faderift | Get up, get up, get out and get done

WHO: Maxwell and Open
WHAT: General day-to-day activities
WHEN: Before the Orlais shenanigans kick off
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: Nothing at the moment.

Gardens:

Before the day official began, Maxwell took some time out for himself (and Gavin, when the elf so chose) in the quiet of the morning garden. A cup of tea in hand, he would walk slowly along the paths, stopping sometimes by the chess board set in the pavilion to see if anyone were up for an early game. He'd pause to watch the ray of the sun climb over the walls, and he'd stop to check his new mailbox, looking to see if anyone had left something his attention.

Flipping through whatever notes he found, he read them as he finished his tea, and then silently ordered them into a pile to-do.

Skyhold in General (just let me know where you want to be):

The days of getting lost in the great castle were well behind him now, as his new duties kept him on the move. Down into the kitchens and wine cellar, taking stock and checking in with the staff, into the guest wings to wrangle and herd visiting dignitaries, anywhere he was needed and sometimes even those where he technically wasn't.

Even if he weren't necessarily the man who should be dealing with whatever the problem might be, he'd help if he could.

Archery Range:

When time allowed, he stole away to the archery range, both to keep his own skills up and to continue to offer them to others. New arrows, fletching, bows, customization, he was happy to help for a reasonable price. And if you just wanted to some tips? Those were free.

Tavern:

As sun began to sink and the day began to crawl toward its end, Maxwell went off-duty (as much as he could) and unwound the stresses and strains of the day in the tavern with a hot meal, and sometimes a hotter drink on the especially rough days.

This was one such day.

Rumors were swirling that the Inquisition was turning its eyes to the War of the Lions and Orlais. It seemed only a matter of time that they'd be directed into the Empire and Maxwell was... hesitant. He had family in Orlais. On his mother's side.

It was one thing when they were thousands of miles away, regulated to stern, unpleasant letters. The though of perhaps being caught face-to-face.... He knew what he wanted, and wouldn't allow them to change it. But that didn't mean he was looking forward to that ugly day.

He ate and drank and sketched in his journal to try to put aside for the time being, mouth pulling into a thin frown as he struggled to forget.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maxwell's a familiar sight in the Herald's Rest, of course. Korrin, a visitor almost every night, raises her tankard at him and nods from her spot at the bar. Usually, she's at a table claiming it for a game of Wicked Grace or some such, but at the moment she doesn't have anyone else to claim it for.

"Hey, congrats on...." And she trails off as she notes the frown and tension. "...or maybe this isn't the best time."

"Hmm?" Quill pausing, Maxwell looked up - and then up some more - and then small frown between his eyebrows relaxed slightly as he realized who had joined him. "Oh, Korrin, no. You're fine."

He leaned back in his chair and offered her a small, but genuine smile.

"Did you need something?"

"I heard about you being promoted to aid Josephine. That is good news, right?" At the moment, given his demeanor of a moment ago, she can't be sure. "More paperwork, sure, but they wouldn't have assigned you if they didn't believe you could pull it off."

His smile tilted, shifted, became lightly wry.

"I can't say whether they offered to me for my ability, or for my name-" still useful, for the time being, "-but I'm doing my best regardless."

Setting down his quill along the spine of his book, he gestured for her to join him.

"Hopefully it will help."

Korrin does, gesturing for a round of ales. "Every bit does, even if it doesn't seem like it at the time. The Inquisition built itself up from practically nothing, after all. As long as you can put that name to good use, why the hell not? It's the doing that matters."

He glanced down and away, then back as the drinks arrived.

"Hopefully everyone still feels that way if the name stops being worthwhile," he said, reaching for one of the tankards and pulling it closer. "...My family doesn't know yet."

Or, if they did, he hadn't gotten the frothing letter yet.

"I don't imagine they're going to be as pleased by it."

That gets a raised eyebrow out of Korrin, who's baffled. "What, they don't support the Inquisition? They'd rather get consumed by a giant hole in the sky and the darkspawn magister asshole who created it?" Okay, not everyone knows the details of what they're up against, but still. This was sanctioned by the Divine; that should get even the stodgiest people to pay attention.

"Or...look, if it's a sore subject, I can steer clear. I meant to congratulate you, not make your day worse."

He linked his fingers around the tankard and shook his head.

"No, it's alright." He'd been having the argument so much, in the quiet of his own head, maybe saying it aloud would actually help. "They've--" a pause, one of his eyes narrowing in consideration, "--come to see the Inquisition as a temporary necessity."

Putting it politely.

"They're just confused as to why I remain. I, as a man of standing, have a duty to family and position... and I should be fulfilling that. This promotion cements my dedication to the Inquisition, when I'm quite certain they were expecting I would sow my oats--" A twitch. A tightening around his eyes, at the corner of his mouth. "--And then return home where I belong."

Aware of when someone's editing for politeness' sake, Korrin scoffs a little as she can imagine the uncensored but listens without interruption. And as she does so, her faint frown grows. When Maxwell finishes, she just shakes her head in disgust. "Nobles and their priorities. Children shouldn't exist to be pawns on some chessboard. All that rot leads to is a mess of complexes and people too shortsighted to see where the real problems are. Look at Orlais, it's falling apart exactly because of shit like that."

But this isn't about Orlais, and Korrin reins in a budding rant, her gaze growing more sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Maxwell. You deserve better than that."

Maxwell, for his part however, didn't seem at all sorry to hear her set in. In fact, his eyes widened slightly, and then brightened and a small trace of color came into his cheeks.

"...As self-serving as it is to say, thank you," he replied quietly. "I happen to agree, and not just for me. I've never understood-- it's not fair. To be exalted for something outside of my control, something I didn't do."

Not even be seen, for better or worse, but for that - that circumstance he had no say in.

He shook his head.

"That's what matters, to me. The person someone is.

"It's almost as bad as being blamed for what you can't help. Stupid nonsense all around." Korrin sighs, the nods approvingly at him. "Same here. As a mercenary, what you're born as or with doesn't mean shit, it's all about what you can do. If you can't hold your own weight, they won't want you. If you can, that's all that matters. Would that the rest of life were that simple."

He a sound at that, a snort of bemused agreement, his head nodding.

"If only..." Then a pause, a small roll of his shoulders. "Maybe someday. Things are changing. The Inquisition taking us in, giving us all the same chances to prove ourselves - letting us make ourselves..."

He unlinked his hands and turned his tankard so he could grip the handle and lift it to drink.

"There will be some who, when this over, if we don't all go up in flames, that will try to ignore what happened here. What it meant, but I for one don't intend to forget."

Korrin nods, unsurprised at that statement even as her eyes narrow a bit at the thought. She shakes her head, frowning.

"Yeah; the more things have the potential for change, the more some assholes will try to fight it. Nevermind that what came before didn't work for everyone, they just fear change so much that they'd rather keep them screwed over. Well, I'll fight that shit however I can. They don't get to speak for everyone."

Maxwell took his drink, then raised his ale in a small, half-toast as he swallowed.

"First stop, the Treveans," he said, mouth twitching slightly, tone light despite the tightness around his eyes. "Sign me up, if I'm not murdered in my sleep."

Get up, get up, get out and get done

Tavern

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