[ open ] potions + poisons

[anacardiaceae]

WHO: Pamelia + you
WHAT: Making potions, making poisons, meeting people
WHEN: mid-Kingsway
WHERE: library ~ tavern ~ gardens ~ around
NOTES: Pamelia left notes around Skyhold, advertising her work. Time to meet the customers.

[ library ]

Truth be told, she often sleeps here late into the night, pouring over books and making notes. Tucked into one of the overstuffed chairs in a dark corner, she wraps herself up in a blanket-sized scarf over her fairly simple dress (similar to the lady on the left), hiding her hair from sight until the sound of feet ascending and descending the stairs rouses her. It's usually predawn that has her making the path from the library to attend to her own needs, but by the time the sun is up properly Pamelia has returned to the stacks of books, her notes, and a small table.

She doesn't look up when steps pass, but if they hesitate, her dark eyes are interested.

[ tavern ]

Pamelia nurses one ale all afternoon, red and shining, alternating it with bits of cheese and staring off into the middle distance. This is where she feels the least comfortable, though not entirely uncomfortable. There's just boisterous talk, and music, and drunk men who occasionally take the empty seat across from her as invitation to sit and talk.

Hopefully that's not happening right this instance, but if it is, Pamelia's got her eyes on her drink and her hand on her forehead, trying honestly to ignore the person across from her.

Perhaps choosing the tavern as a place people could find her wasn't the best idea.

[ gardens ]

There are several, but Pamelia travels from one to another throughout the days; tending to a plant here, sketching another in black ink there. In this environment she is the most relaxed, but also the most likely to forget that others may be looking for her; an unannounced visitor may cause her to start.

She'll recover quickly, however, and offer a smile.

[ choose your own adventure ]

Want to find Pam elsewhere, away from prying eyes? Go for it!

Comments

Garden

[demonicbeauty]

When Ariadne wasn't stealing scraps of food or fetching and carrying at the healers' tents, she settled in the gardens. Really, she never felt quite herself if there wasn't dirt underneath her fingernails. And the nice thing about plants was that while the names changed, they were more or less the same as back home.

A touchstone of normalcy.

She was aerating the soil under a rose bush when she happened to look up and spot an unfamiliar face. Ariadne always enjoyed meeting new people, but the woman's flaming, red hair stole her breath.

It was the red of Harkin hair. The royal line back home. And it sent an unexpected surge of homesickness through her. If only for a moment or two. Then she recovered and smiled politely. "Hello."

[anacardiaceae]

Pamelia had seen Ariadne around the healer's tents, once or twice; she tends to notice the helpers, because the helpers are people who get things done and know the stories.

Though she hadn't had much of a chance to introduce herself, as the healers were busy as always. Still, the slight familiarity means that Pamelia smiles once she realizes. Normally she might hesitate, wonder why she was being observed so closely, but surrounded by plants and earth she feel safe, grounded, and didn't worry about it.

"Hello." Hands on her knees, Pamelia inclines her head. "I've seen you before. I'm Pamelia."

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne rose to her feet, offering Pamelia a curtsy. It wasn't so much a curtsy a bounce. Everything Ariadne did had a sense of bounce to it, a sense of airiness. As if gravity was just barely keeping a hold on her.

Try though she might, she could never quite forget what it felt like to take flight.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Pamelia," she said politely, in her gentle, girlish voice. "My name is Ariadne. Ariadne Everdeen." It gave her such a shiver of delight to share her adopted surname. She missed Katniss so much, ever since she'd left Skyhold. But that was the nature of the Inquisition, it seemed.

library

[serannas]

While the note is of mild interest to Ellana, it's the description on the back that really piques her interest. She's only been to Rivain once, but she fell in love with the place. People were kind to her there, and treated her the same as everyone else. Even though she was there to help free mages from crazed Templars, there was still time to enjoy what Rivain had to offer. There's a small glow of hope within her that perhaps this woman is from the small clan of Rivaini Dalish that Ellana met with, but when she finds the redheaded elf in the library that she thinks is likely the one who wrote the note, she sees she has no vallaslin.

"Hello," she says, hoping she isn't interrupting. "Would you be the one who wrote those notes about making potions?"

[anacardiaceae]

"I am!" Pamelia looks up, smiling at the newcomer. Like most Rivaini, she is familiar with the Dalish without prejudice or presumptions. There were childhood friends from a traveling clan, in her 8th summer, and while she has no idea what happened to their clan or why they didn't return the following summers there is still a comfort, a warmth in memory at seeing similar tattoos on another's face.

Like pressings or etchings of plants long since bloomed and withered away. A tie to a past much stronger than anything in the handful of stories Pamelia's mother told her.

"Pamelia Islain, recently of Dairsmuid. Were you interested in having a potion made?"

[serannas]

Ellana's eyes light up and she places a hand on the back of the chair across from Pamelia, ready to sit down. But she hesitates and shakes her head no.

"It's just that I was in Dairsmuid in Solace and I loved Rivain so much! I wondered if you wanted to talk about home at all?" Ellana isn't naive enough to believe the country is a total paradise, but it's been her favorite place she's visited so far.

Tavern

[faithshield]

[North notices the way she's staring at her drink with her hand on her forehead like she wants to be anywhere other than the victim of the overzealous attentions of the man across from her ("Where you from, Sweetheart? Don't see many of your people as pretty as you are..."). He decides to help her, ordering a second drink and "carefully" making his way across the tavern, one in each hand, toward an invisible drinking partner.

He knocks his hip into her table and "stumbles," dropping one of the goblets with a loud, metallic clang, spilling red wine all over the man harassing the girl.]

Clumsy me, I can't believe I did that. You'd better go clean up before that stains.

[anacardiaceae]

Oh no. Your clothes. Quick, cold water. Perhaps a dunk will do.

[ Pamelia delivers all this with completely deadpan expression and tone, which the now wine-soaked man pretty much ignores in favor of blustering a lot; thankfully, a friend or two manages to wrangle him in the direction of 'somewhere else' before he can get up in North's face about the spill.

Which means Pamelia can smile at North, more than a little relieved. ]

Please, sit, before some other fool comes around and I owe you a cask.

[faithshield]

[Fortunately indeed for her hapless suitor, his friends' attention was grabbed by the sound of the goblet hitting the table, and encouraged by the subtle sharpness of North's gaze. Even for the staff across his back and the fine robes, North was a Big Guy, and when he looked at all threatening anybody in their sober, right mind got out of the way.

He straightens and chuckles when the man is pulled away by his friends, then looks at her pleasantly surprised by the invitation.]

Men, right?

[He takes a sip of his wine, and pulls a handkerchief out of a pocket inside his sleeve, making a play at mopping up the spill. The real reason the table comes back dry, however, is more in the faint glow of his fingers before he tucks the square back in his pocket.]

Library

[eternalsquire]

This isn't where he tends to be found. He doesn't have time to sit down and read, especially when he's a slow reader to start with. But he's looking for a woman based on a note, and by process of elimination, she's the only one left.

"Pamelia?" He's small for even an Elf, dressed richly with a definite, permanent-looking slump to his shoulders. "I was looking for potions."

[anacardiaceae]

Pamelia looks up, climbing to her feet and nodding. She takes in the clothes, and the posture, and determines that he is someone's assistant or squire or underling.

Reminds herself not to be angry about it. Besides, he sounds Ferelden. "I am. Do you know what kind of potion you might need?"

[eternalsquire]

"Something for indigestion in humans. Large, overeating humans. Who have no idea why they're feeling ill after stuffing their faces."

He's counting on her understanding his predicament and his exasperation. She's an elf.

"I wouldn't mind a sleeping potion if you have one too. Something that could knock a large man out for hours."

Library

[circleprodigy]

Inessa is often in the library when visiting Skyhold from the Grey Warden camp in the valley, so it's not a stretch to find the woman in the ad. She does so with a mabari at her side, large and healthy and behaving himself in the place of quiet and research. Before she gives in to the usual temptation of creating her own stacks of books on a desk and reading until Garahel wakes up from naptime, she'll look around for her fellow elf. Her tread is relatively quiet, but her armor still makes noise nonetheless. She's not going for stealth, though.

Upon spotting an unfamiliar elven woman with a matching description, the slight elven Warden mage (and that's obvious since she's never without her staff) comes to a stop a couple of paces away. She's rather respectful of personal space. "Pardon me, but would you be Pamelia?" The mabari pauses a pace behind Inessa, tail wagging a little at their company but holding back from sniffing and pawing as he'd like unless Inessa gives him the okay.

[anacardiaceae]

Pamelia has had very limited (read: none at all) interactions with the Grey Wardens; she respects what they do, and the little historical tidbits she's heard here and there, but she's never had a chance to meet one in person. Thus, when one comes to seek her out in the library, she's a little hasty in standing, but that may also be due to the fact that she was nearly nodding off.

"I am, yes. Pamelia Islain. How may I help you?"

[circleprodigy]

As her mabari sits back on his hind legs, Inessa manages a polite smile. "Inessa Serra." Simple, no titles. Giving hers would be redundant, given the armor. "I have interest in a potion to induce dreamless sleep, if there is such a thing."

As to why, the dark circles under her eyes probably make that obvious enough. Her pallor is such that she can't possibly hide them, even at the best of times. And this certainly doesn't count as among them.

tavern

[apostafuckyou]

Raylan spotted her, the girl he'd helped in the library, and everything about her was broadcasting 'get the hell away from me.' The guy across from her obviously didn't notice or didn't care.

Well, that was annoying and Raylan wasn't even the subject of it. So he ambled over with his own drink, planting a hand on the table next to the guy.

"Scuse me," he said. "You're in my seat."

He wasn't in armor and didn't have any obvious weapons on him, and he was skinny as a scarecrow to boot. Rightfully, there ought to be no reason this worked. But Raylan had learned that he just had something about his face that could back people down, and sure enough, the guy got up and wandered off with only minimal talking.

[anacardiaceae]

"Impressive," Pamelia intoned before taking a sip of her drink. She'd been...brusque to Raylan, when they'd first met, but she was treating one of his students for a recurring breathing issue and.

Well. The little boy loved Raylan, and if there was one thing Pamelia had a soft spot for, it was the ability for children to see to the heart of a person.

"Thank you."

tavern

[sistertohermen]

Rachette isn't here to meet anyone, especially not Pamelia. Because she can't read, so any notes that get posted up she ignores, unless she's mostly just approving of the pretty shapes they make. No, Chette is here to eat, drink, attempt to be merry.

She is also no stranger to getting rowdy and handling rowdy people. Is that dude leering at some elf lady who is apparently too polite to tell him to fuck off to his face? In comes a dwarf to literally shove him out of the way--all right, it's more like nudge him bodily as if trying to move past him. When he gives a half-drunk oi of protest, the tiny dwarf lady pins him with a look. "You wanna go, big man? Move along, your ale's getting warm."

So then when he takes to leering at her (chest), she rolls her eyes. "Piss off, nug humper."

[anacardiaceae]

He doesn't take very well to be calling a nug humper, apparently; Pamelia can spot the moment the man proceeds to lose all sense and actually tries to shove the dwarven woman aside.

Not looking forward to what is certain to be his demise (she's never failed at spotting a woman who can hold her own), Pamelia does the sensible thing for someone not adept at hand to hand - climbs a chair and starts digging in her bag.

Somewhere she has a solution to this problem.

garden

[arlathvhen]

Beleth is most comfortable approaching people in the garden. Having been one of the people who put so much effort into restoring it when Skyhold was first settled by the Inquisition, she has a special fondness for it. Slowly, she approaches Pamelia, though she hesitates when she sees that the other elf is busy.

She clears her throat quietly, and will continue to awkwardly clear her throat, louder each time, until she is acknowledged.

(navi voice hey! hey! hey! hey!)

"Excuse me...? Are you the one who left the message about potions?"

[anacardiaceae]

It takes three of those sounds before Pamelia realizes they are directed at her, and looks up from where she's tending plants in the ground.

"Oh! Yes. Hello." She makes it to her feet, dusting her hands off on one another until they glow softly and come back clean. "What can I help you with today?"

tavern

[fightorfright]

It's after her rounds in the healing tents but before she usually goes to help out in the armory that Amélie finds herself making a short stop at the tavern. In all honesty, she's trying to get more comfortable with the place, not feel so anxious when she comes here with no set plan.

She purchases a pint of the barkeep's cheapest beer, and tries to find somewhere to sit. Despite the relatively early hour, the tavern feels as though it's fit to bursting.

It's that sense of being completely overwhelmed that gives Amélie the courage to approach the woman sitting alone. She clears her throat and speaks in a thick Tantervale accent. "Er, excuse me, is this seat taken?"

[anacardiaceae]

"No, no, feel free." Pamelia breaks from her reverie daydreaming where she'd been staring off into the middle distance when Amélie speaks up.

"I think I've seen you before. You help at the healing tents, yes? I'm Pamelia."

Gardens

[justice_is_blond]

He's making a fairly regular trip to the gardens, making notes of what herbs are in what shape and what they need to suggest is made a priority, when he catches sight of the bright red hair. It only takes a moment of thought to conned that with the notes.

"Excuse me. Pamelia?"

[anacardiaceae]

By now, Pamelia is a little used to being noticed in the gardens, so she doesn't start as badly as she might have a few days ago. Instead she glances over her shoulder and gives the mage addressing her a smile. "Hello, yes. I'm Pamelia."

Standing, she dusts her hands off of one another before giving a small incline of her head. "How can I help you?"