faderift | Sieze the day

Entry tags:

Sieze the day

WHO: Sadira and YOU
WHAT: Various places around Skyhold at different times of day.
WHEN: Beginning to mid Solace before the shenanigans in Orlais takes off.
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: N/A

I.The Training Grounds- Early morning

Sadira was in the training yard, early enough that the sun was just beginning to caress down the mountainsides with light while she was busy flailing a training sword around. She'd gotten up early in order to have some small section of the training yard to herself, though there were others who had arrived earlier than her, and somewhere were just now arriving. It seemed the training yard got little rest, which seemed, to sum up, her appearance. She had the look of someone long used to functioning on too little sleep.

Despite her apparently poor sword skills-- she was overreaching as well as leaving herself completely open on the left side-- she at least had good footwork and showed little signs of tiring quickly. Clothed as she was in a simple linen tunic, brown knit pants, and worn leather boots, it was near impossible to guess that she was a mage unless someone had spoken to her previously about it. She was working with a will building up a good sweat while trying her best to perfect her abilities though it was apparent that she was in dire need of some instruction.

II.The Library- Mid-day

Tables were naturally at a premium with all the pet projects going on and research, interests and what not being done that Sadira had opted instead for a quiet spot surrounded by a stack of books that she was carefully trawling through. A casual glance through the stacks might have drawn more than a few puzzled looks as her interests seemed to vary widely from historical texts by Brother Genitivi to various copies of Hard in Hightown along with books on varying cultures, chevalier fighting techniques, constellations and southern plants. She also had a few scattered papers scribbled with and notes, annotations and page numbers that occasionally rustled when the odd draft caught them. Although she tried to keep her mess contained to her little haphazard area, it wasn't going to take much for some of it to spill over into someone's way.

She'd traded her training clothes for softer mage robes, though her staff remained hidden away. A lingering scent of soap clung faintly to her skin, signs that she'd visited the hot springs shortly before making her way here. The mess of black curls that she usually wore draped over one shoulder was instead pulled back into a loose ponytail that fell her back so the till damp ends might not accidentally drip down onto her work. Currently, she was scribbling a note using a charcoal pencil rather than a quill with one tome resting on her knee, and another one spread out beside her with her finger resting on the line she was currently copying down.

III. Battlements- Evening

Sadira has once again found an out of the way spot, this time on the battlements. As the sun dips further and further westwards, she is looking up with a book carefully cradled in her lap, and a sheaf of notes weighed down by a rock next to her. It appears that she is setting herself up to stargaze, or at least looking for the first stars that appear before it gets too dark to read or check her notes. Draped around her shoulders is a threadbare but still somewhat serviceable blanket. It seems she is settling in to be here for awhile. She even had an earthenware pot next to her that suspiciously looked as if it contained something to chase away the chills of the oncoming night.

IV. Wildcard!

She can also be found roaming around in varying places if that would work better. Feel free to PM me or

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Just as quickly as she looks hopeful it's gone, and it breaks his heart, showing on his face. This is what the Circles did. Ground mages down until they simply focused on existing alone, as if that was all they should do. It isn't right.

"They're actually real, they're actually here, and how do you know if you've no skill with griffons? You've never seen one before." Anders gives her a small smile. "You're reading because you don't want to stick with what little you know, right? So don't. Skyhold holds a thousand opportunities. Thedas holds thousands upon thousands. Try things. Fail at some of them. Succeed at others. It's life and everyone should have a chance at it."

Anders jerks his head in the direction of where the griffons are being kept. "I could even introduce you to the roostmaster and the griffons. They bite. And claw, and sneeze, but they also can make adorable noises and they very much enjoy having their heads scratched. It's worth a try, isn't it?"

She wasn't even aware of the pain she caused, thinking it was perfectly reasonable to curb her desires. Granted it was harder to suppress her wants on things she was keen about, like becoming a Knight-Enchanter. His insistence that the griffons were real perked up her floundering desire and brought a bit of spark back to her eyes. It was a wonder that Anders sounded so lively. Then again, if her suspicions were right and that he had been one of those agitating for the fall of the Circles he had every reason to be lively. They at least seemed to have an idea on how to function beyond guarded walls.

"You make it hard to say no by tempting me with creatures out of legend. Griffons are like flying cats in a lot of ways, right? Bird headed cats. Watch out for the claws and the biting and it should be okay." She looks at Purrelden as she speaks, talking herself into seeing the rarest creatures in all of Thedas. "I'd be mad not to take a chance. Not many people can say, I saw a real live griffon."

Even as she spoke, new opportunities began to open up in her mind, despite the trepidation that came unbidden.

"Exactly. Aside from how they may want to eat your hand, they're exactly like cats." He scratches behind Purrelden's ears as he leads the way toward where they're living. "I'll leave her outside when we go in; there's no call to risk my cat to them."

It doesn't even take long for them to get down that way, down some stairs, across the courtyard.

"My favorite is Chawcey. He bit me yesterday." A beat. "He's not my favorite because he bit me, that part's incidental." He's taking a mage out of the library to try something new. Excitement makes it a little difficult to be fully articulate. Purrelden gets deposited tidily outside with a gentle reminder to stay nearby, and then Anders holds open the door for the mage he... hasn't asked the name of yet. Mostly because he doesn't want to give his. He wants this to be pleasant for as long as it can be.

Trepidation and excitement writhed in her, adding a bounce in her step, though there was a touch of wariness as well. It had little to do with the thought of a dangerous and predatory animal wanting parts of her as a meal and more to do with not wanting to draw too much attention to herself. A year long habit was hard to curb.

"Chawcey? What an interesting name." She couldn't even begin to place the origin, but assumed it was perhaps Ferelden in origin. Not that it mattered. She was soon going to see a griffon, provided this wasn't some sort of joke. "Why do you like that one so much? And just how many griffons are there?" She asked softly as she slipped past him. It hadn't even occurred to her to mention her name, partially due to a life among people who knew who she was for most of her life and also because she'd fallen out of the habit of introducing herself to strangers while playing dodge the witch hunt.

Her first question gets a slightly sheepish look as Anders shrugs and closes the door behind them, nodding to Maja, the griffon's caretakers.

"He likes me. It's only fair that I like him back." It's that simple. He's not so used to being liked that he'll turn away those few easily, though he hopes she takes it more for joke than seriousness. "And there are 13. Watch for the one with the white face, he's more bitey than the rest. And one of them likes to sneeze. A lot. It's goopy. But..."

Anders reaches down and doesn't get his hand attacked, so he takes the opportunity to scratch the top of Chawcey's head and behind his ears. The griffon settles down, after bumping his thigh hard enough that there might be a bruise later. "Just like this. Reach slowly and be prepared to yank your hand back. The good news is that I'm a healer, so as long as they don't swallow what they bite it can be put back on." She gets an amused smile; he's half-serious.

It was easy to accept what he said at face value. Being mage outside of the Inquisition was a lonely life. And it was also easy to feel lost within the Inquisition itself. The suspicion that he was an agitator for mage freedom faded away at that moment, transformed into a small smile. After all, it didn't matter now. Later if the circles were rebuilt it might matter, but here all that should matter was Chawcey.

Smiling at him, she watched his interaction with the griffon, studying his moves as if it might unlock some secret to petting the creature. Finally, she dared to be bold reaching out to scratch lightly at the top of the griffon's head.

"Its a good thing you're a healer at least. Makes this easier knowing I have someone willing to help me if they get bitey. Though I lost my finger to a griffon is certainly something worthy of bragging about." Although she spoke to him, she kept her attention focused on the griffon-- cubs? Pups? Young. In the off chance, one decided her hand was worth biting. Her own nervousness however soon had her withdrawing her hand as another of the griffons came closer.

"That's the spirit. Sort-of." The smile on his face grows a little. "Who doesn't want a fancy scar and story set? They get people..."

Ghostface flares his wings out and Anders trails off, watching. "That one's one of the most touchy. If he starts getting annoyed, that's when leaving's a good idea. Keep an eye out, talk nicely and quietly, and if he flaps his wings again, we'll depart. The first step in dealing with griffons is learning when to leave the room."

Ghostface is watching them, but that doesn't keep a smaller one from heading straight toward Sadira, looking like she wants to ram her head into a calf too. "And this is Buggie."

She also smiles, though the moment that the white faced one begins to react she too watches it carefully. She might not have faced off against overgrown, lethal fluffballs in her time spent wandering the Orlesian countryside, but that didn't mean she hadn't learned to assess a threat.

"Wise course of action. As much as a scar or two might be good for a story, a mauling, on the other hand, is something I'll happily avoid." As instructed, she kept her voice pitched low, speaking in soft and soothing tones. "Buggie? Who named them? And for that matter what are all their names?" This was fo course crucial information.

She dropped her hand down as before, reaching out carefully as she lightly scratched the smaller one behind the ear. Any headbutting by the griffon is welcome affection, though she isn't quite certain what to do about it if the griffon decided to get destructive with her robe.

Anders jerks a thumb in the direction of the Warden woman watching them very closely.

"Roostmaster Maja named all of them. And their names... Let me see if I can get this all right."

He looks around the room, lips moving silently for a moment as he mentally ticks off Buggie, Chawcey, and Ghostface.

"The two over there," he points, "are Potato and Butterball. Butterball is of course the larger. The black one in the corner is Buttons, and most likely to take a bite out of you. Or eat my cat, which is why she's is outside. Hopefully still there, and not gone after a mouse, but she knows to come to me if called. Mm. The grey speckled one is... is Blanche. The one coming up behind you is Slobbaface. Be wary for your socks."

Anders frowns at the rest. "...One of the others is Burp, and I can't recall the remaining names, I'm sorry."

"Goodness, those names are certainly colorful and descriptive after a fashion." Though names like Potato and Buttons certainly didn't sound like they'd be respected on the battlefield.

Shifting her attention back to him, a gentle smile returned, "Well you've done more than enough for me, and I cannot fault you for not remembering them all. There are a few of them!" She chuckled softly as Buggie headbutted her again, demanding more petting. "Speaking of names, I'm Sadira by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Anders looked down, taking an extra moment to sidestep Slobbaface and scratch Chawcey's offered wing. He'd avoided it as long as possible, but there was no more hiding. He looked back up and nodded to Sadira.

"I can't give a name, but I'm known as Anders. And yes." His voice was quiet. "That Anders. The pleasure is mutual if," the corner of his mouth twitched up wryly, "you still feel that way."

The humor and good cheer fell away from her face in increments as her mind tried to process the man before her with the abomination that had led to the destruction of her world. If not for the Griffons she might have reacted more viscerally, screaming or storming out. Something, anything. Instead, she stood there, going completely still. Buggie continued to headbutt her, growing insistent for attention. Only a sense of self-preservation made her even twiddle her fingers against the griffon's neck to keep the creature from nipping.

"You." It was all she could manage to say through the sudden tightness in her chest. Her breath grew shaky, "I need to go." Somewhere, anywhere. It didn't matter. She just couldn't be in the same room as him. Not until she calmed down. Risking harm, she pushed her way past the griffons managing to just barely keep herself from running.

Her reaction wasn't a surprise, and he exhaled as he let her go without saying anything else to her.

"Here, Buggie," Anders murmured quietly, soothing the griffon as she got abandoned. "It's all right." It wasn't, really, but there wasn't anything that could be done to change it just yet. He'd keep working. He was alive, after all. There wasn't anything else to do.

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