Now I'm gonna reap what I sow

[dreadinquisitor]

WHO: Maxwell Trevean and Gavin Ashara; Gavin Ashara and Pel Ashara
WHAT: Maxwell and Gavin crush awkwardly, Gavin's ex-fiance wanders in. Dun dun duuuun.
WHEN: Forward dated slightly to just before the Mire signups.
WHERE: Battlements
NOTES: All the sadz. Maybe some language? Will updated if needed.

Walking the battlements, Maxwell was on patrol. Watching the dark night sky and the cold, moonlit horizon for rippling wings or marching shadows. In reality the only he'd seen were shining stars and the occasional animal - foxes and rabbits, kiting across the ground.

Humming to himself, a old Marcher battle hymn, he leaned against the stone and chased a familiar constellation with his eyes.

Comments

Also even later

[mythalenaste]

There's no real privacy in this fortress, only a degree to which people are willing to ignore you.

Pel sits bonelessly outside her room with Krem, on the upper floor of the tavern. Not many people are here right now, it being so early in the day, and the ones present are willing to ignore her. Her legs are threaded through the railing and her hands grasp one bar as she rests her head on an incline against it. Her last tears are trailing down her cheeks. Her eyes and nose and mouth are red while the rest of her face is white. And she has a pounding headache.

[ancarrow]

Eirlys has begun to avoid the tavern completely in the evenings, but this early in the day it's quiet enough that she's able to cut through without having to worry about the alcohol-fuelled stupidity that she'd encountered the last time she'd ventured in while it was busy. It's a rare moment of downtime for her, and she'd intended to get a glass of wine and listen to Maryden's music, but when she catches sight of Pel all of that fades into the background. She'd never been able to ignore anyone crying in good conscience, and especially not one of her own people.

She approaches softly, not wanting to startle her, crouching down next to her and placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Are you hurt?"

[mythalenaste]

Pel stares blankly ahead as the tears dry on her face. After a second, she shakes her head slowly.

"No," she says hoarsely.

[ancarrow]

A wound of the heart or mind then, ones that were not so easily curable. Eirlys had far less experience in comforting emotional crises, but she can't just leave the poor woman. She moves her skirts out of the way and sits cross legged on the floor next to Pel, tentatively drawing an arm around her. "Would you tell me what's happened? Maybe I can help."

[mythalenaste]

The contact has Pel sort of crumpling into herself. She leans against Eirlys, head bowed, trying not to start crying again. And failing. Her throat hurts so badly.

"Stupid things," she croaks. "Stupid boys." She curls against Eirlys and shakes with quiet sobs.

[dalishious]

One can usually count on Merrick visiting the tavern fairly regularly, whenever time allows-- so here he is, stopping in for a mug of ale after a particularly exhilarating lesson with Zevran. He doesn't expect Pel to be around this time of day; she's always working, never allowing her hands to be idle. It's one of the many things he loves about her.

So he's surprised, then, to hear her trembling voice somewhere above him. He's trained to pick up on any noise, no matter how small or wavering, and it's unmistakably Pel. He drains his mug quickly and slides coin across the bar before heading upstairs, hand instinctively clenched around the knife at his hip.

What he finds isn't someone harming his sister, but holding and comforting her. He loosens his hold on his knife, frowning as he approaches the two women.

"What's going on?"

[ancarrow]

When Eirlys sees Merrick approach she tightens her grip around Pel a little, unsure of just who's hurt her and wary of everyone right now. When she sees the markings on his face she relaxes a little, figuring they must be from the same clan. At least that's her assumption, lumping all Dalish together in her very limited knowledge of them.

"I just found her like this."

[mythalenaste]

"Merrick." It sounds like a plea. Having Merrick close makes things more stable, somehow. Solid. She peels away from Eirlys and reaches for him.

[dalishious]

Immediately he's on his knees, moving forward to gather her in his arms. He holds her fast, fingers tangling in her hair, gripping it tightly. He looks over at Eirlys.

"Who are you?"

[ancarrow]

Eirlys shrinks back, unsure if Merrick is accusing her of upsetting Pel, but also feeling generally as though she's intruding on the two of them. "Eirlys. From Gwaren. I work in the healing tents."

[mythalenaste]

Pel buries her face against Merrick's tunic and breathes his familiar scent, just finding assurance in his presence. She's used to being strong for him, so he reminds her that she is strong.

"Gavin," she says by way of explanation, releasing the name with a long sigh. "Again."