OPEN

[spaceswan]

WHO: Mac Journey and you there!
WHAT: Exploration of Skyhold, self-educating and existential dilemmas.
WHEN: The duration of Kingsway.
WHERE: Everywhere in Skyhold he can get access too, really.
NOTES: No warnings as of yet. Several prompts inside but feel free to bump into him anywhere! He's bound to stick his nose where it doesn't belong at some point.

Mac made it to Skyhold safely, accompanied by the lovely Miss Ellana. He learned most of the basics along the way, accepted his new palm and head accessories and decided sometime during the journey that he wanted to be part of the Inquisition, formally or otherwise. Anywhere people were in need, Mac was supposed to be there, and as far as Ellana said, the Inquisition was the choice to make. Fine by him.

Besides, they have a castle fortress and he's not about to pass up that opportunity.

Throughout the days following, Mac spends most of his time trying to learn about the world he's landed in and the people inhabiting it, both through literature and personal experience. As with all social efforts it's a bit touch and go; it's not made any easier for him being newly minted as a Qunari - or Rifter equivalent - and he certainly stands out with gold-plated ram horns, lime-colored eyes and long, undercut hair he painstakingly dyes a rich purple color.


Library

While terribly excited about the innumerable prospects available to him upon arriving at Skyhold, Mac is infinitely more intent upon the library, mentioned to him in brief. If is meant to be in the strange new world he has to do what any self-respecting Warlock would do: educate himself.

Back home the Guardian had scoured every library available to him and even gone on countless missions for the colleges to recover lost knowledge from the Ishtar Academy. He has a voracious appetite for knowledge (though a good many that knew him would say he wasted that motivation on his obsession with fiction and fantasy) and speed-reading is a talent he happily indulges. Thedas, as it turns out, is everything he had ever dreamed of and if he's going to inhabit the land for any length of time, being poorly educated is simply unacceptable.

Though certainly availing himself of other amenities available in the hold, Mac is most often found sitting on the floor surrounded by books, flipping through page after page, pale eyes scanning written words so quickly it's a wonder he can retain anything at all. His curiosity isn't limited to the written word, however, and anyone passing within range of him gets stared at without a hint of apology. He isn't trying to be rude, of course, but he's quite in love with everything and everyone he sees at present; that includes all those from the flashiest of Orlesian courtiers to the blandest of wool-wearing scullery maids.


Tavern and Kitchens

As it turns out, getting spit out of a green sky means you don't always come out the other side quite the same. Never actually having to eat or sleep back home was more of a dull fact than a boon and the novelty of needing to do both is unlikely to wear off anytime soon for Mac. As such he's always eagerly poking his head around corners and following the smells of local vittles.

There is nothing he's unwilling to try, however vile it might first appear, and his new appetite happens to be curiously large; he accounts it to his magic likely needing to be supported more by his metabolism and personal health now than the physics of his former home.

He's also never been able to enjoy the effects of alcohol and he's easily seen spending more time at the tavern during evening repast observing the effects on others while obviously longing to join in but being too unsure to try.


Healers

Injuries are a new thing for Mac, and they aren't at all welcome. While adapting to sleeping and eating regularly has been immensely enjoyable, having to actually heal from wounds is forcing him to question his usually more reckless approach to things.

Paper cuts, scrapes and bumps have been accepted as badges of newfound potential mortality, odd but harmless. The first time he endured a solid bruising left him bewildered but largely unmoved. The day he decided to hop down the battlement steps instead of walking the distance resulted in a tweaked ankle and limping. That was far more alarming. As a result Mac has endeavored to be more careful with his actions and person, but years of blindly barreling onward are difficult to change.

Due to his inevitable learning curve, Mac shows up at the healers regularly enough, pouting and holding new bruises and cuts as he seeks aid for ailments he's never had to deal with. It's about the most sullen he gets, having to put his fun on hold to treat a cut or burn. On the upside, he's certainly garnering a lot more respect for medicinal arts.


Main Bridge

When the library gets a bit crowded - as it sometimes does with all the mages, intellectuals and other curious Rifters - Mac likes to sneak a book off to the bridge and tuck himself against the stones jutting from the parapets, feet dangling over the side. Often, however, when he goes here he spends more time looking out across the frozen valley than actually reading, lost in thought or lost in the view.

Comments

Tavern

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin is at the Herald's Rest less often lately, but she still makes an appearance when she can, claiming a seat at the bar or the table nearest Maryden's music. Tonight, it's the latter and she appreciates the chance to put up her feet on an empty stool and stretch out a little. Upon seeing the newcomer, the Vashoth woman straightens a little and waves him over. She remembers him from the rift, though they hadn't had much chance to talk then. Might as well make up for it now. The fact that he has qunari horns is very fascinating to her, given that she's never seen anyone emerge with them before.

"Hey, what can I get you for your 'welcome to Thedas' complimentary drink? We're out of fruit baskets, sorry."

[spaceswan]

"Fruit baskets? People really do those? I thought it was a joke," he murmurs as he closes the distance, obediently seating himself where offered. Pale eyes flick curiously over Korrin, taking in the horns and other details, filing them away. He really needs to understand these people better if he's stuck being one. Though, thinking "stuck" implies he doesn't like it, which isn't true at all.

"Uhhh, I don't know. What's good?" he asks, swiveling his head to look at the bottles and casks behind the bar. This was a part of human socialization he had completely glossed over back home and now he's wondering if just asking for milk will make him look like a tool.

"I'm Mac, by the way," he interrupts his own thoughts for a moment, snapping his attention back to Korrin and thrusting a gloved hand out with a toothy grin. "Are you a, uh, Qu...crap. Hang on. Q, Q, Q....QUNARI! Yeah. That's it. I've been informed I'm probably best served saying I'm a Vashoth. Hi. I'm a Vashoth."

Excellently done. Social grace on point.

[gatheringstorm]

That gets Korrin to laugh, not unkindly. "Yeah, I'm a Vashoth, too. 'Qunari' is only for those who actually follow the Qun or for humans and others that forget we're not all the same. Korrin Ataash, of the Valo-Kas mercenary company." And now the Inquisition, but he already knows that.

"...well, damn, I can't be mean to you and recommend dwarven ale. Don't, unless you like punishing yourself. The spiced wine is pretty good, as is Chasind Sack Mead or West Hill brandy. I think I'll get the former, myself. One good thing about being big and horned? Drink most things and it'll go right through you. Only the qunari brews have a chance of getting you hammered, without needing to drink truly epic amounts."

[spaceswan]

"You can be mean to me if you want to, I'm pretty used to it. Things go over my head all the time though, so I'll probably miss the joke," he remarks cheerily, shrugging both shoulders in a soft jangle of chainmail. Can't get him down, nope.

Hammered? Old colloquialism. Drunk. Shit-faced...He nods slightly, wary of doing so too enthusiastically; still not used to those horns.

"You sure about that? I've never actually drank alcohol before. Wasn't much point, back home. What if I have a thimbleful of some local brew and end up in a coma? You gonna take responsibility for that?" he asks, cocking a playfully warning brow. "What if I, like, die because my delicate butterfly of a liver can't handle it and my insides spontaneously melt?"

[gatheringstorm]

"Nah, that makes it worse. I only do it to people who give as good as they get." Korrin's in a relatively mellow mood anyway, so she can spare him the hazing. She raises an eyebrow at the notion of him never drinking alcohol before the rest gets her chuckling. "You'd be an embarrassment to all qunari and we'd have to go into exile. So, try not to spontaneously melt anywhere. And hold on, I'll get us some spiced wine then. It's not a bad way to start off."

If he hates it or wants to try something else, she might even buy him a second round. Returning after a moment with cups for them both, Korrin shoves his forward. "What do you mean, there wasn't much point? Even qunari here, the ones that are qunari still know how to unwind sometime. No alcohol at all?"

Library

[circleprodigy]

By now, Inessa's a common sight in the library, the slight, pale elf often at a table surrounded by towers of books. Just as common is the large mabari at her feet, usually napping while she indulges herself. At the moment, however, she's trying to return some of those books to the stacks, probably to make room for more. Upon getting that sensation that she's being watched, Inessa turns and likewise stares for a moment. The horns, hair and eyes all tend to stand out, after all.

"...ah, hello. Can I help you?"

[spaceswan]

"I don't know. Maybe?" he answers without thinking, watching with a glazed look and smiling in that weird way people do when they feel a bit dreamy and don't remember to control what their faces are doing. He sets his book down, propping his elbows on his knees so he can hold his head in his hands and keep smiling.

"Man, I'm never gonna get used to seeing elves all over the place. It's the neatest thing ever," Mac sighs in his all-too-common fluttery way. He stares a tick longer before blinking rapidly, realizing he is - as usual - thinking out loud, and quickly rises to his feet with both arms thrust out.

"I can help you, though! Books. Away. Putting away books, I mean. You know. I'm uh, really good at reaching...things. Up high. Sort of. I'm Mac. Journey. Mac Journey. I'm sorry, I'm being weird. Can't help it, really excited," the horned man rambles, lofting both brows and smiling crookedly.

[circleprodigy]

Inessa's initial confusion only lingers, since she's never had someone look at her like that before, for any reason. The mabari, on the other hand heads over to sniff at him and look up hopefully, wagging his tail. They can be friends, right?

Mac's rambling is weird, but after a bit it gets her to chuckle. "You're that eager to be part of the Inquisition? Well, they can definitely use that enthusiasm, I suppose. And thank you, it's not often I have qunari assistance for the higher shelves. I appreciate it." She doesn't quite reach five feet, so there's much she can't get on her own without betraying her pride or dignity.

[spaceswan]

"Oooooh a puppy! Look at you, aren't you the best! Yes you are!" Mac chirps cheerily, instantly diverting his attention to reach down, smooshing the Mabari's face gently and scratching both sides of it's blocky head.

"What? Sorry?" the Guardian asks, looking up again and cocking his head to the side - a gesture further exaggerated by the still unfamiliar weight of horns. He rises, smiling cheerily once more and taking any books she's willing to hand over, despite the natural urge to keep handling the furry beast.

"Oh yeah, that. Sorry I'm not exactly as tall as the uh...purer...strains. Of them. Those...people. My people. Wait hang on," he pauses, confusing himself as much as he was likely befuddling Inessa.

"I'm not like some of them - yeah - I'm from pretty far away. Shorter types, y'know," he clarifies a bit, gesturing to himself at 5'9" and hardly impressive. Taller than her, sure, which makes him feel pretty badass for all of three seconds. Still, he can stand on tip-toe and til books onto their shelves, which is good enough! That, and Mac doesn't seem to have any trouble with pride or dignity, perfectly willing to dangle from shelves and hop when merited.

"I'm excited to be here," the man admits after a moment, arching a brow and looking sidelong at the elven woman, chuckling for no reason in particular. "There's so many neat things! So much to learn and see. And if I'm doing good the whole time I'm having fun, then that's pretty much the ideal situation, really. So what if I'm probably a billion miles away from home? There are elves and dragons. That is way more important. If no one is trying to burn me at the stake for being unusual, I can't really fuss."

[circleprodigy]

Well. This is hands-down the most appreciative response Garahel has ever gotten from a non-Fereldan and he pants happily, remembering not to bark since they're in the library and Inessa tries to remain quiet. That doesn't prevent him from nuzzling in response to the petting and pawing at him when he stops. "Garahel, behave."

Glancing back up from chiding her mabari, Inessa's eyebrows lift as his rambling raises more questions in her mind. "You must have come from quite far away, if elves and dragons are a novelty." Then her eyes drop to his hand, searching for the green sliver by now common among the Inquisition's people. "Do you mean to say that you are a rifter? You came from beyond the rifts and yet you are qunari?" If he means what she thinks he means, then it's a fascinating new development. She has never encountered their kind among rifters, by now thinking that it wasn't possible for whatever reason.

{ healers }

[aceso]

The new arrival from the rift is becoming a common sight at the healers' tents, and when Christine sees him heading their way once more, she sighs and shakes her head, moving to meet him. He is far from the first person the Orlesian mage has seen think they're invincible, and he won't be the last either. Maker willing, she can impress upon him some manner of caution in the things he does that keeps him returning.

"Back again?" she asks airily. "Here I had hope you could last the week without an injury. Where is it this time?"

[spaceswan]

"This time wasn't my fault! Well...not exactly. I was trying to walk the battlements and I mean, you know, I thought they'd all be in one piece, right? So I was reading while I was walking and there were some loose stones and I slipped and I fell. Okay? Geez," he huffs, puffing his cheeks childishly and wrinkling his nose as he tugs gingerly at his tunic and armor to show a long series of bloodied scrapes that were rapidly bruising along their path. The lines mark a diagonal route across his back, down the side of his ribs and end abruptly at the top of his breeches. There was an end-over-end tumble involved there. No bones broken but definitely a lot of very uncomfortable abrasions.

"And I might have hit some scaffolding on the way down...and a rock. And a person. But they're fine, somehow. Look, okay, my powers don't work the same here as they do back home and I'm having some...difficulty...figuring it out. You're not going to put more of that smelly stinging stuff on me are you? Can't I just go lay in the snow until it stops throbbing?"

[aceso]

"Hmmph," she replies, which is her standard response to anyone explaining their injuries, really. But she gets especially exasperated at injuries she feels could have been prevented with simply a little caution.

"I can heal you magically, if you would like." Getting a good look at the wounds, and trying to contain her shock at him falling down scaffolding,, she gestures for him to sit on a nearby stool.

"If you have powers of your own, then you are used to magic, yes?"

[spaceswan]

"Well...yea~h," he replies with the drawn out tone of one rapidly gaining suspicion under the weight of the question asked. Squinting at Christine slowly and keeping his clothing lifted over bone and tight muscle to expose the wounds, Mac looks very unsure about the offer. Mostly because--

"We don't actually have healing magic back home, among my kind. Not as a specialization, anyways. So, maybe you can understand my trepidation," the Guardian clicks off each syllable of the last word, arching a brow slowly before clicking his tongue.

"Just kinda...makes me a little worried. Because how do you know you're putting a person back together the right way? You don't know me like that. You're not my Ghost. You don't, like, have my personal blueprint down to the last tiny follicle, so how are you one hundred percent confident you won't give me a tail or something? Not you, personally, I mean anyone doing that kinda stuff." It's a real concern, okay? He'll never get a date if he suddenly has a case of transmogrified goat butt; he's already worried about the horns, ma'am.

[aceso]

It's not like Christine has been denied using her magic to heal before, but his reasoning sounds so... close-minded.

"I would not give you a tail," she says, as if the very idea is ridiculous. Really, this man comes up with the silliest notions. He kind of reminds her of Church that way, but she's used to Church by now. And he makes her laugh. Always a bonus, that.

"If you would prefer the healing to be non-magical, then you are getting the salve. That is all there is to it."

Healers

[eolasemah]

Though Sina is a mage with some knowledge of healing magic, most of her talents in the healing tents consist of applying poultices and salves to calm minor hurts. She is likely a frequent encounter for Mac, and she smiles a bit amusedly this time as he makes his way in.

"Another incident?" she asks, her voice kind even if she finds his predicament humorous. She's grown used to rifters, and is thankful for their presence. Having a shard of her own, buried and glowing in the center of her chest, it's nice to have something in common with so many.

[spaceswan]

"You people ask that every time I show up. I should start bringing snacks randomly just so I can act all affronted when I get here in one piece," he grumbles, holding a strip of cloth tightly around a hand and standing in the tent, blood dripping lazily from under the hasty wrappings.

"I take full responsibility this time, though. I was sitting on a log talking to some of the hunters, leaned back and propped my weight on a bear trap. And before you ask, no, it wasn't live. It was in pieces for repairs and I just sat my hand on it and didn't move away quick enough because I'm used to not having to," Mac grouses, holding his hands out to Sina with a hopeful look.

"But you can fix it, right? You guys fix everything."

[eolasemah]

What a baby. Sina beckons him over, still smiling warmly, and takes his hands with a wince. "I can," she says, inspecting the wounds before reaching into her supply basket for a painkilling salve. "These will mostly heal on their own," she advises him, dipping a generous portion onto her hand and then transferring it to his skin, "you really must be more careful. Or start wearing armor." She grins, indicating that she's not entirely serious about the latter.

[spaceswan]

"But I do wear armor," Mac whines, screwing his face up and looking away as she tends the wound. It isn't because he can't stand the sight of injuries (he's seen far worse in the course of his years in battle) so much as if he doesn't look at it, it stings less. mind over matter or something.

"I'm trying to be more careful. I really am. After the day I fell off the battlement and hit the scaffolding, I'm pretty much not interested in getting seriously wounded anymore, thank you very much. I don't know how I'm going to adapt to not being a melee Warlock, but apparently in this world I need to stay ranged or risk death and deathlike symptoms. Evidently, I'm squishy."

[eolasemah]

She gently cleans the cuts and begins to wrap them with clean linen, still smiling as Mac continues to grouse. "We're all squishy, unfortunately," she concedes, "...at least on this side of the veil." She carefully ties off one of the wrappings, then presses his hand between both of hers, a faint glow emanating from both her palms that will relieve the pain almost immediately.
"You're lucky," she says, withdrawing her hands and lifting her eyes to his, "not all wounds can heal." She wasn't of that mind before having an anchor shard embedded in her chest, but things have changed and so has she. "...just be careful," she concludes, straightening. "Is there anything else you need?"

Healers

[el_tybs]

Considering the large horned man is at the tents on a regular basis it isn't so strange that Sam has seen him around and has gotten a name by now - even if they haven't met just yet. So when Mac comes into his tent Sam isn't all that surprised, though he is taken a little off-guard, having just turned around to find the Vashoth walking in.

"Hurt yourself again, or is this how you get to know all the healers?" He smiles lightly, brows raised as he tries to figure from sight what the issue might be this time.

[spaceswan]

"Little of column A, little of column B," Mac replies cheerily, glancing up before pausing a moment. He's not sure why but for some reason he had simply assumed all the healers were women, so seeing the unfamiliar gentleman gave him reason to be confused. Glancing around and shrugging it off the way he does most things, Mac continues forward, limping a bit as he goes.

"I mean I'm completely impossible, extraordinarily obnoxious, loud and very good at putting my foot in my mouth - which, by the way, is not why I'm limping. I fell out of a saddle and got caught in the stirrup. Before you say anything, I really thought riding a horse would be like riding a Sparrow but evidently, I was very wrong. Sparrows don't have snooty attitudes," he mutters, bending over to pat his booted ankle gingerly.

"Anyways, I'm terrible company, so if I'm not getting hurt and coming here, how else am I to acquaint myself with all you charmers?" the Guardian drawls, smiling crookedly and offering a helpless shrug, head cocking to one side and inevitably tangling his horns in the tent ties which he hurries to undo.

"Hang on, hang on, I've got this. Hang on," he mumbles, tilting his head the other way and tugging the strings in vain. Eventually he gives up, standing there and clearing his throat with a blank expression as he tries very hard not to look as embarrassed as he obviously feels.

"You know, this is fine. I can just stand here like this," he hums, raising his injured foot up and spreading his arms for balance, "and you can look at my foot and contemplate the mysteries of the universe in my artistic pose. That should do."

[el_tybs]

"No, I suspect if you had your foot in your mouth then you'd be seeing us about not being able to walk... or talk for that matter." Sam grins wider at that, though the expression changes quickly at the mention of a sparrow. Both brows raise and Sam does a once over - yes the man is a Vashoth, he is very certain on that. "Yes... I'd say trying to ride a small bird would be terribly different then riding a horse."

Things are even more curious when Mac calls him a charmer, which has the mage tilting his head just slightly - he's been called many things, but a charmer he has not. A short moment though considering horns are now getting tangled and yanking on the top of the tent. For a moment Sam just stays still not wanting to cause more distress by jumping in, but once it looks like Mac has given up he gets up to help.

"I think you'd feel more comfortable sitting, Unless you are tempting on injuring the other one." he replies back, grabbing a knife on the table to help cut away at the cloth. They could mend it later. "This happen a lot?"

[spaceswan]

"Would you believe all the time?" Mac asks, biting his bottom lip in concern as the tent fabric gets cut away. He's particularly short for a Kossith but still a hazard with the horns.

"Sorry," he adds with a sigh, weaving his way around the tent (ducking the entire time) until he can find a good place to sit, crossing his legs to prop the injured one.

"I'm not used to having them. Not all the time, anyways. Used to be a helmet, now it's my head. And I don't ride little birds. They're just called Sparrows. They're vehicles. Like, uhh, self-propelled metal horses?" he ventures with a weakening tone, unsure how to describe things and not sound crazy, most times.

"Would it help to say I'm not from around here?" the horned man adds, gesturing skyward. "I fell out of a hole in the sky...Poof. Ta-daaaa?"

[el_tybs]

There's going to be a hole in the tent for a while, but they'll get it patched up soon enough. Right now the fact that Mac was free for him to look at the injury was his concern. Taking a seat himself, Sam motions for Mac to remove the boot so that he can have a better look at what they're dealing with.

For the most part his attention is on examining before he heals, though he stops main times through it to look up and raise a brow at Mac. "You're a Rifter then?" At this point Sam actually looks to find the tattle-tale sign that marked him as one. "... This isn't how you look where you're from?" A helmet with horns... well he supposed that explained the strange coloring Mac had.

"So... like a motorcycle?" You're lucky he's talked so much with Kirk to even get what you're saying about this Sparrow.