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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.

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The Vashoth mage is taking a much-needed stroll to clear her head and stretch her legs, and do something that isn't miring herself further in politics or training until she drops. Fortunately, there's always something happening around Skyhold, new people to meet or events/missions to plan, and so on. Case in point....

Korrin comes to a halt and glances around, just to make sure that the man isn't referring to someone else. But then shrugs and heads over, having a little time to kill and undeniably curious. "Look at what, exactly?"

Ariadne generally wasn't one for dozing in the middle of the day, but she'd crawled up into a branch and found a breeze. It was just so relaxing that she couldn't help but shut her eyes. She liked being in the place between asleep and awake. Both because of the way her mind wandered and because of the possibility that she might be able to fall through a rift and find herself back home.

Mostly the first one, though.

Time passed funny when she drifted off like that. And when she opened her eyes, she didn't know if it had been a few minutes or a few hours. All she knew was that there was an unfamiliar scent below her.

She peered through the branches, discovering a strange man. He seemed to be hard at work...staring at a piece of wood. Not just wood, she corrected herself. It looked like some kind of dragon. Ariadne shivered involuntarily. Nothing good was ever associated with dragons. Not in her life. But she had to admit, when it suddenly sprang to life, it took her breath away.

Literally. She let out an audible gasp from above.

There usually wasn't too much commotion coming from the kitchen that she knew of, except around meal times when things got very busy. Or during other times of stress. So overhearing one of the touchier cooks shooing someone out was worth investigating.

Rachette peered down the hallway at him for a few moments before approaching. He wasn't what made her cautious--mess with a cook, maybe you don't eat as well as everyone else. "What's scurvy?"

Amélie is walking along the battlements, minding her own business, when a man's voice calls our from somewhere nearby. She almost ignores it, but upon realisation that there is no-one else around, she responds, "Are you talking to me?"

Whittling was a hobby Asher picked up years ago to keep his hands busy when on the road or taking his turn at watch when inns and taverns were few and far between if you went far enough. It kept him awake or it helped calm him if he hadn't managed to clear a fight from his system, something that wasn't always so easy when you were a Reaver.

On his way back from a delivery run, stopping to catch his breath when his lungs started to burn the way they always did now, he found himself watching the man working away. Never a hardship to admire someone with skill going about their business - he had his pelts that he worked, often with a few of the elven children from the valley camp at least hanging around to peer at him. But it was the flapping that he caught just as he was about to leave. That was what made him stay and clear his throat.

"Can't say I've seen that one before," he said with a grin and a nod. "D'you ever sell any of those?"

"I think someone carved something into this wall here," he said, then turned and looked up at her, visibly startled for a moment. He'd seen Qunari from afar, and seen them around the castle, but hadn't actually spoken to one yet. Shit. Somehow they were even bigger than he'd thought.

He shook himself out of it quickly. She wasn't a vague group, she was just a person he was talking to. "Looks old, but I can't read it. Right here," he said, underlining it with his finger.

That drew Raylan's attention, and the dragon settled back into being just wood. "Sorry to startle you, miss," he said, giving her a nod. "Didn't think there was anyone around."

Of course, dragons weren't the only thing he could carve and make to move, but he wanted to figure out how to make them breathe fire, also. It was the little things. Raylan was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to make any of his creations do something that their real counterparts couldn't -- no talking dragons or fire-breathing bunnies. He was sure there was some explanation for that about essence or something.

"I don't know," Raylan said. "It happens when you don't eat vegetables. And it's bad."

He was walking down the hallway towards Rachette, more to get away from the kitchens than anything. As he was walking, though, the door opened and a brownish, mushy lemon was chucked at the back of Raylan's head. He yelped and rubbed the spot where it had hit as he looked down at the sad thing on the floor. Clearly past its prime, and probably why the cook had been willing to waste it to express her indignation.

"Of course I am, who else is around?" he called out. He'd climbed up into the loft of a broken, uninhabited tower, and discovered that he could climb up and call down from the walls there. He'd also discovered a nest full of eggs up here, which seemed like the sort of thing that someone ought to notice and do something about. Fuck if he knew what, though.

Raylan didn't look over, keeping his focus on the dragon as it lifted away and went soaring. Its movements weren't quite right, just as the anatomy wasn't quite right, a little overly simple. But apparently it was serviceable enough, and she opened her mouth as if to roar or breathe fire as she banked back toward Raylan.

"A few times," Raylan said. "I can't usually get the magic to hold long enough." He held out his arm, and she landed like a falcon, turning to crawl up toward his shoulder. "I can't always get the magic to take in the first place, but it ain't too hard in this castle." It didn't feel the same way as when the veil was thin in other places, but there was something here.

"Oh." She sank back, looking properly embarrassed. A healthy, pink flush rose in her cheeks. "Don't worry, I'm not anyone."

She was a Rifter, after all. And she never could quite gauge what that meant to any one person. It was always best to be self-effacing to begin with. Either someone would accept her, or they wouldn't.

Best not to assume anything.

Ariadne gathered her long, rope-like braid over her left shoulder, peering down at the dragon in his hand. "She stopped."

Her gaze following where his finger underlines, Korrin tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. "I can't read it either, but Solas might, given that he's the one who lead us to this place. If anyone's an expert on Skyhold, it's him. Then again, he also said a lot of groups claimed it between then and now, so...who the hell knows."

Still, it's worth a shot.

"Oh." She came to a stop, as though expecting him to really have been addressing someone else all along. "What is it I'm meant to be looking at, exactly?"

Thankfully, Rachette being so short, the rotted lemon had little chance of hitting her. She mostly just crossed her arms, cocked a hip, and smirked. "You really pissed off the kitchen staff. I'm sure they could've found some use for that whatever it's supposed to be and nobody would be able to tell the difference."

"You know-" Mal says, lounging against the opposing wall like he's just waiting and not, well, someone that got kicked out 'bout five minutes ago for more or less the same damn thing. "It works better if you catch Marian. The one in there right now, Angie? She's got no soul."

Not like he's hurting for food but- this guy? This guy's hurt'n. Maybe if he does a good turn he can snag something for himself. "We give it ten, maybe fifteen? Angie'll slip out the other door to head down to wherever they're stor'n root vegetables and Marian will be in to start prov'n the dough for tomorrow morning. We act real sweet? We might get somth'n."

He says, having been chased out by Marian with a broom at least twice before, but hey. Hope springs eternal.

Well, she was breathing and looking at him, so she was obviously someone, but she indicated the dragon before he could say anything to that effect. "Aye, she did," he said with a sigh. "I can't seem to get the magic to take, sometimes. Gettin' it once is a good sign, though, let's see if I can do it again."

Raylan frowned in concentration, and it was much quicker this time; the dragon started flapping her wings, lifting off from Raylan's hand again, and she flew away, up toward the tree. Raylan suspected it was because he was thinking about said tree, now, but the dragon came and landed on a thin branch near Ariadne, opening her mouth and leaning forward like she was breathing fire or roaring.

"Bald fella, right?" Raylan asked. He knew better than to point out someone's elfliness. "It don't look that long, so I don't imagine it's too complex," he said. "But with all the shit I imagine people have gotten up to in this place, you never know, could be useful. Could be magic."

"Come up here and I'll show ya. There's a ladder through the door in front of you." He then stepped back from the edge, but he'd be there if she came up, crouching over the nest.

"It's clearly rotted," he said, frowning in consternation. Mostly, it was the idea that he'd pissed off the kitchen staff that badly, and that she seemed to be making fun of him for it. "I'm sure they won't miss it, if they're willing to throw it. I ain't done nothing that serious, I swear." He glanced back at the door as he came level with Rachette, then looked down at her and gestured vaguely. "Come on, let's go elsewhere before they decide to throw a knife next."

Edited 2016-06-25 20:35 (UTC)

Raylan was already better fed than he'd been since last summer, but he could tell that he was still thinner than he wanted to be, and when he sat down to eat, it was the vegetables he dove for, not the meat. He could still feel the craving for fresh, sharp things over the well-cooked stews and pies that were easy to get. If he never saw ram meat again, it would be too soon.

But Mal seemed to be an expert at this sort of thing, and Raylan gave him a calculating look. "You reckon so?" he asked, glancing back at the kitchen door. "I ain't even tryin' to get much," he said. "Just a damn orange or somethin'."

He moved away from the door either way, fearing that if he stayed too close, Angie would come out brandishing her wooden spoon.

"No wonder she kicked you out. You know how much oranges cost this time a year, this far south? You know how much they gotta pay to get some poor sonsabitches to haul them up the mountain?" Mal shakes his head sadly. "It ain't cheap."

He lets that hang long and solemn in the air before nodding to himself, mind made up. "Means we gotta go at this sideways and sly. You were say'n somthing 'bout Scurvy? It's the right angle t'play up if you want an orange. I can back you up, they know I'm a sailor."

Least when he's on a boat. "Might be able to snag two while Marian's not look'n if we're quick and quiet like."

"Or somethin'!" Raylan protested. Anything with a color that wasn't blood-red or expired-gray.

"I ain't hardly had a vegetable in eight months," Raylan said. "Before I came here, anyhow. Scurvy's what happens when you don't eat vegetables." Raylan clearly had a tenuous grasp on what scurvy even was, but he knew that not eating enough plant matter was bad. He hadn't dared forage in his time in the Hinterlands -- too dangerous to be roaming, and he wasn't confident he knew what was safe and not safe. "So you're suggesting one of us distracts her and the other grabs something?"

"Shit, if you're that hard up there's elfroot in the garden you can chew on. Healers just got it grow'n all over with mint." Except they don't like it when someone that's not supposed to starts digging around their plants for something to eat. "Scurvy's what happens when you don't have 'nuf fruit. Why d'ya think boats always have lime on hand?"

The fruit, not the mineral shit. "Just stand and look sad and skinny and pathetic while I do the talk'n. If she reaches for the broom, oranges are usually in a wicker basket close to the back door. I'll try for some carrots, you go for the oranges."

Ariadne let out a delighted laugh as she watched the tiny dragon take flight, clapping her hands wildly. Her childlike wonder was genuine, if a little incongruous with the rest of her shapely form. It was harmless magic after all. A bit of entertainment on an otherwise gray day in a very, very gray place.

"What's wonderful!" she told the stranger, turning her bright eyes back to him, once the dragon began roaring. "You should show that to some of the refugee children. I'm sure they'd love it."

...although they might try to chase the dragon and accidentally break it.

As long as there isn't 'knife-ear' in that description, Korrin isn't likely to take offence. Pointing out someone's race is fine, it's the slurs that get to her. She raises an eyebrow at the last part, perking up a little. "Just an arcane researcher, or are you a fellow mage? I haven't seen you at the council." Not that his absence is the only one, but it's her main association with other mages of Skyhold.

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Battlements

Courtyard

kitchens

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courtyard;

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Kitchens

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