faderift | (no subject)

WHO: Raylan Givens and YOU!
WHAT: Raylan's getting used to Skyhold. Slowly.
WHEN: Mid-late Justinian, maybe into early Solace
WHERE: All around Skyhold
NOTES: Feel free to tag in whether we've discussed CR or not, and pp me on

shockvaluecola if you want a closed starter or you have an idea that doesn't fit a starter here.

kitchens
Raylan narrowly avoided getting snapped with the towel the cook was brandishing at him, chasing him away from the door.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear!" he protested. "I ain't hardly had a vegetable in months, I'm just trying not to die of scurvy. You trying to make me die of scurvy?"

The cook's response was uncomplimentary in the extreme, and Raylan almost got actually offended, until he remembered the cook might come at him with a frying pan next time. She shouted something to the effect of "and stay out!" then slammed the door. Raylan sighed, perching his hands on his skinny hips, and debated the merits of scratching at the door and whining like a puppy.

battlements
This man is definitely a little old to be climbing on battlements, but here he is. He might be found sitting on one of the high parts of the wall, feet dangling as he faces into the castle, or down in a crenellation, looking out. The lofts of towers with broken roofs aren't safe either, though for the faint of heart, he might just be walking along. Regardless, he'll call out to you as you pass.

"Hey! Yeah, come here a second, look at this."

library
Raylan was not impressed with this library at all.

Yes, it had plenty of books and very nice chairs and everything, but the organizational system, as far as he could tell, was completely insane. History and battle tactics shelved together? Chantry scholarship and spellbooks? Who on Thedas had thought of that, and why hadn't anyone else slapped them in the head? Raylan could be found muttering as he rifled through a shelf trying to find something, having some choice things to say about the brains of whoever had set up these shelves.

courtyard
Raylan had found a block of scrap wood and a sturdy knife somewhere, and set to work. He'd been on a stool in some tucked-away corner of the courtyard for a few hours now, and he was holding a little wooden dragon in his hands. She wasn't particularly detailed, but the broad strokes were there, like for a child's toy. Her wings were spread and her head forward, like she was flying. Raylan was focusing on trying to get her to actually take flight now. He frowned with intense concentration at his wooden creation, willing her to move. The problem was, Raylan had definitely made his creations move and come to life, but he wasn't completely sure how, so his ability to reproduce it on command was sporadic at best.

If someone was very lucky, they might be there when her wings began to flap, lifting her up and away from Raylan's hand.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Watching the dragon fly certainly brought back memories of fighting the Hivernal in Emprise du Lion, he'd need to tell Korrin about this the next time he passed he by.

"I was thinking something a little more normal, or with moving parts little ones could move themselves. Don't fancy my brother or sister or their wife or husband tearing the arse off me if uncle Asher sends a toy that burns the house down next time I send letters from Skyhold," he muttered with a snort. Aedan might not be so bad but Shannon? Shannon would march up the mountain and kill him herself. "This place was some old elf place, you should ask Ellana Ashara or Merrill, they're Dalish, either one of them'd know the proper name of it. New around here then?"

"Oh, that's easy enough. Aye, let me know what they'd like." Carving was a way to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied -- he'd had it well drilled into him that idleness was bad, both by his childhood and by the circle. Carving was just hard enough that he had to keep his focus on it, but not so hard that he'd get frustrated.

"I am, just got here a few weeks ago." He'd say he'd think about asking one of them, except he'd thought about it, and he was deeply not ready to interact with an actual Dalish elf yet. Even the Avvar and the perfectly normal Qunari were still a little much. Raylan had grown up in rural Ferelden, and spent his adult life inside the Circle tower.

"Anything that comes from someone in the Inquisition, trust me. Gave my little sister a charm a few months back that I got in exchange for a bear pelt blanket I made and the squeal she made nearly deafened me." It had been worth it, of course it had because Asher's top priorities in the world were his dog, his crew, and his baby sister all awkwardly sharing the very top rung together. "Probably a dragon though, told them I fought one when I was last back so they'll need one so they can fight against it."

Bear of a man, loves his very tiny family members.

Holding out a hand, Asher grinned. "Asher Hardie, captain of the Boneflayers mercenary company. Been across most of Thedas over the past ten years or so but this place is overwhelming, right? I've lived in Kirkwall so that at least had some Qunari and Tal-Vashoth around at the same time, and a Dalish clan on the outskirts but I'm honestly amazed no one's eaten each other." Yet. There was still time but it was impressive that the peace had held with so many groups crammed in together and being forced to get along.

Raylan leaned over and shook the man's hand in greeting. "Raylan Gibbs, of the Ferelden Circle of Magi."

From where they were, Raylan could see one of the ox-men going at a training dummy. "I went from living in the ass end of nowhere to cooped up in a tower. Never even met an elf until I was nineteen. Let alone...all this," he said, gesturing. So the Inquisition was a bit of an adjustment.

"Shit, what you need mate is a good stiff drink. We had elves on the holdings, a few dwarves would pass through as well and I ended up in the Free Marches by the time the Fifth Blight hit, then I settled in Kirkwall with my crew. I saw the Arishok and the lad squad." Yes, Asher, just call all the warriors the lad squad, clearly the best way to refer to them.

"Korrin Ataash is one of the best people you'll meet her, she's a Vashoth mage from the Valo-Kas mercenary company. Known her for years too and she's on the mage council now, Mal Reynolds runs his own organisation, he's got a fat mabari called Jayne. Where were you from before the tower though? I'm from the arse end of the Hinterlands, family own Hardie Holdings, we send food and other goods to the Inquisition regularly as a gesture of support."

"I think I've met her," Raylan said. "She told me a bit about the mage council. What do you think of it?" he asked, thoughtful look on his face. He was considering joining, but it wouldn't hurt to get an outsider's perspective on the thing before he did. He'd met Malcolm Reynolds, too, having pulled off a thrilling heist with him in the kitchens, but if he could change the subject to the mage council and not talk about where he was from or his family without Asher noticing, so much the better.

"Honestly? I don't really give a shit, it's politics. I only care so far as I get paid and until they're paying me to do something then it's not really something I'm concerning myself with but..." He paused and sighed because he loved Korrin, she meant a lot to him, she was working hard at this but she was free. She'd always been free. He didn't really see the point in it at all.

"Feels like a lot of sitting around with a thumb up your arse to me, having to bend over backwards so this lot are happy, and I know Templars, never met a more miserable bunch of shits in my life and I'm not even a mage. No surrender, no compromise, just tell them to get fucked but I'm Avvar too and our mages do things very differently too." And he had his own apostate who had grown up never knowing a Circle either, the whole thing felt far too much like appeasing the sort of people who'd never be happy even when you broke your own back for their amusement.

Raylan nodded, listening to Asher's thoughts. "Fair enough. I've known some templars like that," he agreed. "Known plenty who were good people, too." The question was which type was in charge right now -- true guardians, or power-trippers?

"Where I grew up was too small for guards so it was the local Templars that did that too. Got them all puffed up and happy enough to make an example of you to the Mother and the Sisters and whoever else happened to be about if you did anything. If you happened to be a boy that liked his grandfather's stories about his Avvar gods more than the Maker?" Asher shrugged. An old wound but it still went deep enough that he'd refused the Templar offers of help when he'd arrived in Skyhold, unloading his wagon of supplies by himself. "And I don't trust anyone that takes that much lyrium, the mage in my company keeps an emergency stash but that's it."