faderift | [ OPEN ] We shift and turn and swear and yearn

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[ OPEN ] We shift and turn and swear and yearn

WHO: Adelaide & you
WHAT: Catch All for the month
WHEN: June/Justinian
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Wine, swearing, PUPPIES, allusions to demonic violence. Prose or Brackets are fine, roll with what you like most. If you want a specific prompt hit me up on plurk @ here!

[ Courtyard -> Stables ]

When her sister wrote 'their arrival is imminent' Adelaide had not quite considered how imminent Juliette meant. Perhaps she might have been better prepared for signing off with the courier when they herd the rather rambunctious litter of several month old mabari pups to one of the few empty stalls in the barn. Playful things that they are- Dennet is a horse master not a hound master and it will be some time before the appropriate point of authority finds their way down to check on the five puppies ready for imprinting or...whatever it is these dogs do- but they will need minding until they are handed off and as she'd had the fortune to sign for them- Adelaide finds herself sitting in the barn, trying to keep the dogs from gnawing on one another, on her, or on anything valuable. Moments like this are a thorough reminder as to why she is a cat person.

[ Library ]

She can be found, as ever, at her table tucked into one of the unoccupied nooks of the library- a cold cup of tea at her elbow, a sheaf of notes she writes and reorganizes- a quill on occasion hovering over a sheet of blank paper and mimicking her notes stroke for stroke so she might produce them in duplicate. So long as she remembers exactly how she's laid out the paper, it works well enough. For questions, comments, concerns, condemnations or complications that have arisen during research she has made herself thoroughly available.

[ Return of the Attache ]

"No." That is all she has to say. No. She won't bother to stop or listen, she won't bother to mind him in the slightest- that same family attache doggedly tails Adelaide about the hold, hovering just behind with a leatherbound sheaf of papers in his hand while he awaits for some sign that she'll take them or at least listen. He spends the bulk of his time holding the odd extra book or pen or, in a singularly distressing moment, a pad of gauze against a seeping wound as she mends a patient in the healing tents. He's a step down from a personal valet- he is not meant to be dealing with literal bloody commoners and yet- this is his life. Someone please help him convince Adelaide to at least take the papers and look at them.

AFTER JUSTINIAN 19th

[ Stairs ]

After the final ritual is all said, done, and finished Adelaide finds she has a wealth of extra time due to no longer needing to spend several hours picking apart what went wrong with the last and what could go wrong with the next- and at least a few hours extra that she'd otherwise spend training with Martel in the evenings due to the incontinence that is her leg. Magic, even hers, can only do so much and the nasty break in that last fight leaves her less walking with the calm poise she's known for and more hobbling from place to place, staff less an afterthought and more a requirement for keeping her weight off her leg. At the moment she's glowering at the stones underfoot as she takes one slow, shuffling step up the stairs at a time. Her research is in the library- and eventually she would make her way there. Just- give her some time.

[ Healing Tents ]

Here, at least, there are fewer stairs. Adelaide splits her time between minding patients and beginning new notations on old research she'd set aside- tending to those she could while moving as little as possible for the first few days. Her humor is...subdued, somewhat, but that is easily explained by the weight of her work of the past months finally catching up now that she is forced to spend less time on her feet. Now and then she might be caught dozing, chin tipped to her chest, fingers still holding the page of her book in place.

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"All cats are ridiculous. All feline are ridiculous. Ferelden may have crappy wine," an opinion based entirely on Adelaide's assertions, "but at least they know canines are way better."

Speaking of, she better go get that food, and she's almost out the tent before she adds, "I have excellent taste. But I'm glad you like them."

That's gratifying. It also means she better remember the names, but she's been hauling them around for miles, the labels are pretty well seared in her mind. With a mock salute Ruby is out of the tent, and stays out of the tent for a respectable length of time. Eventually? She returns, with a basket.

"Canines lick." She mutters, remembering well the assault by one poodle not long ago. "It is charming but it is...messy."

And they smell of dog breath or whatever it is they've been rolling around in. Remi, on the other hand, smells of ink and elfroot and a little bit of lavender. It's what comes of spending his days mostly draped on Adelaide. Perhaps Anders was right. This is her cat.

Getting her to admit it, now...

"Of course you do." Adelaide means to resume writing or reading or...working. But she only manages to find a fresh book to hold in her lap while she inevitably dozes, head tipped to the side, hair curling around her face.

After her return, Ruby is sure she'll have a response to that licking comment that is both witty and doesn't sound like unfortunate innuendo when coming from someone who is essentially canine herself. She's spared having to acknowledge that she can't think of anything by the fact that the moment has passed, but even so.

Her eventual return was going to involve an entrance with a little flair, but when she sticks her head through the tent and sees Adelaide dozing? She moves more quietly, carefully clearing space on the desk while being mindful of what was where, sets a couple of plates down with a collection of grapes and cheese and bread, olives, some sort of Antivan chorizo, fresh tomatoes and salad leaves. It's not exactly fine dining, but it's summery, and the giant Vashoth had slid some lemon and blueberry tartlets her way in a separate basket, a stealth move in response to his fellow cook's near constant grumbling.

Normally she'd have considered just letting Adelaide sleep, but the injuries make her think that she definitely needs food, and after persuading the kitchen that the medical personnel needed to recover for the sake of all Skyhold, she probably shouldn't let the food go to waste.

"Hey," she says, gently, setting a hand on Adelaide's shoulder very carefully. "Food, Adelaide. You up for it?"

She blinks herself awake, reaching up to adjust Remi where he dozes and purrs, the warmth helping to keep her a little languid. There is a softness around her eyes, a lack of worry and tension that only truly comes from being rested, from dreaming easily for the first time in Maker knows how long. It takes a few years away even as she shifts and some of the usual tension winds its way back in along the shoulders. "Red?"

Right, food. She sits up, hand cupped against Remi to keep him from rolling free as she attempts to shake herself properly awake. "Were you successful in finding any- oh."

That is a lovely spread, light and easy and distinctly not Fereldan. With her free hand she reaches out to pluck up one of the little green fruits, grinning. "I did not know we had olives."

She has to admit, the olives are nice. They're an especially nice change from her diet on the road, which was largely rabbit, hard biscuits and whatever leaves and roots she could forage for. Not bad, but kind of repetitive. Idly, she leans across to grab a grape, rolling it between her fingers as she leans back and hooks a chair with her foot to pull it over, and sits with a roll of her shoulders.

It's nice to sit. It's nicer to see Adelaide looking so relaxed and at ease, even if it's for a moment, and even if there's something sad about seeing that tension start to reach back in from the moment she wakes, like water creeping back over sand on a beach that's finally had a chance to ripple and dry.

"It's possible I promised to bring back a bottle of some very specific blackberry liqueur from a Chantry in Orlais with a very impressive cellar sometime. They tried to deny there were olives, but..." She taps the side of her nose. "Wolf bonus."

With a quiet sound of remembering, Ruby leans down and grabs a couple of cups from the basket. "I didn't know if you'd have anything for the wine."

In retrospect it might have been a ridiculous concern.

"I have heard of this liqueur but never had the opportunity to try it- though I was told some of what we managed to brew in the spire was similar." That fizzing, strawberry concoction again comes to mind, sweet and light and lovely. There's a soft mew of discontent as she shifts Remi back down to her lap so she might sit up and prepare herself a plate, which earns a soft apology. He can curl up there later. For now? A woman has to eat.

"I have...teacups? Those are better." One can drink brandy from a teacup. One cannot exactly drink wine from a teacup- Adelaide has tried, the nose is all wrong. It cannot be done. Adelaide gestures for Ruby to hand over the bottle so she might open it.

"In the interest of being honest- yes I am injured, yes I am trying to heal adequately- but one of the Wardens has need of a healer for an excursion in the Western Approach in a week's time. I will be joining them." There that is- honest, yes? Up front.

"I'll grab an extra bottle when I pick it up. We can use it for inspiration for our brewing, huh?" Spoken but a bit of a grin, before she gives the kitten a sympathetic smile, head canting a little to the side. Life's hard, buddy. Hopefully the little guy'll work through the pain.

She's actually partway to leaning forward and rumpling his fur when Adelaide gestures for the wine, and she retrieves it, holding the bottle out by the neck so the body is easy to grab. "Are you sure these are better? I thought everything was better in a teacup."

Then again, this is Ruby, who as a general rule also things everything is better in leather, when its available to her. Her free hand reaches over to scritch under Remi's chin, and she smiles at his stupid cute face until Adelaide's words make her look up in surprise.

"The Western Approach?" With... all the sand. And the slopes. And the dark caves with creepy things. Her jaw works for a second, though there's no anger in it, just a worry that's etched into the lines of her mouth, into the sharp focus of her gaze. "Sounds pretty serious, if you're the only person that can get it done."

She's not going to insult Adelaide by asking if there's no one else who can be sent, that seems like an obvious solution that would probably already have been considered. Instead, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I have been told it mixes very well with champagne." Which should come to no surprise, something that sweet mixed with something that dry? Would be lovely, even without the bite and the fizz. She waves off Ruby's concerns over the cups and uses the usual twist of force magic to uncork the wine which she then takes a moment to frown at. "This is best served chilled- ah."

There are times when she forgets that Ruby is not uncomfortable with her skills. With this rather innate part of her. Adelaide actually manages something of a smug twist to her lips, frost gathering at her fingertips as she builds a delicate spiral of ice that is topped with a channel, one that rises from the table where their glasses rest and splits to reach both. It forms and firms, leaving a wide funnel at the top where she finally pours the wine.

This is not at all an attempt to distract, not even a little. "Walking with me in the gardens as I learn to adjust to the weight of this strange boot and brace Remi has designed for me would be wonderful."

"Fruit and champagne, gotta respect a solid combination." Although she pauses. "Maybe not lemon, actually. But you know what I mean."

She hopes, anyway, that Adelaide knows what she means. Strawberries and champagne, orange juice and champagne... they might not be such a big thing, here.

The easy uncorking and the mention of chilling has Ruby quirking a brow, curious. When the frost - from moisture in the air, or from something else? Drawn from the Fade, was that how it worked? Whatever it was, exactly, watching the frost grow and form is beautiful, filigree stretching out in the air and curling into pathways for the wine, and there's a sort of delight and fascination in her gaze as she watches. It's beautiful. It's different from any kind of magic she's seen.

"I can definitely do that." Glancing from the ice and the flowing wine to Adelaide, hooking one leg over the other, fiddling with a frayed bit of leather and smoothing it so she can refold the leg of her shorts. It's fidgeting, more than outright concern for the state of her clothes. "Magic can't just fix bones, huh?"

How she has managed to not notice the lack of pants until now, Adelaide couldn't say. But once she has set the wine aside and let the sculpture do the work of chilling it as it works it's way down, she has nowhere else for her eyes to go but Ruby- and then?

Take in, slowly, what it is she is wearing. Or. Rather what it is she is not wearing.

"Ah-" Legs. Everyone has them, she has seen quite a few in various configurations and levels of concealment, but something about having so much exposed and so little hidden seems more naked than an actually bare body. Enticement is the word her mind will supply later. For now she's simply- distracted. "Not as such, no. Not easily. We encourage healing- flesh and sinew and soft tissue is quicker to mend and easier to coax along. Bone? We can speed to a certain extent- but after a point it would leave the bone weak."

Ruby leans back in her seat, resting against the back of her chair and letting her fingers roll the rosewood ring with its shifting grain patterns around her finger. The sacrificed and severed leg of her pants did offer another boon - leather strips for impromptu bangles that she braided together while hitching a ride on a wagon across a stretch of Orlais. There's five of them, in total, that slide along her left wrist, twisted and plaited each in a different way. The moment of distraction is unnoticed, or rather it is mistaken for thoughtfulness, and Ruby nods, brow furrowed a little.

Rumpelstiltskin had fixed a gunshot wound in moments, apparently, but could he fix a bone? She'd never really thought to ask. It'd never been a pressing point, and she avoided Gold when she could. "Some things have to be done the old fashioned way, huh?" Her smile is sympathetic. "That sucks. But I will walk with you as much as you need. Or like? Whichever's the bigger amount."

Braided leather around slim wrists should not be so distracting. It is something new this...aesthetic appreciation of women. That is all it must be, an appreciation. Little more. She does not have time for such things and it is far too late in her life to find women anything more than passingly lovely. That is all this is.

She clears her throat and sips her wine, crafting a little plate of Ruby's offerings from the kitchens. All in all it is exactly what she might have chosen for her self, honestly.

"Unfortunately, yes. But the more I walk the more I will be able to adjust and perhaps speed things along safely." Otherwise she'd be doing more harm than good. "I need to walk- but I would lie to walk with you."

"Consider me at your disposal." She smiles, bright and earnest and stunningly sincere, before picking up her wine. Condensation rolls down the outside of the glass from the chill Adelaide's magic has given the wine, and she looks at it with wonder for a moment before shaking her head and holding out her glass. "To... your speedy recovery?"

She needs to assemble herself a plate, but her head is still processing the broken leg, the going on a mission with a broken leg. Adelaide is either just straight up amazing, or amazingly stubborn, or maybe both. It doesn't clear away the worry, not by a long shot, but... hey, if anyone can do it, it's probably Adelaide. And she's the one who keeps mentioning having faith, right? She'll try to do that.

"Merci." She raises her glass in turn and settles back, sipping from her chilled glass. This is-

It is pleasant, it is warming as much as the chilled wine is refreshing. This comfortable certainty that no matter how strange and stressful the day might be there would be Ruby with her honest smiles and effervescent energy. Someone to remind her not to work quite so hard, quite so long.

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[ OPEN ] We shift and turn and swear and yearn

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