faderift | OPEN

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Don't worry, I probably will at some point. But I promise I'll try to be the most fun and charming asshole possible. It might back me more palatable, though I imagine framing a rump with flowers doesn't detract all that much from the fact it's still an ass." He considers a moment, tilting his head and glancing at the rafters before offering a little shrug and propping his chin on his fist.

"I'll have another wine before teetering off to find a place to rest, I suppose. I'm feeling surprisingly good right now. Heavy and pleasant. If I'd known it was going to be this nice I might have tried sooner," he muses drowsily, smiling broadly and tapping the fingers of his free hand on the bar.

"I want to try everything this world has. Everything. I don't know if I'll go home someday, either by choice or circumstance, but I want to take all these experiences back. I think...I think Guardians would fight even harder, if more of them knew what we were fighting for. Like...really knew."

"Another wine, it is." Korrin glances over to the bartender and gestures for another one. "Just don't let anyone bully you into trying dwarven ale; imagine distilled dirty socks and thongs and there you go, only worse. That's not an experience anyone needs, I promise you that." She chuckles and stretches, getting comfortable enough to wonder if she's going to be able to get up again any time soon. "We have a holiday coming up several weeks from now in Firstfall, called Satinalia. There's tons of feasting, so if Skyhold does it any justice, you'll have a ton of new experiences -and foods- to try."

"Don't flirt with me," he grumbles, pointing at Korrin and squinting suspiciously. Clearly a jest, though he plays it up with an expression suggestion he was scandalized.

"Satinalia sounds an awful lot like an historical celebration back home, and if I know anything about it, I know they were crazy-awesome parties. I look forward to it! Eating has been a lot of fun and heck, I'll even try socks and thongs for a laugh."

That jest gets a snort of amusement from Korrin, who lifts the dragon tooth suspended on a chain around her neck. "See this? Means I'm taken. And by a rifter, no less. Before you ask, it's...kind of a qunari thing, but not like a widespread one. I just had to do it because, fuck, it's a dragon tooth."

Badass, right? "Oh yeah, I think I remember Antiva's celebrations go on for a week or so. The closest thing I had to a hometown, Wycome, was next to Antiva and the revelry capital of the Free Marches, so it got pretty wild. Some places are pious and boring about it, but whatever. We'll have fun, no matter what."

"Count me in then! For the party, not the engagement," he clarifies, pointing idly at the necklace even as he leans in to look at it. Dragon teeth. Real dragons just out and about. Granted back home he saw all kinds of giant monsters and terrific beasts, but they were the hideous mutations created by agents of evil; so far as he was to understand it, while they were generally bad, dragons were still part of the natural order. It was certainly a step up.

"Definitely impressive! I guess if you're gonna have a love token that says "Raaahhhgggg piss off I'm takennnnn raaaghhh!" that's probably the way to go. Next best thing next to wearing the heads of potential suitors on a belt."

He's only a little serious. Maybe. Probably not.

He opens his mouth to ask about the possibility of Rifters going home but wisely changes his mind. No point being a downer to a new friend, but he reminds himself to ask someone else later. Let it not be said that Mac never has tact. It's just rare.

That assessment of her love token has Korrin laughing, fortunately after she finishes more of her wine. She's trying to do the polite thing and not have the new guy end up wearing it, after all.

"It's not a widely-known thing in and of itself, but people here know me and they don't seem to be that interested in pissing me off, so I'll take it. What dragon teeth don't discourage, looming and giving the stink-eye usually does."

"Never really works for me, but I'm not exactly a very big or threatening person. I accept that. Just makes people more terrified when I actually do break out the fire and lightning," Mac replies happily, expression playfully smug as he nurses the remains of his drink. The fuzzy feeling starts turning into a heavy, unstable-ground feeling and he figures maybe he ought to pace himself - not that he knows what a good pace is. "Slower" seems a safe bet, regardless.

"That's nice, though, right? Someone to worry about you, someone to come back to?" the Guardian muses, frowning a bit before shrugging with a small chuckle. "Mm. Cheers," he added after a moment, lifting his drink and taking another sip. He didn't want to think too much about the lack of people interested in his welfare back home, or the people who he cared about, even if they didn't know.

"This Solas you mentioned - not to change the subject, we can always revisit - but what does he look like and where can I find him? I'll be barreling him over with questions, unfortunately, but you said ask an expert...I'll be asking everyone," the horned man remarks thoughtfully.

"Eh, just let people think you have yet to grow into your full height and they'll still not want to mess with you. Even without that, you still have the horns. People won't want to risk you using those as weapons, after all. Speaking of which, I can give you tips later, when we're both sober."

Especially him, though she's trying to be polite. Lifting her drink in turn, she takes a sip. "Someone to be badasses in battle with, too, though that happens less often than I'd like. Our skillsets often lead us to different missions. I'd suck at stealth or diplomacy and she can't summon flaming meteors. It's alright, though. You work with what you're given."

Ah, right, Solas. "He's pretty easy to spot, honestly. You know the area just below the library, with all those frescoes? That's where he hangs out. You'll know him because he's probably the only bald elf I've seen around here. I haven't spoken with him much, but from what I can tell, he loves being asked questions, so you're in luck."

"Bald elf? That sounds...wrong somehow. I guess I have a lot of stereotypes to work past. Bummer. I thought all elves were supposed to be fancy, flowy types. All moonlight and magic. I think I read too many fantasy romances," he mutters, slowly lowering his face to press his forehead against the bar, only to find the curvature of his horns prevent him from laying flat.

"I wanna be badass in battle with someoooooonnnnneeee," Mac whines, tilting his head about until he gives up and presses the tip of his nose against the wood.

"I wanna see the Prince again. I miss his stupid face. Oooooh he hated me. Ahhh. So perfect..." Because of course drunkenly reflecting on your crushes is the best thing to do.

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