faderift | [ open ] potions + poisons

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

"Mind if I join you?" Raylan asked. He was hardly stupid enough to scare one guy off just to impose his own company on her in his place. At the very least, he wasn't going to be such an obvious asshole as the other guy. He had no problem sitting in quiet if she felt like it, and his presence might act as a shield to the next asshole with a bright idea.

"No, actually. I don't mind." Which might be surprising given Pamelia's...everything, but she merely gestures towards the seat. "I would hate to think of you lying to strangers for me."

Joke. It's a joke. See, she's even smiling.

"How are you?"

Yes, it was a joke, and Raylan smiled in return.

"I've been all right," he said, as he took the seat. "Nothin' new, I suppose. You gettin' settled?" he asked. Fromage had been before he met Pam, so technically he wasn't lying, and he was probably never going to want to talk about that anyway.

"I think so." It's hard to tell, considering she never really settled at Dairsmuid to begin with. "Thank you for helping me. Today, and before; I know I wasn't the most friendly person."

Raylan shrugged. "I met worse than you in my time, trust me." He gave her another smile, to show no hard feelings, and flagged down a serving wench to order a drink.

"I suppose that excuses everything." When the woman came to get their order she bought another cider. "What do you do when you're not teaching the wee ones, as it were?"

She's curious, but mostly to find her own niche. Though she has more ideas now than she did before.

"I got a little lab in the dungeon," he said. "Just had a bunch a' ruined timber in it when I got there but the structure was in good shape, so I burned it out, found a bed and a table and a chest a' drawers. Quartermaster keeps me in ink and candles. It's nice, I'm well away from the bustle and all." He had somewhat avoided saying what he actually did there, but he figured it was a good enough answer for idle conversation.

"You'll recognize my place by the sign. Inquisition R&D," he said, nodding like this was a very solemn charge. He'd let her see for herself one day that the sign was a finger-and-ink-on-parchment monstrosity that said INQUISITION RESEARCH, VERY IMPORTANT, GO AWAY.

It is idle conversation, but Pam is a naturally nosy sort. She wants to know what, exactly, he's up to in his spare time because she is still figuring out how she fits in the grand scheme of the inquisition.

Also. Nosy.

Still she recognizes the answer for what it is - vaguely sufficient - and determines then and there she'll just have to go into the underbelly of the fortress and see what it's all about.

"I'm sure you're very good at it." The R&D. "I may go back to Orlais for a few days."

Raylan made a sound of acknowledgment. "I ain't gone," he said. "I tend to stick out a little. S'pose you can't get the Fereldan farmer outta the man," he said, deploying a good-natured, squinty-eyed smile. "You got somethin' you're gonna do there?"

[ open ] potions + poisons

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