OPEN - I'm gonna do my best to take my place in the sun

[mythalenaste]

WHO: Pel Ashara and YOU
WHAT: Catch-all/open post for May/Bloomingtide
WHEN: All month
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Will update with any warnings as needed.

1 - Outskirts



A grey wolf is haunting the slopes outside of Skyhold.

She doesn't appear to be stalking anything. She is simply roaming the hillside, taking in her surroundings, occasionally sniffing something out. Her yellow eyes do not search; she is only taking everything in, as if she is discovering the world.

She hears and smells you before she sees you, and isn't worried, though her ears turn to listen. If you come closer, she will look up at you, waiting for you to do something to make her reveal herself.

2 - Library

The hour is absurdly late, but she can't sleep knowing this paragraph is not written. More accurately, it has been written a great many times, but she doesn't quite like any of them.

You might find her toiling. You might find her asleep on top of her own drafts.

3 - Hot spring

For whatever reason, you have just arrived, are in whatever state of dress or undress as you are in, when the water is disturbed and Pel's head pops out. She wasn't under longer than fifteen or twenty seconds--not long enough for you to get much done, but long enough for her to, perhaps, surprise you a bit. Though she looks surprised herself, seeing you.

4 - Wildcard

Pel's Daily Schedule

Comments

[scalethewall]

"Apricots?!" He raises an eyebrow in pleasant surprise.

"Uh, well, thank you... I don't think I've seen any ripe ones yet this season. Stroke of luck for you. Or maybe the Storm Coast doesn't have the soil for it," He wanders over to her basket, uncovering one of the little treasures. "Plenty of raspberries though. You want one? -I mean an apricot... not one raspberry, that'd be ridiculous."

Waiting for an answer, he takes a bite. Definitely, a good find. He's actually a little jealous.

[mythalenaste]

Oh no. Oh no no no. That little babble, the slight nervousness of it, it's way too charming. Just altogether too cute. He shouldn't be allowed.

She ducks her head a bit with a smile. "A merchant came in with them today from near Val Royeaux. He let these go for almost nothing because they were a bit bruised."

[scalethewall]

"Really? Still sounds like a stroke of luck to me. Unless you worked hard to charm this 'bruised' fruit off that Orlesian merchant. Then it's not luck, it's just skill," He grins, quieting as he takes another bite, savoring it before motioning back towards the basket with a nod.

"Did you want one?"

[mythalenaste]

A secretive smile. "It wouldn't be polite to boast the first time I have a conversation with someone."

And to answer his other question, she holds out her hand to receive an offered apricot.

[scalethewall]

"We've exchanged, uhh... hellos in the very least... haven't we?" It's obvious the realization hits him as he's speaking that they haven't actually exchanged much more than the briefest of words, "I suppose those don't quite count as conversations."

He plucks a second apricot from the basket and hands it over, idly inspecting the quick patch up job she'd done.

"The ends are supposed to be turned different ways like that?" He asks, still looking at the niddy noddy, "It doesn't look so complicated. If I can find a few spare pieces of wood, it shouldn't be too hard to make you a new one... if need be."

The construction looked simple enough, just three pieces of wood.

[mythalenaste]

She nods. "It's for doing up skeins."

Biting into the apricot. Luxury. Good fruit, lovely day, easy work, and excellent company. Pure luxury.

"I was just going to find someone to replace the shaft. But if...you wouldn't mind? I could trade you a skein of yarn for it, or one of my knit goods."

A beat. Then, without a change in tone or expression:

"Unless trading for a wood shaft with a woman makes you uncomfortable."

[scalethewall]

He gives her a blank look. Obviously, he can see there's yarn on the tool, but other than that he's fairly clueless as to what she means and his knowledge surrounding knitting and yarn is about as rudimentary as one can get.

"Sure, I could replace it for you," He agrees before she continues and then flushes slightly and clears his throat at the innuendo, "Better than saying I'm giving you my wood shaft, right?"

He shakes his head and sighs to cover up a snort of laughter, "I wouldn't know what to do with a skein of yarn... maybe some socks?"

[mythalenaste]

"Here."

She digs through her basket and pulls out a pair of mens' fingerless mitts in an earthy red. It's certainly the sweeter item of the trade, but she offers anyway.

[scalethewall]

He blinks at the gloves as he takes the last bite of the apricot, chuckling softly.

"You're not going to believe this, but you're actually the second person who's offered me knit gloves in the past couple of days. Maybe you know her. One of the Wardens, Bethany. Sweet girl. Truth is, I doubt I'll get much use out of them," He holds up his hands, wearing the same thick leather gloves that he always does.

"N-not that I don't appreciate the thought! Just... seems like they'd be wasted on me."

[mythalenaste]

"Warden Bethany is one of my best customers." She puts the mitts back and keeps rooting through her basket. "And a perfectly sweet girl. Oh!"

There we go. She pulls out a pair of mens' socks, natural brown wool, and offers them.

"My last pair. Soldiers buy them like they're candy. You're one, aren't you? A Warden?"

[scalethewall]

"Are you sure? Seems like I'll be getting the better deal here," He says as he takes the socks and gives her back the mitts. He did need a new pair, the ones he had hadn't fared so well with being constantly damp.

"This shouldn't take me more than a day once I find a decent piece of wood to use," He promises.

"I... don't think we've had a proper introduction, m'lady. Apologies for my rudeness. Warden Blackwall," He offers, extending a hand to her, "So, you know who to hunt down tomorrow for taking off with your last pair of socks."

[mythalenaste]

"Pel." She grips his hand firmly, with a smile. "Of Clan Ashara. Not a lady at all, I'm afraid." But he doesn't say it the way some people do, as if trying to elevate her. Telling her what she ought to be. He's just saying it. "I'm a researcher for the Inquisition."

[scalethewall]

"Well, you look like a lady to me," He says with a shrug, "But if you're that opposed, I could try and force a 'sera'. No promises though."

He'd heard others say her name, but this was things were official. Almost a week after working in comfortable silence only a few feet from each other, they were now formally introduced.

"It's a pleasure," He adds instinctively, "A researcher? Of anything in particular?"

[mythalenaste]

"Elven history. Elven magic. The arcane, really. The yarn shop is just paying for a book I'm publishing."

She scratches her forehead, where stray hairs in the wind tickle her skin. "And milady is better than serah. I'm more accustomed to knightly sorts like yourself calling trying to call me that since I came."

[scalethewall]

"Magic? Are you a mage, Pel?" In his defense, his tone is neutral, curious, without any maliciousness or judgement. After all, plenty of Grey Wardens were mages.

"If it offends you, I'll try to keep either from slipping out, but no promises. I spent too long in Orlais. Those things get ingrained in you."

[mythalenaste]

She pauses, side-eyeing him a bit as if this way she can determine whether being a mage makes a difference to him. But Grey Wardens are supposed to be different. Grey Wardens have both elves and mages. But recently she was attacked for being both, so it takes a moment to gather herself. Remind herself not to be hostile and afraid of everyone.

"Yes. I'm a mage. And neither offends me. It's just a bit odd."

[scalethewall]

Although he ultimately had supported the idea of Circles, he'd fought alongside and against plenty of mages. He didn't really have any experiences that swayed him towards a blanket opinion of all mages, though he was wary of them, as one was taught to be.

"The Dalish don't really use either, do they?"

He looks thoughtful a moment, "So... you're Dalish. A Dalish mage. And you're writing a book about Elven magic? Isn't that a little, uh, I don't know- I just thought the Dalish liked to keep their secrets amongst themselves."

[mythalenaste]

"My book's about our culture, not our magic. Might help take away some of the power of imagination from the people who demonize us. I haven't shared any of our secrets."

If she sounds a little stiff, defensive, it's not strictly Blackwall's fault.

[scalethewall]

"Ah, no secrets being being spilled then? Wouldn't want to get yourself exiled, or whatever it is you lot do," He says with a lopsided smile and a wink.

He's obviously teasing her, but he should've known better. The Dalish rarely found their mistrust of outsiders very amusing. In fact, there didn't seem to be too many things the Dalish weren't touchy about.

[mythalenaste]

It takes her a second to figure out the tease in there. Then, she relaxes and gives a wan smile, a mere tightening of her lips that barely makes it to her eyes.

"Well, if we gave our knowledge out to other people, we'd have none left for ourselves," she deadpans. "Is that what you want?"

[scalethewall]

"Oh, no, no," He says with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender, "I'm not foolish enough to want anything from the Dalish. Especially not secrets. I might be a warden but I still value my life a tiny bit."

[mythalenaste]

An easier smile comes then. All right. He really is cool.

"It's good to know Wardens understand about secrets. Dirthamen knows you have plenty of your own."

She peers at the rocking-gryphon.

"Do you have children?" She's heard in no uncertain terms that Wardens can't have children--after they join the order. Before, though...

[scalethewall]

"Do I...?" The question makes him fumble in surprise until he turns and realizes the source of her curiosity. Well, that was a relief.

"No," He chuckles, shaking his head, "No... well... not that I know of. I hope not. Uh, but no, a lot of refugees have ended up in Skyhold. A lot of children. I thought it might be nice for them to have some toys. Times like these, children are forced to grow up fast enough as it is. And it's something to keep me busy."

[mythalenaste]

That's...one of the most beautiful things she's ever heard. It's the kind of thing her aunt might have said. She grins--a rare thing, so self-conscious she is of how her smile looks--picturing a magnificent toy like that in a Dalish camp.

"I wish I was good at making toys," she says, a tendril of wist in her voice. "I can tie loops of bark to a stick to make play swords, but that's as clever as I'm capable of. Yarn keeps people warm, but it doesn't make things normal."

[scalethewall]

"Nah. You're good at making useful things, things that keep people from freezing. Much more important. It's hard to play with little toy soldiers or wooden blocks when you've got frostbite," He adamantly believes what he's saying. Although, he does want to give the children in the camp something to play with, the woodworking feels almost therapeutic. It's for him as much as it is for them, if not more so.

"Anyway, children rarely need toys to be able to play. A stick is as good as a carved wooden sword."