(open) here is a list of lies they told you

[levered]

WHO: Clarke + You
WHAT: Runs through field with CR-catching net
WHEN: Solace 1-12
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Feel free to PM me here or on Plurk if you want a specific starter or to discuss something!

i. training grounds

There's still something untrained and unpolished about the way Clarke holds her scavenged staff, but she's improving. She's learning the fluid twirls and arcs that Dorian Pavus espouses instead of the utilitarian jabs and swings she picked up in the mountains out of self-taught necessity. An older enchanter, one who fought the war beginning to end, has been helping her marshal her broad waves of fire into something more artful and easy to aim. She's coming very close to looking like someone who wasn't thrust headlong into a war before ever holding a staff in a Circle--but not quite there, and still happy to take advice or to stop for a while, leaning on her staff, to watch someone more skilled.

Sometimes now there's a puppy with her (because this is Dragon Age: Adorable Dogs)--a wolfish little thing saved from looking wild mainly by its bright orange coloring, the kind that could only come from carefully nurtured recessive traits, probably Orlesian. Clarke tries tying her out of the way, but she's determined. She slips backwards out of her rope collar, or chews on the knot of her lead until it comes loose, and scampers across the training field with no care for the danger. Half the time Clarke ties her directly back up, speaking sternly, despite the fact she's not as clever as a mabari and can't understand. The other half of the time, Clarke sits down on the ground for a while, defeated, and lets the puppy chew on one of the straps hanging off of her leather coat.

ii. healing tents

Clarke isn't really a healer--certainly not a spirit healer, but also not even a real healer by the lower standards of creation magic. In the field, she's 's moderately useful. She can help close wounds; she can make a poultice. Other people can do both better, though, especially here, with tools and time.

But she's often found hanging around the healing tents anyway, doing what she can to help: holding people down and still while someone else works on their wounds, fetching things, dabbing foreheads, cleaning up messes, grinding elfroot. She watches the healers and surgeons carefully, but she doesn't ask them to teach her anything. It's not a learning experience. It's penance.

When it's quiet and she isn't needed--if she doesn't leave--she sits next to the fire with a blank book and pencils. She no phenomenal artist; she's eighteen, and she pursues realism over style, laying out diagrams of anatomy alongside doodles of herbs and landscapes from memory. But she's pretty good, and pretty engrossed, unless someone comes close enough for her to raise her head and look a little guilty for--something. Taking a break. Having a hobby that doesn't help anyone. Something.

iii. wildcard

Comments

[fightingale]

Leliana's eyebrows raise, and she looks away from Clarke, not really much of an effort to hide her amusement. "A cunning tactic, indeed. I commend your ingenuity." It seemed far too like something Leliana might have done at Clarke's age. That, or use them to decorate her clothes and taunt the enemy, it truly depended.

The question, though, makes her look back to Clarke, and she considers the ground with a cursory glance, debating sitting before opting not to be presumptuous. Clarke is hard at work, and perhaps more in need of reprieve than company. The company is more an indulgence for Leliana, she suspects, and with that in mind it hardly seems proper to claim a spot.

"I am well, thank you." That is not the entire answer, and so she elaborates. "My health progresses each day. I am told if I acquire a number more nugs it will advance my recovery all the more hastily."

And just the faintest hint of a smile, with that, before her expression is schooled once more.