lost myself and I am nowhere to be found

[fightingale]

WHO: catch-all for Leliana, Ruby & Herc
WHAT: all sorts! some open prompts for each, as well as closed starters.
WHEN: throughout Bloomingtide
WHERE: various
NOTES: Depression, discussion of death, alcohol, potential violence, others to be added as necessary. If we're threading and something comes up in a tag, feel free to add a warning to the subject line.

Starters in the comments! If you'd like a personalised thing then just prod me via pp (@karmacharging) or pm and I will whip something up C:

Comments

[twelvelabours]

Max has been anticipated - he had been turning to look at Benuta so that the whites of his eyes were showing in that could-be-fear-could-be-shock sort of way, head unturned and years sadly dropping, a whine being prepped in his throat. Thankfully she amends her claim, and Max's expression turns into something more like a pleased smile, eyes shut with the hand on his head and a string of celebratory drool generously stretching down to the ground (or possibly onto Husband, if the other dog is particularly unlucky.)

Bloody dog.

Herc, for his part, shakes his head at the dog and huhs quietly to himself. Questions about Teren should wait, probably, but duty has always gnawed at him (even when he's holding hands with a beautiful woman in a garden in springtime, apparently.) "Alright."

It sounds like there's more he'd like to say on the topic, even if he doesn't.

After a moment, "I'm going to need to do that walk more often, now."

(A great burden. No, he's joking, and the sidelong glance he gives her might just give it away.)

[ungovernable]

He is not nearly so subtle as he probably doesn't even think he is, and the amused quirk of her lips says as much, but -

"Well," she says, almost cautiously, "you know, it has been drawn to my attention that our hold is - somewhat overcrowded."

Yes. The mages are engaged in a project to solve that, in cooperation with others, and that's all very well and good; that is not where she's leading this thought, now that he brings it up.

"Perhaps we might find," very delicately, "a different solution. To that terrible fate."

And free up her room by taking over his tent? Fill it with her hair oils and her jeweled skull and - her, with her hair down, keeping him warm of an evening. It isn't a terrible idea, not the worst she's had. And it is certainly sound pragmatism.

[twelvelabours]

"Overcrowded," he replies, and it's rather deadpan. That was an understatement - Herc had never known the luxury of a roof or ceiling in Skyhold proper. He'd had a bit of run down former tower, yeah, but no ceiling. That was real nice in winter, but it's not like he's got too much issue with it. They still had the hot springs, and he'd been glad to give up a ceiling for a warm bath.

That's not the point - she's going somewhere with this, and Herc's brows s l o w l y raise as it dawns on him.

"Are you proposing what I think you are?"

It's not a no so much as a gentle what, Benuta.

[ungovernable]

An elegant and artful shrug -

"It is a practical use of resources," she says, which is ... arguable. Certainly, it would free up a room that could be used by someone else, and if that's the only practical concern, then yes, what she proposes is perfectly reasonable. (And she has a knack for sounding reasonable, regardless of what she proposes--)

Still, it is both sudden and a rather public u-turn on certain statements she's recently made in private.

She still has his hand in hers; she tangles their fingers and smiles up at him.

"It must get cold down there," more persuasively. Wouldn't he like a bedwarmer like Benevenuta?

[twelvelabours]

Maker preserve him; Hercules chuckles, quietly.

"Moving pretty fast, aren't we?" And, because he knows how ridiculous that sounds coming out of him: "Pretty sure you're skipping a few steps ahead."

It's by no means scandalised and not even remotely sassy - no, this is just Herc in a sort of gently bemused state, looking back at her with a smile, as well.

"Max can make any kind of space seem suffocating," he adds, dryly, only to be rewarded by a wounded whine.

[ungovernable]

"Did you want to be courted, Hercules?" --her voice lilts, troublemaker that she is.

And a tsk for his unkindness to his poor mabari; she scratches Max behind the ear, absently. Who's a good boy. Sometimes you!!!

[twelvelabours]

"I'm just saying you could at least get me flowers."

Max, striken by the injustice of it all, makes a very plaintive but he's lying!!! sort of whine at Benuta, raising one of his giant paws and resting it on her lap. :C Injustice!!!

Herc, unmoved, rolls his eyes. Again.

[ungovernable]

"If you want flowers," she says, complacently, "come and find them. You know where they are."

Truly, is there a better courtship ritual than filthy insinuations about the tattoo rarely seen by anyone but Hercules Hansen. (And Dorian Pavus, and one time Teren von Skraedder, and the entirety of the Mage Council when they had their spa day with Vivienne - but him most. Well, second only to Dorian. What are you gonna do.)

Max is rewarded with further attention, because he is a good boy, unlike his master.

[twelvelabours]

Helpfully, Herc points to the tree from whose shade they benefit, even if they are not underneath it. It is blossoming, spring coaxed into action finally. "All about the garden, seems like."

He is not taking that bait, Benuta. He is very good at not taking bait, in fact.