[Closed] [A'Hunting we shall go

[judgemewhole]

WHO: James Norrington, Ingrid Kief, Bellamy Blake, Ellana Ashara
WHAT: A small band heads out to kill some blood mages, some Red Templars, and an errand or two.
WHEN: Back-dated, second week of Bloomingtide
WHERE: The Hinterlands
NOTES: There will be violence! Also, annoying climbing.

Travelling

The trip to the Hinterlands is positively boring, compared to other trips that have headed out recently. The templars that Norrington have brought with him chat with one another, chat with those traveling with them, and the mood - if not light, is at least comfortable and friendly.

Camping

Norrington places them in the Camp off in the Rebel Queen's Ravine - it will be a long hike inward from the valley to where the Red Templars were seen, but Norrington wants to do a through sweep of the valley. So camp is established, and people are free to mingle with one another as wanted.

Hunting

Those heading out to find the Red Templars will leave early enough in the day, as to have the element of surprise. Norrington stops the group right outside their first spotting, frowning as he hunkers down low.

He turns to the others, murmuring, "They're moving red lyrium - large shards of the stuff. Where the name of the Maker are they getting it?"

or

The blood mages are conducting some sort of ritual, on the far end of the valley, near where those ... rather strange cultists live. The advantage is theirs - they are atop a large hill.

Norrington frowns as he looks up the sides of the hill. "We need a distraction, so the rest can charge around the back. Any ideas?"

An Enchanter's Favor

On the second or third day, Norrington packs up his horse on his own, and calls out to the others, "I'm heading out for First Enchanter Vivienne. Does anyone wish to come along?"

Comments

[nonsibi]

Bellamy looks around at the question, more startled than he should be, especially given her tone. "Yeah," he says, automatically, and sets down the water skins with a huff of effort. The water sloshes around as its mass rearranges. Bellamy flexes his hands, working out the stiffness.

He cocks another glance toward his fellow (ha) templar, taking a quick measure of her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

[ingrid_kief]

Ingrid shrugs a little.
"I do not know. Sometimes the road... it locks you in your own head. It can be hard to get back out. You seem like you might have done that. It happens to me too."

[nonsibi]

Well. She's not wrong. Bellamy drops his gaze to the dirt for a second, jaw set, the line of his shoulder just as set. He doesn't like her assessment, but he can't fault it.

Instead, he drops to his knees to loosen the end of one of the waterskins, with the intent to get a drink for himself--more to busy his hands than anything.

"And talking about it helps." For her, he means. He's pretty sure it doesn't, for him.

[ingrid_kief]

"I prefer good, hard work, actually," she admits, "Talking is not my strongest."

Ingrid shifts a little awkwardly, but her demeanor remains kind.
"But knowing that someone cares? That can make a difference too."

[nonsibi]

"Guess so."

Bellamy looses the stay on the waterskin and gets a mouthful. It doesn't do anything to take his edge off, really, but it gives him a few seconds more to think, to consider her for another few seconds.

"You saying you care?" It's not aggressive. It's almost teasing.

[ingrid_kief]

"You are my brother in faith. We ride together. I would know you better, but yes. I care."

She is earnest, her words plainly sincere, not rising to the bait.