faderift | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

Poetry in your body [OPEN]

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