OPEN

[dalishious]

WHO: Merrick and Y'ALL.
WHAT: Catch-all for the rest of September!
WHEN: throughout Kingsway
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: warning for drug use!!! if u wanna starter hmu

Tavern.

The whispering that follows Merrick around Skyhold is always the same-- 'Look, that Dalish there-- attacked a Templar, he did!' 'Stay away from that one, lad, you'll lose a year off your life every word you speak to him.' 'Frankly, I'm astonished the Inquisition would allow such a savage among their ranks...'-- but for someone with such a violent reputation, Merrick is remarkably mellow company. He spends many of his evenings at the Herald's Rest, either sitting alone with often-doled-out whiskey or engaging in the occasional card game.

With a few drinks in him he'll be amenable to conversation, provided you don't mind his brusque nature and his tendency to put away a truly legendary amount of alcohol. He does seem unusually mollified lately, and his hand often trails to the cord looped around his neck, on which a piece of a dragon tooth is fastened.

Rogue School.

It's become a bit of a calling for Merrick to pass on some of his fighting expertise to new recruits, and while he doesn't think he's being too hard on them, it's fairly obvious that he is. The recruits have started taking bets on who will have the cojones to take him on, and how long they'll last before they're pinned to the wall with daggers or blue in the face from being headlocked between his thighs.

He's open to sparring with anyone, always eager to shake off some of his manic energy, even though he might take the fake-fighting a little too seriously. Just bring protective headgear.

The Garden.

As a Dalish, Merrick has always enjoyed being around plants and trees, but there's a particular kind of plant that he favors most. He has his own private stash of elfroot--some local, and some varieties which he's procured from some rather shady sources--which he dries and cures himself and takes to the garden for some quality smoking. It's something he's been doing a lot more of lately in an effort to calm his fits of rage and mania, and he likes to spend his off time tucked in a little corner, pipe between his teeth as he works on his wood carvings (he has a lot of them now, all finely hewn and intricate, and he's open to selling them or even taking requests).

He'll also bring out his guitar and sing softly, or else pluck out chords as he works on a new song. He's open to sharing his pipe and exchanging music, and might pass you his flask of homemade moonshine too. It's okay; he won't bite unless you really piss him off.

Comments

[harthad_uluithiad]

"A dragon!" Sam's eyes go wide as saucers, and he looks down at the sharp tooth, then back up to Merrick's face. There is, of course, only one question to ask in response to a revelation like that.

"Did you kill it?"

[dalishious]

"Not this one," says Merrick. Which implies that he has, in fact, killed a dragon before.

He drinks a bit more, quite at the point now where he can tolerate being asked a bunch of questions. To an extent. Use your time wisely, Sam.

[harthad_uluithiad]

The implication is all too clear. Sam looks at Merrick with newfound respect - not that he hadn't had plenty of respect before, what with Merrick being an elf and all.

"A dragon," he repeats, with quiet awe. "But who did kill that one then, if it weren't you? Why are you wearing it? Do you mean to say you have killed a dragon?"

You asked for it, Merrick.

[dalishious]

A blush creeps up the back of Merrick's neck and darkens the tips of his ears. If he were more adept at conversation he'd change the topic, but seeing as how he isn't, he just looks a bit like a cornered animal.

"It was a gift," he mutters. "That's all I'm saying about it."

[harthad_uluithiad]

Sam looks as if he's ready to ask another question, but then he catches the look on Merrick's face and, with difficulty, bites his tongue.

"Well, it certainly is something," he mumbles, mostly into his drink. "Someone surely must think highly of you, to offer a gift such as that! And a dragon-slayer, too!" Sam's only heard of one dragon-slayer in his life, and that one far away across Middle-earth, so the idea of another one, perhaps right here in Skyhold and handing out dragon teeth as gifts, is almost too much to think of.

[dalishious]

Merrick is blushing even more now, the look in his eyes incredibly fond until he catches himself and forces his face into something more passive.

"He does," he replies, voice even lower, barely audible over the chatter of the crowd. "For some reason."

[harthad_uluithiad]

Sam almost, almost misses the blush, right along with the soft look in Merrick's eyes - but he looks up just in time, freezing with his mug still lifted halfway to his lips as the pieces click into place.

"Oh," he breathes, and then, a little too loudly, "You've got a sweetheart!"

[dalishious]

For a second Merrick considers stomping on Sam's foot again, but refrains. Instead he just grits his teeth, not nearly as irritated as he'd be if he were sober.

"...Yes," he mutters, taking another healthy swig of alcohol.