faderift | In the summer, I remember

WHO: Thranduil, Legolas, anyone good with a bow or who enjoys the wine on offer.
WHAT: ROOTY TOOTY POINT N SHOOTY ARCHERY CONTEST
WHEN: 8th of Bloomingtide, midmorning until sunset.
WHERE: Valley
NOTES: log for a friendly wager!

The eighth of Bloomingtide began as a chilly morning; not quite cold enough to leave frost on the budding flowers and fresh-sprouted plants in the heights of Skyhold, but nearly, nearly.

By the time the sun was been in the sky for a few hours, most of the early-morning chill had burned off, leaving a day that promised to be nearly too-hot for those who would be stuck in full-plate and in direct sunlight. Thranduil wasn’t expecting any to come clanking down to his little fete, but had none the less secured a spot in the shade. Varric had apparently found him while he was still working on organizing—the target launchers are set neatly in line with everything else. Along the clay pigeon launchers were the standard, stock targets, blindfolds—and on a table off to the side was a few bottles of sweet wine beside loaves of brown bread and hard cheeses.

The contest did not pretend to be anything other than what it was; a chance to meet, and mingle, and possibly show off archery skills. The purses wrested next to the wine and cheese and Thranduil himself. He had found a chair to rest in while waiting for the contestants to arrive, dressed plainer than he had so far allowed himself to be seen. On his fingers, four rings glittered—but his confidence in Legolas was so absolute, he doubted he would lose even one before the days was out.

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"Yeah, well. You never give me treats or belly rubs when I come up t'say high." Not that he's all that put out; but it's a little fun to lean against his bow and offer Korrin the same sad hang dog eyes Jayne always gives over to get some bit of jerky or cheese.

"All weird t'be shoot'n with my feet on the ground. Thought it'd be harder when I'm not mov'n with the target."

"I wouldn't know, all my targets have been stationary. The last time I actually fired one for something other than a hobby, I was even shorter than you." Korrin flashes a grin, unable to help saying that for all that he's a fairly decent size for a human. "As for treats, does something better than really sweet Orlesian wine count? After the show's over, that is."

"So ten, twelve years ago?" Longer than that, probably. Qunari got tall pretty damn quick, not that he at all minds look'n up to her. It's a good view. "Well...it's Orlesian but it's better than noth'n."

It might even be good- but he's a decent Fereldan sort and won't ever say anything of the like.

Korrin doesn't disagree, though it's been a while since she spoiled Mal instead of just his dog. "Yeah, but we can still do better. Araceli and the others brought back some excellent stuff from Antiva, and you're one of the people I'd share it with if you keep quiet. There isn't enough to appease all of Skyhold, you know."

"For a shot at honest to goodness home Antivan Cook'n from your little not-wife? I will keep this a secret from everyone but Jayne. Mostly cuz he'll follow me." And beg for scraps, and where would they be then? Somewhere sad, no doubt. "I'll bring a keg or two of ale. Pretty sure I got something half decent stowed away from the last job."

"Jayne is always allowed, aren't you, boy?" More belly-rubbing, because yes he is. "I won't say no to more ale, of course. Especially the sort that hasn't been watered down."

She straightens and pauses, growing more serious after a moment. "...have you been to see Asher?"

"You know I bring the good stuff." As if he'd dare to not. "...Yeah. You hear how is breath keeps rattl'n? That ain't good."

Speaks of sickness, that. Plague or rot or somth'n that shoulda passed and still hasn't.

Korrin nods, her lips forming a thin line. "I'll keep sending Spirit Healers at him. Something has to work." At least, she desperately hopes so. That there might be another outcome is too much to voice aloud, for now. "Bronson will need attention, so I'll see he gets it. Maybe he can hang out with Jayne and they can chase each other until they're worn out."

"You mean that's after they've laid their glow'n hands on him?" He figured Asher would ignore 'em, probably try to duck away from that kinda healing but-

Some sicknesses sit and dig in the more you try to get 'em out. Those are the ones...

"It ain't the blight." A rare, somber moment now. He's seen that. He knows what that does to a body, how it's kinder to give a man the knife. "but it ain't clear'n up either, is it?"

No. The word sticks in her throat, but Korrin shakes her head, staring down at Jayne. Good old pudgy Jayne who doesn't know about any of this. "I wish it was the Blight. He'd make a damn good Grey Warden...if he wasn't kept anywhere near that abomination." Otherwise, everything would quickly go to hell. But it's not the Blight and the Grey Warden cure, whatever it is, won't do anything for him.

"Probably just a cough. The kind what sticks around." He'll be fine. He's ASHER. He's gonna get himself killed try'n to headbutt a giant or some shit. "It'll pass."

It has to pass.

"The sooner, the better. Then he can go back to shagging or killing everything that moves. Pester him for me, will you? Maybe us double-teaming him will rouse him enough." If he can't get better through sheer willpower alone, they can still do their best to distract him. Of course it's Asher, so who knows what mayhem will result, but she'd still consider it worth that risk.

"I'll swing by with a beer and a story. Gotta pick up that dress he got me anyhow." Cuz that's how they bond, him and Asher. Apparently. "We need to get him some good, proper food. Someth'n with heat- that's supposed to help with a cough, right?"

"I think so, yeah. I'll see about pestering the kitchen staff into letting me take some things over, pretend it's all for Bronson if he gives me crap." The she grins at the image Mal provides her. "Do I get to see the dress too, or is this only for quality time with Asher?"

"Like he'd let that dog have the best of it." Mal chuffs a laugh, leaning enough to elbow Korrin. Ah, the dress. Right. "If you ask real nice and lemme get in on that cook'n? I might just model it for you."

Cuz he's a friend and that's what friends do, Korrin. Friends share.

In the summer, I remember

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