..." She paused, trying to find a delicate way to phrase it. "Why...if that's so...the Humans treat you Elves so..."

...horribly, really.

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Poetry in your body [OPEN]

Arrival

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Courtyard

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