faderift | You don't hate a person because someone told you to

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You don't hate a person because someone told you to

WHO: Church aaand anyone who wants to show up!
WHAT: Rifter meeting reboot
WHEN: Noon-ish on the 24th-ish
WHERE: Upper room of the Herald's Rest
NOTES: After this notice went up. People who are not Rifters are welcome to show up--nothing stopping them from dropping in, and he isn't going to cause an incident (probably) by throwing anyone out.
Mingle! Share knowledge! Talk about your trials with your pain lasers!

He's not nervous. He's totally not nervous. This is just like calling a Blue Team meeting, except with a lot more people, and most of them (probably) aren't dumbasses. Araceli believes in him, for some reason, so, obviously, he's got this in the bag. His letter was super professional and everything.

Look, there's even some snacks! People can get drinks downstairs. What does he look like, a bartender?

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He's early, even earlier than he expected to be. It's probably gotta be, what, maybe 11 instead of noon? Do people have any sundial watches here for something? God. The days he misses having a HUD that can tell him just about anything. He just has to prepare things. Maybe make his own notes? And look all impressive to everyone. And Hermione. God, he'd probably made a stupid impression on her, but at least she probably knew how strongly he felt about Rifters not getting fucked over, right??

Just...imagine this is like preparing for some assault on Red Base in the gulch. Yeah. That's better. He hops up the stairs up to the room.

Pre-meeting

Galadriel was not often wont to attend meetings akin to this one, she prized her privacy and tended to prefer observation to conversation. Unfortunately, after the Seeker had seen fit to jail her, what little privacy she was afforded had vanished. So, as people who are frustrated by their situation often do, she went to the bar and, in turn, the meeting.

She arrived early, though that was mostly accidental, with a pint in hand and clad in something slightly less conspicuous than her normal, flowing gown. Her plain tunic and pants were ill-fitting but had been taken in, in places, until they sat with some measure of ease over her form. The awkwardness fit of the bland outfit was obscured, somewhat, by the cloak about her shoulders; it was nondescript, almost painfully so, and it was all too easy to overlook her if one's eyes landed directly on the grey wool.

She moved into the room rather boldly (especially given the conspicuous lack of templar guards at her heel) and regarded those gathered. The quarters were tight, sure enough, but the number of people present was less than she would have expected.

Meeting(ish?)

"During my time in Thedas, I have made some study of the marks we wear. If you have questions regarding it, the Veil, or how both might be manipulated, I would share what I know."

It was an offer of some note, considering why she had been arrested. Though, given the nature of the rumors she'd heard, there were precious few people who knew the contents of her conversation with the Seeker. There had been the claim of her making threats, of course, but she hardly seemed threatening now, clad in high-waters and a pinned back linen tunic. Indeed, if anything, her mild smile and calm tone were welcoming.

"Though I fear I cannot suggest ways the shards might be removed, nor how to dampen them permanently, but such goals are not...unimaginable."

Varric was, in point of fact, not a Rifter.

He had never claimed to be, nor would anyone believe him if he did. He was decidedly from Thedas (if not this particular region).

So why had he decided to attend? Well, Varric had a soft spot for hard-luck cases and, frankly, every Rifter present fit his definition of 'hard luck'--it went hand in hand with being removed from their homes and marked with creepy-ancient-fade-magic-bullshit, really. He wasn't sure if there was anything to do for these people but that notice had caught his attention and if he could lend a hand, he'd make sure he offered it.

Unfortunately, since he wasn't qualified to act in anything resembling an "official capacity", he'd have to offer help one on one. It was tedious, yeah, but not a deal breaker. Varric was a people person, always had been, and chatting with a few out-of-towners while enjoying some of Cabott's better ale? Well, this was hardly the hardest part of his day.

Hermione doesn't think she's met anyone named Leonard Church, and so seeing her name mentioned in a notice had taken her by surprise. Since she doesn't know who to contact to ask how much earlier she should be, she's already there and looking up every time she hears someone climb the stairs.

She starts a little when someone actually comes into the room, standing up from her seat as she tries to recognize him. "Um-... Leonard Ch-... oh!" Now she remembers him. The rather loud but earnest man dressed all in green that she'd met at the soiree. She wouldn't have pegged him for the sort to organize this sort of thing, so she needs a moment to get past the surprise, hoping he doesn't take offense.

"Sorry. I hadn't realized it was you. It's nice to see you again."

Meetings like this just weren't the same without Marcel. But Ariadne was learning to adjust to his absence. Anyway, she liked that his legacy lived on, liked that the Rifters were still trying to make something out of themselves. Besides easy targets.

Of course, not ever native of Thedas seemed to outright hate them. She'd made plenty friends. It was just...hard. Sometimes, to ignore the looks that people gave her when they thought she wasn't paying attention.

It made her feel that much more protective of her fellow Rifters. So it was only natural that the native caught her eye.

She was sitting on the banister of the staircase, watching people slowly file in. When she caught sight of him, she tilted her head to one side, her long braid falling over her left shoulder. "Can I help you?" she asked. Ariadne's voice was young, somehow. Light and floaty. Airy. Which was part of the reason why people so often called her that. And it wasn't unkind. But it was decidedly curious.

She's...already here? He looks behind him (trying to look for a clock, in retrospect, or maybe out a window), then looks back to her. "Hermione Granger. Long time no see. You, uh. You're here. Early. Er. Earlier. Than I thought."

He offers a hand to shake, because that's! super official! Right? "But that's a good thing! Since I wanted to talk with you. Um. About notes. About--Araceli said she'd given you some notes? And that's why I wanted to--" A helpless little motion to the room around them. "Yeah. She trusted you with some info. So. If I wanna kick this meeting more often business into gear, should probably know all there is?"

She's not sure what to make of his reaction, so she only smiles sheepishly. "Well, you'd said to get here early, and since I wasn't sure how early you meant, I didn't want to be late."

Hermione's not exactly sure what kind of meeting this will end up being, but before she can offer to help him set up, he asks about notes. "Oh!" she exclaims after shaking his hand. "I remember Araceli. I haven't spoken to her since our first meeting. I have her notes in my bag; will she be here today?"

She turns, then, going to the satchel that she'd rested by her chair, opening it up and carefully going through the paperwork within. "Much of it isn't anything new or revolutionary, but some of the fresher arrivals would probably find it interesting. Not that there isn't much useful information in them - there is! - but given that, for all intents and purposes, I literally live in the library, I can probably supplement much of what she's written down. Well, aside for any information about the rifts or the shards, unfortunately, which is what most of us are likely wondering about. If anyone has extensive information on them, they haven't gotten around to publishing it yet."

The girl on the banister was, at least by Varric's estimation, not a bouncer. Bouncers, after all, tended to ask that question less sing-song-ish and more...well...was punchy the right word? It felt like it was. Either way, that wasn't this, and Varric cocked a brow at her as he stepped past.

"Actually, I should probably be asking you that," he hazarded and glanced down at her hand. Unfortunately, both hands were pressed against the railing and he couldn't catch sight of a mark. Eh, he'd gambled with longer odds than this. "Varric Tethras, author, rogue, and generally helpful dwarf, at least that's what I plan on being. For you lot, if not everyone on whole."

"Introducing yourself as a rogue? That's risky business."

Still, Ariadne was smiling. He seemed like the friendly sort. And Ariadne felt that she could always do with more of those.

Anyway, he was hardly a threat. She estimated she could probably drop him in a matter of seconds. If needed, of course.

Following the line of his sight, she held out her hand, letting him see the shard in her skin. "I'm curious what you hope to do for our lot, my lord."

He's used to being the one heading meetings and calling them. He's a bit ashamed he didn't honestly call this meeting first, but he had spent the last two, was it three now?, months just trying to keep his feet under him and understand the insanity of this world's politics and the many implications of those politics.

He couldn't say how he felt about the meeting being in a bar, though when he thought about it he couldn't come up with a better place. It made it felt a bit like conspiring, but then, the best sort of rebellions started in such places didn't they? Not that he wanted to rebel, of course. Beer in hand, he made his way up - and found himself smiling when he spied Galadriel sans her guard.

"You seem to be missing two shadows," he commented quietly, coming up beside her as he surveyed the room with her.

Pre-Meeting
Kirk made his way to the tavern, feeling a bit like he was making his way to a clandestine meeting to plot revolution. It was nothing nearly so grand, of course, but the feeling made it a touch exciting. He pushed into the tavern and went to fetch himself an ale, glancing around to see if he could spot any Rifters he knew.

Coin given and beer in hand, he made his way to the stairs and up to the meeting room, making no secret of his coming. After all, this wasn't secret, and he didn't want to seem like he was skulking about. He would wander and speak quietly with those that had arrived or would arrive. If there had been more room to walk a circle about the place he would have, as it was he took up position against a wall to wait for the meeting to be called to order. At least he had beer while he waited.

Meeting
However they were doing things, Kirk had been thinking of something ever since he saw the notice for this meeting on the board. It had been bothering him, his own lack of knowledge on this world, and the way he kept getting different answers, or none at all. It left him feeling flat footed to say the least, which was never a good feeling for anyone.

"If I may - I suggest putting together some sort of introductory literature for anyone new coming in. It doesn't have to be long, just a basic break down of how to just go about daily life here. It might not hurt to put in what we know of current events and the political situation," he said, looking between everyone. "Consider it a sort of debriefing. I think it will keep people from fumbling about, and they will have more immediate information to help them make their own choices here."

Kirk and Varrci had not met officially - well, unless you counted exchanging pick up lines through the crystals they used for communicating (and damn wasn't that weird still to him). But whatever had helped them hit it off across the crystals seemed to draw Kirk to him now, raising his own beer in greeting. (Or ale, let's be honest, he was having trouble telling the difference between the drinks here).

"Glad I'm not the only one that decided to show up."

Galadriel had seen many rifters but knew few, Kirk's was a familiar face and Galadriel smiled as he came alongside her. She took a drink of her ale before answering him.

"I am rather adept at evading shadow," Galadriel said, a note of something akin to mischief in her tone. "In fact, I expect they will not remember I have left, but that is something for later.

"I am pleased to find you here as well. How do you find Thedas, thus far?"

"What can I say, I like a gamble," Varric admitted lightheartedly with a short shrug. "As for you all, well, I was hoping you'd tell me."

"Sure, I've been dragged away from my home by Divine intervention, carted off to Maker knows where, and left to my own devices while someone stares on in heavy scrutiny, but you guys have it way worse," Varric said and gestured idly to her hand. "You got stuck with fadey-magic-bullshit."

He glanced back into the room and, as it always did, the snack table was practically calling his name. When he looked back, he had a certain air about him, the air a person gets when they know there's pastries available on a nearby tray.

"Also there's that whole 'are you or are you not demons' business which is just rude, but sort of run of the mill for Chantry types."

"What, am I that early?" Varric asked with a short laugh--to his horror, yeah, he sort of was. He winced a bit as he eyed the room and then turned his full attention to the approaching human.

"Well, I guess I am that early," he confirmed and returned Kirk's gesture with his own mug. "Varric Tethras, writer, rogue, and helpful native dwarf, at your service."

"That's quite the list," he chuckled and held out his hand to him. "Jim Kirk, Rifter, uh... man of many labors and shipless captain at your service." He gave a depreciating huff, wincing at how truthful that introduction had been for himself. "Oh, also teacher of self-defense. I need to remember to add that one more often."

Kirk could pick a few out, simply because they looked so very different from the native Thedas peoples, or held themselves differently. Kirk suspected that he fell into the latter category as far as giving himself away as a Rifter. And even though he and Galadriel came from very different worlds, he could not help but like her and be glad of her presence here.

"Do I want to know?" he asked, giving her a side-long look with an arch of his brow over his mug, licking his lips before pressing on. "It's... interesting, to say the least. I think I'll be adjusting for awhile yet - especially when I'm not sure I want to find a place here. What of yourself?"

"What can I say? I'm a dwarf of many talents," Varric replied with the air of someone who knew just how ridiculous a claim like that sounded and embraced that ridiculousness utterly.

"Pleased to meet you, Captainish Kirk," he added and, so sate his own curiosity, couldn't help but ask. "What sort of defense do you teach? I assume it's not sword and shield or Curly would have you recruited by now. Bow an arrow? Two-handed maul? Lute?"

He had to smile at it, hearing the ridiculousness, and appreciating someone who could roll with it. It was a nice change from the severity that seemed to permeate Skyhold.

"Hand-to-hand self defense," he said. "I've actually been teaching Sam, but I suppose if anyone else wanted to learn I wouldn't mind teaching them too." He gave a little shrug and then had to chuckle. "I'm trying to imagine how to defend yourself with a lute and I just keep thinking baseball bat, but it sounds better when you connect."

"I have had several changes of heart on the subject," Galadriel answered honestly, though there was a bit of hesitance in her cadence. She considered how best to explain and, after a moment, began again.

"When I arrived, I had feared the worst for my home and, during my stay in the jail, I was given truly grave news," she said and settled both of her hands on the flagon of ale she carried. "In my grief, I had...resigned myself to being here, to walking Thedas ere the sun rose its last, but...I think, perhaps, my assumptions were false."

"I am more heartened, now, even though I shall remain here for some long time yet. I think of how this place could be repaired, restored, and those thoughts give me purpose."

She took another drink from her flagon.

"As for my shadows, no, I think you would not like to know...but, fear not, they are unharmed. I wish no injury on the people of Thedas, by in large, and I do not think I will come to.

"I am sorry that you are less comfortable finding a place for yourself in these strange lands. Take comfort, though, for very few things in any world are eternal. Our places within them are fleeting, whether we wish them to be or not, so there is no shame in devoting yourself until you can return to more familiar soil."

"Short-stuff or spirit healer?" Varric asked, almost nonsensically and made a vague gesture at about his shoulder height. This was, coincidentally, the same height as Sam the Hobbit and was something of a novelty for Varric.

"And you would be surprised at how many ways you can eviscerate a man with a lute. Orlesian bards are basically just assassins that match your fancy party decor," Varric explained casually and then gestured in the general area of the downstairs. Maryden was striking up another tune.

"Not that one, though, she is just a musician. Difference between a Bard and a Bard."

He drew his hand back and settled it in his pocket. Just as easily as he'd segued to assassins and Orlais, Varric pulled back to the original topic.

"Hand-to-hand? As in unarmed? That sounds iffy but I won't knock it. Maker knows, if you're out your weapons knowing how to handle yourself can only help."

"Oh, the spirit-healer," he said after a minute of working out the difference, realizing that short-stuff meant Samwise.

"I probably would, but I would be just as happy never learning," he laughed a little. "I would much rather the lute make music than take out someone's insides." Because, you know, he really didn't need more things to look over his shoulder for here. Not the he understood the difference between two bards either. Couldn't something here be just as it said?

He was glad enough to change topics too, smirking a bit.

"That's right - bare handed. You'd be surprised what you can accomplish without a weapon," he grinned. "I admit, it doesn't work in all cases, and it's certainly not meant to kill, but it keeps me alive and that's what matters."

When she spoke like that, Kirk got the sense of her being far older than she appeared. It was entirely likely, given that different species had different life spans and counted their years different. She was lyrical, and he liked the cadence of her words, but there was a certain weight to them that made him - not quite shiver, but he felt them somehow, like they were pressing ever so slightly on his bones.

"We were brought here, so it stands to reason there is a way back out," he said reasonably. "I had hoped that my stay would be short lived, but I can see that it won't be quite so easy as I had hoped to get back home." His lips turn up in a wry smile. "It makes me wish my equipment functioned here. It might help to figure out the process of what brought us here, but as is... well, either we'll get lucky or we're going to have to get creative."

Always looking on the bright side, this one. He wasn't one to just give up lightly, not until every other option had been exhausted. And he would never give up trying to get home, back to his ship and his family.

"The advice is appreciated. It is not that I don't want to devote myself to anything, I am just... cautious," he admitted. "I've come to the conclusion I do not have to worry about fully representing the Fleet here, just myself, but even then, I don't want to just throw in with a cause I don't fully grasp, or approve of. Besides that, even making a sort of living here is a bit more difficult than I had thought - the skills I possessed back home that made my career don't translate as well as I had hoped. But that's my issue to figure out, and I'm sure I'll find my niche eventually. I'm just taking a bit longer to get my "Thedas-legs" than I had thought I would."

There was that word again: Demons. Thrown about as casually as a word like 'blond' or 'short.' Ariadne still wasn't clear on what it meant, but she'd begun to hope that it was different from the way it was used back home.

For her own sake.

She followed the line of his gaze again, though, and her troubles were momentarily put aside. Leaning forward, she lowered her voice and said, "You'd better go grab one now, before all the good ones are gone."

Varric's casual smile bloomed into a full grin as she leaned forward and encouraged him to snag a pastry. He could have defended himself, denied the claim, but his fondness for baked goods was hardly a secret. He ducked out of their conversation, briefly, and after a few moments spent examining the trays on the table, returned with what appeared to be an Orlesian creme tart.

Forced to choose between gesturing with his drink hand or his pastry hand, Varric went with the latter, and gestured to all of Ariadne.

"Good eye. It's good to see that the real priorities are universal, right?" He gestured back at the table and made a slightly pained face. "Avoid the ones with the purple frosting--they're mushroom and anise. Truly, truly terrible."

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You don't hate a person because someone told you to

church + hermione, pre-meeting

Galadriel

Varric Tethras

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Pre-Meeting

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