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WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Catch-All Log for pre-Orlais Solace
WHEN: Pre-Orlais, various
WHERE: Skyhold, various
NOTES: References this a lot.

I. a few of my favorite things
Skyhold is nothing like a ruin. Standing proud above the valley, it did nothing so undignified as hunch, precarious though its perch on the summit might have seemed-- Skyhold, is no vulture. Still, it has its scars, weak ankles, gaps where none should be, all healing, all being repaired, if slowly. Time heals all living things, and in the sunlight of summer, even the cold mountain air seemed healed of its frost, where it crossed the walls and dipped down into the courtyards and gardens.

It's a beautiful day for a picnic-- a teaparty, rather, and Obi-Wan has taken his tea outside, to meet a friend, and discuss the business of the week. Are you that friend? Yes? No? Would you like to be? Come, sit, bring your gripes, and your small joys. Have a cuppa, or pet the dog, a magnificently large white Mabari that seems to have cornered the local market on begging for scones. Settle in. All, are welcome here.

II.shadowland
In the shadow of Skyhold proper, pushed up under her like an errant kitten, half-forgotten, is the small camp of Grey Wardens. Obi-Wan does not come here often, but more often lately than he has before. More to the point, he's here now, walking with just the same calm intent one might use going down a perfectly clean and well-kept corridor, rather than the uncertain gaps between tents. In his sand-colored robes and not so much as a dagger at his belt, he might seem unarmed, if you had never seen him fight. But maybe that's what the mabari trotting at his heels is for?

He's looking for someone. Maybe you can help him find them, or at least find his way out of your business. Or maybe you are the someone he's looking for?

III. le festine
Obi-Wan steps into the local tavern not without trepidation, though he hides it well. There's always the moment of adjustment, between the cool sunset air of outside, and the warm, life- smelling atmosphere within. A likewise adjustment must be made between the tired, day's-end lives outside and the generally celebratory, or surly, or uninhibited minds within. Still, he endeavors to adapt swiftly, casting over the crowd-- he came here to meet more person than one, and there they are, all clustered in the place of their custom. He crosses the room and takes a seat, settling into the chair even as he drops the burden of a sheaf of paper on the table.

"What a day," he says, more to the ceiling, than to anyone in particular, before straightening up, "Excuse me, that was rude. Good evening."

IV. wildcard me

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In no way like his first visit to this office, Obi-Wan comes. Alone and unguarded, by his own choice, and in his own time. He knocks, then has to delay himself ensuring that the Mabari following him doesn't simply bull ahead into the room ahead of him. His hissed conversation with no less than a dog is audible through the partially-open door.

Sit. No, you're staying here. Don't give me a look, you-- sit. Now, stay. Think of it as guard-duty.

This last is apparently enough, and he is able, finally, to open the door properly and come in, closing it behind him. He offers Cassandra a look of mixed chagrine and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry about that. Shall we?"

Sure, why not? Korrin's not about to turn down an invite with food involved. It's a nice change from meeting at the tavern all the time, anyway. As much as she loves it there, the Vashoth woman enjoys other hang-out places as well, especially those providing a view. This most definitely counts, for the sake of people-watching.

Bringing some fresh hearth cakes from the kitchen to go with said tea, Korrin smiles and waves as she catches sight of the distinguished rifter liaison. Her smile widens upon seeing the white mabari. Good think she brought some jerky with her, too.

"Going native, I see!"

Edited 2016-07-07 15:03 (UTC)

For as long as she could remember, Ariadne had been warned against taverns. Her parents had had practical concerns about it. After all, Alastrians were hunted for sport. It was dangerous to spend too much time in a place where they all congregated. Tahafra had low expectations. He reasoned that anyone who came to a tavern came only to drink, and he cautioned his niece harshly against it.

And then there had been Aunt Lysia's warnings about taverns. They'd come much later in Ariadne's life, when she grew into her looks.

Apparently, men were all pigs who would take advantage of her.

Ariadne was skeptical at best.

Anyway, she liked the tavern. It was a meetingplace of sorts for the Rifters. And it reminded her of Marcel. Most importantly, it was a fascinating place to just sit and...overhear things. Ariadne was frightfully good at eavesdropping. And sometimes, she could hear stories that made it very, very worthwhile.

Nothing of the sort this evening, unfortunately. But she perked up a little when Obi-Wan arrived. She had a lot of questions for him.

Cassandra looks up at the sounds of scuffling feet in the hallway, followed by a murmured voice. After a moment, she places the voice. Obi-Wan. So he had come, after all.

She doesn't greet him when he comes in, just looks past him at the door for a moment, before looking up at his face.

"You have a dog?"

Her tone and expression are neutral. This is not a woman about to beg him to let her pet the puppy and feed it treats.

"A recent acquisition," He says, "I happened upon her while on some recent business in Orlais on behalf of Leliana's interests. As a favor to her."

Or, more accurately, to her friends. He had no way of being sure Leliana would survive to appreciate it until after the fact: Obi-Wan had gone as part of the group meant to apprehend those behind the plot to assassinate the Left Hand. Former Left Hand. He wasn't sure how much Cassandra knew about the whole business, really.

"She followed me back. Now, I'm told that once a Mabari decides they belong with you, there's no arguing with it."

Edited 2016-07-08 06:54 (UTC)

Her expression softens, just slightly, at the mention of Leliana. She had known, naturally, about the attempt to assassinate her friend, and had been at her side throughout her recovery. She had also been vaguely aware that a group had gone to Orlais to track down the assassins, but had been too concerned with Leliana herself to ever learn the final makeup of the team.

That Obi-Wan had been among them - well, it is a surprise, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. It means something that he had volunteered to go.

"You know Leliana?" she asks, momentarily distracted from the official reason for this visit. And from the dog.

Edited 2016-07-08 07:04 (UTC)

"Yes," He replies, seating himself. It's the same chair he had the first time he was here, though the atmosphere is a good deal less restrictive, "Apparently, getting along with her pets is a point in my favor-- I'd like to consider a friend."

He likes animals, and animals like him in return. And whatever else they may be, Obi-Wan is willing to testify that Leliana's beloved nugs are excellent judges of character. And Leliana herself is not unskilled in that arena, either.

"We have a common ground, between us."

"The way I see it," Obi-Wan replies, sitting cross-legged and sipping daintily at his tea, "Native is forcing itself on me, not the other way around."

This to the whining protest of a round-eyed Mabari. Look at these eyes, the very picture of a sad puppy-face. He allows this to go on for a count of three and then tosses her a scone. All is duly forgiven.

"She hasn't a name, yet. Or at least, she didn't come with one."

Settling down by him, Korrin chuckles. "Fair enough, I guess." She tosses over the jerky to go with that scone, knowing what's needed to get into a mabari's good graces. (Not that it's usually difficult.)

"Hm, what kind of name are you looking for? Something from your area, or more Thedosian? I could dredge up several names from history, if that would help."

"I received a lecture on the road from one of the scouts, native to Ferelden," He replied, the dubiousness of this experience communicating itself clearly in the set of his eyebrows and the low, conspiratorial tone, "Mabari are noble creatures, don't you know."

Well, this one could be noble. She comes from Orlais, or at least that's where Obi-Wan found her. It would be fitting for her to have been the product of some ill-intentioned Orlesian effort to somehow breed their own version of nobility into the species. It is a mark of his trust in Korrin's judgement that Obi-Wan continues as he does.

"According to that, we can only suggest names, and hope for the best. So-- you first."

That conspiratorial tone gets a grin from Korrin, who beckons the mabari over for some petting. "My best friends are Fereldan, so I heard that all the time. Not that I disagree...."

As for names, she pauses, thoughtful. "You could always name her after Queen Anora, or Asha, the 'Queen Mother of Thedas', or perhaps Ser Aveline. But we have an Aveline in the Inquisition, so that might cause some head-turning. Hell, name her after Andraste and see how the Chantry sisters react."

She nods, smiling softly. Cassandra had never personally seen the appeal of either Leliana's nugs nor her ravens, but the Nightingale's devotion to her pets had always been...touching. Not that she would ever admit any of that to Leliana.

"That is good," she says quietly, before reminding herself, again, of why she had called him here. She sits up straighter, her expression growing severe as she looks into his eyes.

"We must discuss what happened in the Fade."

"Well, now there's a curious face," Obi-Wan smiles, settling into his chair to meet her regard, "I imagine you have a few questions for me?"

More than a few, if he knew her at all. Ariadne was a sweet girl, but she carried around her the shadows of a less than sweet past. Obi-Wan would be lying if he claimed not to be curious, himself, but he wouldn't be the man he was, if he were to pry.

So instead, he signals for a pair of drinks, and offers Ariadne the floor, "Go ahead, I'm ready."

Obi-Wan mimics her businesslike shift, going from a genial tilt, arms folded, to something more straight-backed and formal. Time to go to business, is it?

"Yes, we should," He is perhaps not a truthful man, but he is honest, and he had promised, her an explanation, "Would you like to start with anything specific?"

Ariadne was very rarely given free rein to ask questions. And those that did give to her soon came to regret the decision. If she were honest, she could happily go on for days and almost certainly never get bored. But as much as humanoids loved to talk about themselves, they had their limits.

Small when compared with hers.

She smiled, dipping her head politely. "Thank you for agreeing to talk to me," she said graciously. "Please understand, I know that you may not want to tell me all your secrets. You can just say if you don't want to answer a question. I won't mind."

It was better than having someone lie to her face.

"But..." she continued, "I would like to hear about this Jedi order of yours. It doesn't sound quite like anything I've heard of before."

"Yes," she says. She knows exactly where she wants to start - or rather, where she has to - and she doesn't break his gaze.

"I owe you my thanks. You saved my life, and led us both safely out of the Fade. You could have easily left me behind, but you did not. I am sure I did not make things - easy for you, but still you remained at my side, and - and helped me, despite myself." She tilts her head downward, a tiny gesture of acknowledgement. "Thank you."

Edited 2016-07-08 18:17 (UTC)

He does shy away from the directness of her gaze, but manages by virtue of raised eyebrows and a surprised blink, to convey his bemusement. He hadn't been expecting that; if anything, he expected to be chewed out for his trouble, yet again. Will wonders never cease?

"It's not often I get to hear that," He says, quietly, obscurely grateful when his voice remains steady despite the unexpectedness of the moment. And it's true, the Jedi have the gratitude and loyalty of many-- but one rarely expresses thanks, for a lone governmental representative swooping in to turn your life upside down, "You're welcome."

Cassandra nods, finally glancing away. Her gratitude is sincere, and she would never have considered not thanking him, but all the same, she's glad that conversation is over with.

"And now," she continues, looking up again, "you will tell me exactly what a Jedi is, and what you can do." Her eyes narrow. "And this time, you will not assume that I am incapable of understanding, or unwilling to try."

Obi-Wan watches as each name was suggested, then glances back at Korrin. For herself, the dog pricks her ears, but seems more engaged in dealing with the jerky than with any of the suggestions. Obi-Wan shrugs.

"Well, if we're starting at the beginning, we might as well call her Anakin," That's a joke, and in a sudden alarum, he glances sharply-- no. No, thank goodness, the dog didn't want to be called Anakin, "...After my former apprentice."

That was a close call. Whew.

"But, I suppose I don't really need another Padawan so... no, don't you dare!" But it was too late, the dog's round, blunt-edged head had come up and he barked twice, a strident, deep-chested sound, shockingly loud, "Really? Really. 'Padawan' isn't a name!"

Edited 2016-07-08 19:51 (UTC)

Observing the dog's reaction, Korrin laughs. "I think your mabari disagrees. And to be honest, I've heard far worse. 'Doghren' and 'Barkspawn', for example. At least yours could be a name here, since it won't mean anything for Thedosians."

"Fair enough," It wasn't that he thought of her as stupid, only that at the time she'd been the next thing to open emnity. Well, the time to make amends was now, wasn't it? "...Where to begin?"

Hard enough to know how to explain so much of it. What a Jedi is, what a Jedi does... so much of it was dependent on circumstance.

"You already know the purpose of the Order. That's what makes a Jedi more than just a person with particular skills. You aren't born a Jedi-- you're trained for it," Diplomatically phrased, that. He thinks back to Anders' accusations, not of dishonesty, but of a kind of conversational cowardice that would side-step any straight answer, "Actually, let me start over. From the beginning."

He shifts again, leaning forward, letting go of the defensive, cross-armed posture. His hands lift, briefly uncertain, then fall, loose fists propped on his knees. Deep breath, now.

"The Force is an energy field, created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together," He began, carefully, then paused a moment to think before continuing, "Each individual life is more or less sensitive to the vagaries of the Force. Some are completely oblivious to it, while others live entirely on its energy. Mostly, we all exist somewhere in between."

That was the foundation, done. He paused for breath, almost long enough that it was as if she were being given a moment to reply. But no, he wasn't done yet; he continued.

"If that sensitivity is nurtured, trained, and put to use, it's like any other skill; it grows. Without the training, they might seem luckier, or more intuitive than average, but it never amounts to much. Most Jedi join the Order as children, but most Force-sensitives never even do so much-- and even those who are brought into the Order often don't complete the training, and eventually leave. If they do, they have the option to become a Jedi, assuming they can successfully finish an apprenticeship under a proven Jedi Knight. That is what a Jedi is, in short."

Edited 2016-07-09 00:40 (UTC)

Rarely does Morrigan drink, usually only late in the evening when she has company but she needs to escape from the silence of her chambers or her study while Kieran is off with friends before her own thoughts threaten to consume her the way they have of late. And to think she came to the Inquisition in the first place hoping for a place to work without interruption. If things with Leliana weren't-- well, if they weren't what they are then she might be able to laugh about it but with her dark red wine, tucked in a corner, all she can think about are her cold hands, how small she looks, those terrible marks on her throat.

"I quite understand," she murmurs in agreement to him because today has been a day in a succession of days, but there's a smile of sorts on her face. "The sort of day where I wish I had a chevalier I might set ablaze, tis an amusing sight as they decide what honour dictates they must do."

Despite conditions the camp was more homely than Weisshaupt had ever been. The tent she shares with Inessa has begun to feel more lived in and they have added small touches to make it feel more their own than some rutty tent in the middle of more tents. The company of other Grey Wardens is also, surprisingly, not as awful as she thought it might have been at first after everything that had happened.

She is leaving her tent, intent on going riding with Kelpie when she spots him and pauses. He is a hard to miss with the sand-colored robes standing out among their blue and grey armor. Finishing the braid in her hair, she lets her hands fall and approaches curiously.

"Are you looking for someone?" It was the only viable option Ciri could imagine since it wasn't like anyone was just going to be taking joy walks through their camp.

"I'd be happy to tell you what I can," He begins, then stops, hesitates, because all of everything is too wide a field to find a target on, "Where should I start?"

"At the beginning," she replied. "It seems like a very good place to start."

And here she thought that Humans had a very, very linear perception of time.

"I suppose with the founding of the order," she clarified. "There must have been some reason why it was created. An original purpose?"

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X. good company (for Cassandra)

1

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