[ open?? closed? schrödinger's log?? ] heroes always get remembered

[goodforsaken]

WHO: Lex Luthor, assorted guest stars, and YOU??
WHAT: General intro purposes? Get you some arms and armor made, Inquisition! Geek out in the library! Be confused by the incongruous noble all up in the Undercroft!
WHEN: Approximately now - the end of August.
WHERE: Skyhold: the Undercroft + Library + the buffet option
NOTES: Starters in comments. As it stands no warnings are required; I'll edit here a/o subject lines if that changes. Here is Lex's info post for anyone who'd like to run with the idea that they've heard of him/had contact before!

Being possessed of the incredibly informed opinion most not!Orlesians have of Orlais when they've only ever visited and spoken mostly to people wearing silly hats, Lex is more than comfortable with his first forays into the Inquisition taking place in Skyhold and not Halamshiral. That's where he's ultimately most useful anyway; he suffers no illusions regarding any diplomatic capabilities that don't involve ensnaring largeish globs of money.

The day side ....globbage occurs, however, is not this day or, nor is it whatever other days this log ends up involving. No, instead here we are in Skyhold, where Lex's general occupancy encompasses the following:

Comments

i. ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴜɪʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ (the UNDERCROFT)

[goodforsaken]

Wildly presuming the Undercroft contains more than like ...a single dude and his assistant the fantastic mustache*, this was Lex's first investigation upon arrival. Before settling in to the private room in the noble quarters he will almost never visit, before unpacking anything aside from the necessary tools, before shunting his small NPC cabal of "volunteers" off to see to an obsessively details list of tasks, before so much as sitting down. He'll sit down when he's dead!

A few days from that point this remains the most likely place to find him: sorting through the assorted materials available, deep in work on tasks assigned long before he got there, generally digging carabiners in and making himself right at home. The aforementioned volunteers (read: his employees) have taken care of spreading any unofficial word required there's a new smith around for whatever needs members of the Inquisition might have, especially those who have particular specializations to adhere to. He's the average human without any special abilities, so all your enchanting needs will still need to be carried out elsewhere, but beyond that he exists pretty much to be tested.

*his actual mustache, not Dagna

[apostafuckyou]

The word spread had reminded Raylan of a problem, so one afternoon, he headed on down to the undercroft, holding his very sad staff.

He had no idea what was involved in repairing -- for all his inept whittling, no one had ever wanted to trust him with something that might shoot fire if he touched it wrong. So he came through the door and planted the butt of the staff on the ground (the blade had broken down to a nub long ago). A young man with red hair that Raylan didn't recognize was near the door. "Hey," he called out. "You that new fella?" Raylan figured he might as well get in before the man got loaded down and a wait time developed.

if i lapse into present tense just shriek in my ear

[goodforsaken]

Lex looked up from what appeared to be an ankle-deep pile of scrap metal; some of it was useful, some of it he wouldn't have used to make equipment for someone he really, really wanted to see perforated a great many times. (Beginning as we meant to go on in regards to figurative language, apparently.) "That new fella would be me," he drawled, syllables elongated and reasonably friendly, at least for the moment.

He stood and made his hands reasonably presentable, although that was only so possible when a person spent a great deal of the day bathing in soot, but they were clean enough to shake with - which he didn't - or handle a weapon, which he ...also didn't, once he'd crossed the floor to be able to view at critical distance the supposed staff planted before him. "This is something you're bringing me as an example of how not to do my job, I hope."

Ah yes. Lex Luthor, king of tact.

towards the end of august eh eh

[eviscerates]

She is a woman with a mission. It's a ridiculous mission, but it's a mission all the same. Ruby has a piece of paper rolled up in her hand, and crosses to the undercroft early in the day - early enough that hopefully she won't be detected making her way there, even if there probably are plenty of reasons for an artificer visiting the Undercroft not being at all suspicious.

A knock, and then she pushes the door open, sticking her head through curiously. "Hi. Is this a bad time?"

[goodforsaken]

"No worse than usual," contends Lex, sticking his head up from a pile of armor designs over at his little workstation. It's humorous; the fact that he can hear her at all says it's at least a better time than if he were like, engulfed in flames!

He puts down his quill, although apparently he's waiting on details before deciding whether or not he needs to get up for this. "Can I help you?"

[seesobserves]

Well. Not quite a single dude and his mustache.

One of the workstations in the Undercroft sports an array of equipment more delicate than the type used for smithing. There are glass vials, and jars of herbs and powder strewn all over the top of it. Take care, should you wish to go poking around at the contents: some of them are booby-trapped. Sherlock's dealt with people nosing into his things before.

When Sherlock comes down for a day's work and finds the place crawling with volunteers and activity, he stops short just inside the door, taking in the whole scene before brusquely and wordlessly moving toward his station.

The first thing he'll be doing is check to make sure no one's tampered with his things.

Late august.

[justice_is_blond]

A new smith is always interesting. They bring different experience, different styles, and Anders tends to be curious about what's new. He appreciates fashion, and nice-looking, useful things, which means he drops by and watches the new employee for a time. He seems to be making his way around the undercroft as if he knows what he's doing, so Anders approaches after a good fifteen minutes.

"Are you the new smith?"

[goodforsaken]

Heyyyyy, Lex also appreciates fashion, how exciting. ...or not, but it is an observable detail; his clothes are within the bounds of what's appropriate for the work, but also highly individualized and well made. He also should, as per previous mention, probably be wearing about the same hairstyle Anders is, but isn't, wavy hair just floating around his face like he's impervious to fire or something. Which he is absolutely not.

"That would be me, yes." His head tilts, birdlike to go with the rest of his general...birdness. Anders will just have to fill in on the feathers part, since he does lack those. "Are you asking to satisfy curiosity, or is there something I can do for you?"

mid-to-late august.

[elegiaque]

The next time Gwenaëlle finds him, it's in the same place as the last time - a bit less harried, none of the birdlike distraction that made it seem like she might blow out again with the wind in her haste to look at everything and be done again. Asher is gone, his funeral done, almost everyone she knows in Skyhold either in Orlais or off on some other adventure; there's no where else she urgently needs to be this very minute.

"Hello," she says, blithely, as if she makes a habit of visiting the undercroft.

(She does not.)

"I thought I would - see if you'd had any time for Kieran's dragon." She doesn't expect finished, but maybe something to look at. Besides anything else she might have come down here, incidentally, to look at.

[goodforsaken]

Well, if anything else might have been Lex's arms, they are all ...out and stuff, just being muscley and lean and awful how dare he--anyway. The look he gives her highlights that this is not exactly a usual haunt for her, but not in the sense that she can be expected to state her business quickly (even though she does) and then resume unhaunting it. It's just wry. As is the "Lady Vauquelin," with which he greets her, gesturing expansively in a 'one moment please' little wave.

The fact is, her being here isn't any more a departure than his not completely ignoring a person who doesn't have some direct benefit to him, so, not a bad start. Lex's player does not have all the talents he does, so this is ...definitely stolen from the internet, but look, we have to have something for our pretendy funtimes here and no one is making any money, so! So. Like most Thedosians he's never seen a dragon, but he did all that research and found enough similar elements to have created cohesive imagery. For a medium sized child, probably the most important element is that it has lots and lots of teeth.

Which Gwen may indeed look at! Along with all the rest of the important dragony bits, probably most closely resembling that Ferelden Frostback guy everyone tries to kill while they're way underleveled. Nothing assembled or finely detailed yet, but coming along.

"You're not in Halamshiral," he observes, somehow making it sound like this is a profound depth of discovery. Then again the fact that he gives even the remotest of shits is kind of profound, to be honest.

ii. ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴇʏ; ɪ ᴀᴍ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ (LIBRARY)

[goodforsaken]

Beyond all that sweaty and forearm-showing-offing work, Lex immediately establishes himself as a frequent patron of the Inquisition's library. Possibly he's the placement of the books he donated, like a shelter worker vigilant in how a pet is getting on in its new home (...go with it), possibly he is drawn to books he hasn't already read like a thing that's ...highly drawn to things. Haunting with particular interest anything on science, crafting, and treatises on the impossible.

[demonicbeauty]

Of all the menial tasks that Ariadne performed to better endear herself to the natives, returning books to the library for them was one of her favorites. She wasn't much for books. It was a point of pride that she could read and write at all. But there was something utterly magical about libraries. Maybe because they hadn't really existed in Deleo. But just the idea of having so many stories all in one place.

She wondered that there weren't more people around all of the time.

As she dropped the latest stack off, she caught an unfamiliar scent in the building. There would be no harm in investigating. She wasn't obligated to be anywhere at the moment, so she curiously crept into the stacks, following the new scent.

yikes, sorry this took so long!

[goodforsaken]

Depending on a person's interpretation of 'smell,' Lex smells like ...soot, maybe, fire and sweat and a general incongruity of hard work; metaphorically money or amorality or something, who is to say!!

Besides Ariadne, obviously. The point is: Lex has found a volume on making explosives, which while certainly nothing as impressive as the Qunari have come up with, catches his attention partially because it might be useful, partially out of sheer curiosity. He possesses no preternatural senses, but he is very, very good at knowing when he's being observed, because he is uh, paranoid as shit. So the book in front of his face lowers, eyeline scanning the surrounding stacks warily.

[youwonscience]

Acquiring paper on which to take notes was a small but major improvement in Cosima's life in Skyhold. She's trying not to be wasteful, which means a lot of abbreviation and comically tiny letters, but she can now actually take notes on what she's ready.

She realizes that history and geography are probably going to be of most immediate use, but she can't help herself; science will always be her first love. She's working her way through a medical text, slowly, and trying not to mutter things to herself out loud, but at least one quiet "No way" slips past.

[goodforsaken]

As a person who goes through parchment like they might make it illegal tomorrow, Lex can sympathize. As per previous mention in uh, some other tag somewhere else, the environment is too new and unfamiliar for him to regulate another voice to background noise; if it were the average Thedosian across the way he might just be annoyed, but as things stand Rifters are still an unknown quantity and therefore interesting.

"They don't have a whatever that is where you come from?"

...is how he chooses to. Greet her. No beating around the bush conversation wise!

[arcaneadvisor]

Recent forays into the realms of discussions of dragons and demons with the Rifters send Morrigan up to the library; there are plenty of things she can understand herself but having to slow down and remember how to explain them to people that haven't ever encountered them in the past? Exhausting, quite frankly. (Look she still isn't over any time she's had to explain the Fade when she's pretty much lived with knowing what the Fade is for as long as she can remember.)

Anyway, the library doesn't have anything on elves that she hasn't already read and scoffed at, but she has Kieran who reads voraciously, so she's pretty much always making the trip. And you know there's a volume on glassworking that she might be interested in. Just to be safe.

[goodforsaken]

Safety is important! Or so Lex hears from like, other people. But in fact, due to two coincidentally great tastes that may (?? who knows) go well together, that in this case being Kieran and dragons, Lex has already procured what is, if not the largest volume on dragons in useful text, definitely largest in that it comes up to his like ........waist, and has huge, beautiful pictures. He has lugged it over to one of those large, flat tables such as research materials are stored on, and is sketching determinedly what appears to be not any one particular dragon, but one composed of the various limbs (...and heads, and scales), of several.

Maybe when he comes to retrieve a second volume they can reach for the same one!! Dear Maker, how do these coincidences contrive themselves to be.

towards the end of august

[universal_charm]

Kirk shared a love-hate relationship with the library. There were times he found the things within it fascinating and new, and at other times he found them woefully ignorant and biased and therefore no real help at all. The ignorant part, especially in the sciences, was hardly anyone's fault at this stage in their development, but the bias was, and it constantly grated on him. It meant the information was, at best, potentially faulty and at worst out right lies and propaganda.

He was currently looking through one of the scientific books, clucking to himself as he flipped through the pages in the stacks. "No, Kirk, you will not write corrections in a library book, that's rude," he kept telling himself beneath his breath, not thinking anyone would hear him.

[goodforsaken]

How dare you--ahem. Lex resisted the urge to actually spontaneously develop flight just to get over there faster, and possibly more waspishly. "Rather than deface our current meagre resources," he interjected, at normal volume, all 5'7" of him appearing from the opposite shelf, "you might consider writing your own."

Not that he'd necessarily disagree, about bias in the sciences, but still. Books!! It was the principle of the thing! "What is it you've found so lacking, exactly?"

iii. i had this typed up and then lost it so it doesn't get cool font (ANYWHERE U WANT)

[goodforsaken]

Acclimatization to any new environment is always a challenge for Lex; like most people he doesn't love not having control over an anything, but he is perhaps especially uh, inclined. In that direction. Skyhold is new, and although he's aware far too many variables exist for him to really pin it down and make his own shapes (...also it does not in any way belong to him, but pshh, irrelevant!!), he can at least explore what areas aren't off-limits (although ones that are only by unspoken agreement he will probably wander into anyway, whoops) and figure out how they work.

Where the niches are. Where the amicably available persona will be the most effective, where he can drop it for the sensible one where all parties have things to do, efficiency appreciated.

Amongst these general wanderings he's been tasked into risk assessment for the Rookery, so if its terrifying mistress of shadows would like to strongly reprimand him for just ...being everywhere, you know. This would be an ideal time.

the meeting that was probably never meant to be (healing tents... I guess?? :U)

[amygdalae]

There are always new people coming into Skyhold. It's a fact since the Inquisition set up its base here, and its something Bruce has become fairly used to by now. For the most part he doesn't really concern himself with whoever's coming, unless its something who is sick and/or needs help with injuries and the like. In the past maybe he would have been more forward, but these days its easier to just keep to himself. Not being able to hide the fact that he's a mage now makes everything more complicated than he really needed things to be.

At least right now it doesn't seem like he's going to have any trouble; the morning had passed by peacefully enough, and with his afternoon shift done Bruce uses his break to work on making more poultice nearby where most of the tents had been put up. A dracolisk stands nearby, idly munching on some hay that had been brought over, mostly for the purposes to keep it occupied and ensure that it doesn't go wandering off and accidentally eat a chicken or something.

>_> you saw nothing

[goodforsaken]

They don't really have dracolisk...i...es in the Free Marches, plural or otherwise, so Lex is obliged to do a mighty dance of 'that completely didn't startle me' when he encounters Bruce's hay-munching friend. Either he covers it well or he's just ...always like, notably kind of tense, one of those.

"For the discerning rider who doesn't find a horse terrifying or ostentatious enough," he remarks like. To the animal. Little knowing he is perhaps quoting the war table mission.

[fightingale]

A reprimand, you say? She would never.

She would also never offer any warning before standing behind someone poking around her Angst Tower Spire of Brooding Rookery, so her shadow is cast over Lex before so much as a footstep can be detected. No matter what he is doing, she somehow seems to loom.

"Good afternoon." Sounds like: stabby stabby death death.

[goodforsaken]

Dear Maker I've made a terrible mistake--someone else's inner monologue would go. Lex is unfortunately that kind of idiot smart that fears basically nothing, even when it would be really, really wise to fear like, the fucking Purple Hoodie of Death.

He startles, regardless; whether he did it for show or not is ...mutable. "You must be Sister Nightingale." A beat, assessing and faintly humorous. "Unless there are two women of your description stalking the halls, in which case the title does lose some lustre."

[doneisdone]

Teren notices people. Especially people who are everywhere, and especially when they are trying to be unobtrusive. She's seen this one poking around here and there, and though she has never greeted him, something about his manner has caused her to always surreptitiously follow him with her eyes.
At present, she has set up shop at her preferred table in the Herald's Rest, sewing supplies set out in front of her as she nurses an ale and works on taking in a warden's tunic. There are several others in the pile before her, indicating that she's got quite a bit to do, and perhaps she made the choice to sit where her fingers wouldn't be stiff and cold and making threading needles difficult.

She sees the boy again, below her, and wrinkles her brow at him. Once again she offers no greeting, but if he should look up, she'll meet his gaze.