faderift | I'm one card short of a full deck, I'm not quite the shilling [open]

WHO: Jefferson and YOU.
WHAT: The hatter's settling in at Skyhold. Well. As settled as he can be. The guy's kind of twitchy.
WHEN: Latter part of Solace
WHERE: Skyhold and all associated locales.
NOTES: Will add warnings as needed.

They've been shepherded to this keep in the middle of the mountain range with the promise that they aren't the only ones. That they're working on a way to send them all back home again. It's more than he expected, the courtesy and hospitality, even if some of the people in the keep give them wary looks. There have been incidents. The extent of which he's not sure, but it's not a surprise. Traveling between worlds is tricky at the best of times.

And it's never left him with a souvenir like this one. The mark feels like an invasion, like corruption, and it makes his skin crawl. Occasionally he's taken to rubbing at the green mark on his hand, sometimes without noticing that he's doing it. It's done nothing to improve his already rather nervous temperament.

Still, best thing to do for the moment is try to adapt. Don't draw too much attention, observe the goings on in the castle. He keeps his distance from the soldiers and the training ring, though he does on occasion stop to watch. He flits into the tavern and out again, able to overhear some decent bits of gossip.

There's also a library, as it turns out. It's doubtful there'd be anything of use as far as getting them home, or surely they would have found it by now, but it can't hurt to have a look on the sly. He's not quite sure if 'Rifters' are allowed to go poking through their things, so he does so when there are relatively few people around.

This isn't quite the prison he expected it to be. But that doesn't change the fact that once again, he's been torn away from his daughter. That's a bitter pill to swallow, no matter how scenic the vistas or friendly the people.

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He doesn't quite stumble, but he does take notice, glancing down in a hurry at the snuffling.

"Whoa, hey..."

Even as a puppy, he's a weighty little thing, an easy representation of what he'll be as an adult, all muscle and broad shoulders and growing into those massive paws of his.

Brow creasing, Jefferson takes to a knee and offers the animal his palm. "Easy. I'm friendly, see? No reason to go get any of your big brothers..."

Puppy sniffs the offered palm, then licks it a few times, then moves to try and shove his head underneath it in a way that will make it pet him. The whole time, his little tail is wagging fast enough to swat flies. He is clearly happy with any and all attention, and this man smells new and interesting in ways that make his nose tingle and fizz.

He also seems like he could really use a cuddle. Or maybe Puppy just thinks that everyone could use a cuddle.

Not quite the turn he saw his day taking, but hey. He'll take it.

With a quiet grin, Jefferson lowers both hands to vigorously pet the puppy's head, watching the folds of his skin wiggle back and forth before stroking along the length of his back. "Friendly little beast, aren't you? Who'd you get away from?" he murmurs, one eyebrow cocking higher.

Possible there was a whole kennel of these things. War dogs, something along those lines.

His siblings are around someplace, though none of them can match him for size.

His tongue lolls out of his mouth at the vigorous petting, and after a few moments he leans too far into those hands and topples over on his side. Not that it gives him a moment's pause. He just wiggles from side to side on his back, whuffing happily up at Jefferson.

As for the question of who he'd gotten away from, that would answer itself if Jefferson stuck around long enough. Puppy hadn't just started exploring on his own, but had wandered away from Cullen during training. Eventually he'd come looking for his hound.

It's quite therapeutic in a way, just having an animal that's happy to see you, happy to have the affection, and Jefferson eventually sits down in the grass proper in order to thoroughly rub the dog's head and smooth a hand along it's belly.

Which figures, because it's just at that moment that he notices one of the men in armor from the training field making his way over. Looks the hero type, if he's any judge, and quickly springs upwards to his knees in a crouch. Ready to rise the rest of the way if need be.

Old habits die hard.

Puppy is having none of it, and tries very enthusiastically to climb into the lap that has just disappeared. Cullen notices the insistence, and is no stranger to a fight or flight trigger in the man. He extends a hand, palm out and flat. "No. Please. He clearly likes you." The smile on his face softens while Puppy whines a little and butts the flat of his head against Jefferson's leg. "Mabari are excellent judges of character."

"Of course. Can't imagine why he wouldn't want to lick my face off, then."

He'll take it, even if it's just a puppy clamoring for attention that gets him any kind of clout with the natives. After a moment, he drops back down to continue rubbing the puppy's head. "So I'm assuming he's yours, then?" One eyebrow lifts, gaze sweeping over Cullen.

Some kind of knight, or soldier. High-ranking, he'd be willing to guess. Great.

"If we're being precise, I think I'm his." Not that he's not glad. He's thrilled, actually, and able to freely admit it now. Puppy is one of the best things that's happened to him here. He was happy before he got the dog, but he spends so much more of his day smiling now that he's not alone. He sleeps better, too, even if getting a puppy up the ladder is getting more and more difficult every day. "Cullen Rutherford." He holds out his hand for Jefferson to shake it, bending slightly so that he won't have to unseat Puppy in the process.

Right. Shake the nice armored man's hand and make nice. His lips curl upwards at the corners as he offers up the one hand, grasping firmly. If there's a faint tremor, best just to ignore that.

"Jefferson. I'm, a...newcomer, I suppose."

His brow hikes higher. Rutherford. He thinks he's heard that name a time or two in his snooping. "You'd be the Inquisition Commander, then? Or is it another Rutherford I've yet to meet?"

"There is another one. My sister, Mia, though I think you'd be hard pressed to confuse the two of us." If Cullen notices the tremble in the hand he's shaking, he doesn't comment on it. He can only imagine how terrifying it must be, to be so taken from your life and your home, to suddenly be in the middle of someone else's war. He might be frightened, too. "It's nice to meet you, Jefferson. He hasn't been bothering you, has he? He can be a little energetic. He's still very young."

"The pup? Hardly." Jefferson's smile is a little toothy as he drops his gaze to the animal and reaches to scratch behind his loose, floppy ears. "Imagine he's going to grow into one of those big war dogs I've seen down on that end of the keep?"

Made enough sense, the commander having a war dog. A sister, though? Might be of use. Keep that detail tucked away for later. Personal politics always had a part to play in places like this.

"He is, and larger than most." Cullen kneels next to the two of them, and holds out a hand, which Puppy obediently sets his front paw on. The Commander is able to measure it for Jefferson against his own palm, and it's massive. "You'll give any warhorse a run for their money, won't you, Puppy?" Puppy's answer is a happy bark, and when he takes his paw back, it's to place it on Jefferson's knee and puff his furry chest up with pride.

I'm one card short of a full deck, I'm not quite the shilling [open]

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