faderift | you still can't look me in the eye

Entry tags:

you still can't look me in the eye

WHO: Leliana & various!
WHAT: catch all for July/Solace
WHEN: from roughly the 8th on throughout the month.
WHERE: Skyhold, various.
NOTES: set ups all in prose, but will happily match brackets if you prefer them! Open starters and a bit of a timeline on Leliana's health in the post (more to be added as we plod through the month), closed starters in the comments. If you'd like to do something that isn't in the open feel free to get in touch with me via pm or pp @karmacharging!
WARNINGS: Likely reference to illness, attempted murder, actual murder, and the range of terrible things that come with being the Nightingale. Will update as necessary, and endeavour to label subject lines.

OOC Recovery Deets.
After the team returned from the Brecilian Forest on the 27th, Leliana was given a series of potions with the ingredients that the team has acquired. Her recovery was not immediate, given the brutal effects of the poison, but the groundwork was laid. By the 1st of Solace she was able to speak again, although her voice sounded terrible, and some of the scarring had receded. By the 4th she was able to stand, although No One Approved. Since the 6th she has been walking, but only a very little. She normally has to sit in the presence of others, but from the 14th onward her strength has noticeably improved, although she's still thinner than she was before. Report on the Plot here.

OPEN.
8th - 11th - The Rookery.
It is safest to linger about her tower, still. Better that she be seen beyond it and that her recovery be confirmed, and yet if she were to falter or fall or appear weak that would only do harm. Her mind has recovered far more quickly than her body, and some motions still feel strange and foreign. Writing takes longer than it used to, but she is nothing if not determined. A hideous sort of stubbornness has been one thing that has never changed, not since she was a little girl.

She is writing or reading letters and orders and reports near constantly. Beleth and several scouts did much in the way of dealing with smaller matters, while Charter saw to other more pressing matters. Despite their efforts, however, there were a good many things that only the Nightingale could see to.

Pausing in her writing, Leliana flexes her hand, shaking it out a little, before looking towards the staircase. "Enter."

14th - the day after the Snow Battle Royale.
Though she did not stray down to the valley for the fight itself - such a move seemed a singularly poor decision. The Nightingale was not a social butterfly, and though it would have been an opportunity to assert her good health it would have been... inappropriate, she suspects, to attend.

That is not to say she didn't watch from the Rookery, and receive regular reports from her scouts on the progress and any Events of Note, whether they were interpersonal reactions or displays of skill, or just particularly amusing instances of people being decimated with snow.

Now she walks through the valley, observing the remains of the fortresses, still largely intact with the cold that always lingers this high in the Frostbacks, snow and ice crunching underfoot as she moves carefully, curiously, through the field. The cold bites into her lungs, and she swallows a cough that threatens to rattle her back, resting her gloved hand against the polished ice.

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She freezes briefly at the words, halfway to the desk, before continuing more stiffly than before. Since the initial discussion of the task, Avery has rarely spoken of or during it to anyone, and she's surprised to be addressed about it now. Especially by Leliana herself.

Unsure of how this conversation is going to go, she answers awkwardly, "That's right. I hope it's been..." Maker, how do you talk to important people? "...acceptable?"

Leliana exhales a breath that might maybe possibly if you squint pass for amused. Not a laugh, but amused. "Quite acceptable. I wanted to thank you for your efforts."

A moment of pause, as she considers. "I understand several of my scouts have been rather..." hmmm "... close with their observations. I hope it has not proved too great an inconvenience."

Leliana's thanks only get her a small nod of acknowledgement, but as for the rest... Well, Avery's first impulse is to say something less than kind about the scouts. She manages to contain it though.

Instead, she shrugs and says, "I get it. They don't know me. I wouldn't trust them if it was the other way around." She hesitates, frowning. "But I wanted to do this."

Wise. Very wise. Leliana, for her parts, tilts her head slightly to the side and shrugs.

"Spies trust precious few, especially in the wake of such events. A suspicious mind can frame willingness as opportunity." A sad fact, but a fact nonetheless. "You are new to the Inquisition, yes?"

"Newer than most," she answers with a slight frown. Honestly, the Inquisition still feels a bit new to the Inquisition to her. Compared to all the other organizations they're working or fighting with across Thedas, this one is a babe in arms, only relevant at all because of holy providence or strange coincidence. Avery's still not sure which she believes, but they're doing good work either way. She knows that well.

"But I take it personally that someone turned the food and drink of this place into a weapon."

Listen, let's not get overly logical about that, the Inquisition is starting to be less like a drunk baby giraffe.

Leliana cannot quite help a slight smirk at that. "I take it rather personally, myself."

It's good natured, truly. "It has occurred to me that each of the Advisors could be targeted as I was. Some might argue that all sharing their food might make them safer, but... I have my concerns. If the other Advisors were amenable to such a suggestion, would responsibility for all of our food be something you would consider?"

Suggestion, she says, as if she wouldn't make it the case either way. Probably. Maybe.

To say she's surprised by the question would be an understatement. Sure, Avery knows what she's doing in a kitchen, but she cooks... well, like a Fereldan. And now she's being asked if she wants to be responsible for the meals of powerful religious figures and foreign nobility and such?

"Me? Really?" she can't help but ask. "I might know how to make a hearty stew, throw in a couple herbs that's good for when you're recovering from something. But that don't mean I know how to cook for nobles, like those three big la-di-das down there whose meals I can't even pronounce half the time."

She is, arguably, still a little scrambled. Still recovering and piecing things together and remembering how to be the Nightingale, which does not feel so completely easy as it once was.

(The Nightingale was never easy, but it had fit and she was well used to it, the grooves have had been worn in. Now it feels... ill-fitting. Strange and foreign, and second skin that stifles and impedes her.)

Leliana quirks her brow, leans back, and observes Avery with slight amusement.

"Really." A pause, and then, "in fairness, Commander Rutherford and Seeker Pentaghast are both soldiers, used to eating whatever is served them. Ambassador Montilyet is of more refined taste, yes..." Her gaze narrows, though it is pensive rather than suspicious. "If you do not want to be charged with such a responsibility then I will not press on the matter. If it is simply a matter of concerns as to your own skills, training could be arranged. From my understanding, the three tal-vashoth who joined our ranked some weeks ago may be willing teachers."

Tal-vashoth. La-di-da. Same number of syllables and it's even got some dashes in there. It's all the same to her (though maybe best not to say that to their faces?).

It takes Avery a while to answer, and she silently frowns in thought. "I can do it. If you want." She opens her mouth to keep talking, but hesitates, looking uncomfortable.

"I don't know if you know this," she finally continues, making a bit of a face when she remembers who she's saying might not know something. "But twice now, I think, you've sort of saved my life. Indirectly. So if this helps..." Repay that. Or whatever the right word is. She just lets the thought hang there and shrugs awkwardly. Nobody said she was good at this.

Perhaps not. Burly might find it funny; the others were rather more moody. Or, at least, likely to object.

Leliana suspects this may take some teasing out. "I would appreciate it," she says, tone clipped and careful, each word sounded out cautiously. It is challenging to genuinely present choice when you have a reputation for... murder, sabotage and manipulation. "But I would not force you into a vocation for which you had no interest or desire."

But she pauses, curious. "There is no debt to be repaid for the work done by the Inquisition, or during the Fifth Blight."

"I'm not against it. It just fits a bit odd, doesn't it? Like a mabari in a ball gown." Or like Avery in a ball gown. It could happen, I guess, but that doesn't mean it wouldn't be strange as anything.

And she's clearly not so sure about the debt by her expression, but she nods anyway. "Doesn't mean it didn't happen. Doesn't mean I can't... want to do something. Something that helps." Maker's breath, she sounds so stupid. How does this come so easily to some people??

"Considering Ferelden," she comments, rather dryly, "I've little doubt that mabari in ballgowns are practically commonplace." She's here to be difficult, Avery, sorry about this new life feature.

Even so, Leliana observes Avery carefully as she settles, back against the wooden chairback, fingers idly woven together and elbows propped on the chair's arms.

"No, it certainly does not. And I am certainly not one to dismiss hands willing to be take up tasks needing doing." She is far too pragmatic for that. "Shall we consider it settled, then? We can look into training as opportunities arise and as we realise particular areas of necessity, no?"

She actually almost smiles at the jab, letting out an amused huff of breath, but she doesn't comment further. Still, there must be a joke in there somewhere about putting a mask on one and sending it to a party in Orlais to see how long it takes anyone to notice the difference, right?

"I guess so," she answers simply, though there's a small, prideful part of her that wants to insist she doesn't have 'areas of necessity.' Some noble saying her cooking is below him without even trying it because it didn't cost an arm and a leg and come with ribbons wrapped around it doesn't make it true.

But... if it's good, if it's interesting, she's not against learning some new things. She's already picked up a couple of new tricks from those three Tal-Vashoth, even if they do butt heads sometimes.

I guess so. Not the words of enthusiasm and commitment she might generally anticipate, but they might be as much as she'd tend to expect from Ferelden, truth be told. It wins a very thin smile from her.

She could be over-casual in turn, but resists. How very mature of her.

"Good. I will send a message via scout, once we are properly begun and I have instructed the Advisors of this change in schedule." Leliana pauses, frowning a moment. "Do you know anything about Antivan cuisine? Nevarran?"

Hey, give her a break! This whole situation is throwing her off, and she is bad enough at words to begin with!

Avery just nods to the instructions, but as for the question, she pauses to think. "A little," she answers after a moment. "But not much, honestly."

If only refrigerators and word-magnets had been invented - she might have been able to provide Avery with them to help her navigate this struggle.

"Very well. Perhaps it will be necessary to coach you in those regards. Seeker Pentaghast is not overly sentimental, but she is fond of some dishes from home. And Ambassador Montilyet would be especially appreciative, I think, of the effort."

Josie might not admit it readily, but Leliana knew her friend to be homesick - for Antiva's sun and warmth, if not for her little sister tormenting her. "Although I am sure Burly will be content to provide desserts. We need not consume all your time with indulgences for the Advisors."

See, now that. That makes sense and has some appeal for her. A dish from home, from when you were younger and things were likely simpler than they are now, can be a powerful thing. And a way of helping and showing appreciation that comes to her a lot more easily than something silly like talking about it.

Avery nods, a little of the tension leaving her shoulders, and says, "I can do that."

Leliana's smile is thin, but genuine. "Excellent. I am glad to hear it."

Very glad to hear it, and ever so slightly gratified that apparently that she has not been rendered incapable of persuading kitchen staff to comply to her plans. That would have been a grim day for the Nightingale, indeed.

"If you have any concerns you can raise them with Bonheur, she will gladly bring them to my attention— though I do not imagine you will be lacking with opportunities of your own."

Given the serving of meals. They are quite the window for an opportunist to abuse.

"Yes," she answers, then after a moment remembers to add, "ma'am." Wait, is that even the right thing to address her as? Is it sir? Or... Sister? This is why Avery hates this stuff! One second of confusion over the right word and you've gone from polite to completely disrespectful.

Forget it. She just barrels forward. "I'll be sure to do that, if I have any."

"Very good." Leliana turns her attention to her food more properly now - she has probably been neglecting it a little, letting the stew cool a little too much, but she is not overly concerned. Long has she allowed herself to develop bad habits, and while she is not fool enough to neglect her health and allow herself to weaken when she has so much work to do, she is inclined to let her food wait until it is no longer warm.

Businesslike, "Unless you have anything you would like to raise with me now, then I think we are quite finished?" It isn't dismissive, it's just...

... kind of dismissive.

Avery takes no offense. Honestly, she's a little relieved at being able to make her escape. Not because of anything against Leliana personally, but more her discomfort with this sort of situation in general.

She's ready to turn and go, but hesitates just a moment longer and fumbles awkwardly at the question in her head. "Do you... have any... preferences?"

Leliana's eyebrows quirk a little. She is not quite surprised by the question, but she wasn't fully anticipating Avery to delay her pressing need to escape. Another piece of information to add into the picture she is assembling, piecing into the overall impression of Skyhold and their people, as much as of Avery herself.

"Me?" She leans back in her chair, considering. "I have rather a fondness for Fereldan stews, in fact. You need not fret over Orlesian delicacies for my sake." Although— "There are a couple of recipes I have always enjoyed. I could see that they make their way to you, if you so wish."

"Of course," she answers, nodding again and taking a step backward. "I'll leave you to it then."

For a moment she struggles with a thought, wanting to leave it on a note about Leliana's recovery. How she's glad it's going well? How she hopes the rest of it will be quick? But she gets more and more self-conscious the longer it takes for her to work out how to word it without making an ass of herself, and she simply turns to leave.

Between her recovering throat and Leliana's own inclination to silences in general, she might have simply let Avery leave in silence. In this instance, however, it feels... remiss, to simply let her exit without acknowledgement.

"Thank you."

It is not much of a farewell, admittedly, but at least it is one. The thanks are more for what proceeded, than for Avery taking her leave. And, with that, Leliana retrains her focus on... on her paperwork, actually, although at least she's also eating. Close enough.

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you still can't look me in the eye

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