ain't no comeback gonna come your way

[apostasia]

WHO: MARTEL LEBLANC + ... probably his CR.
WHAT: Martel had a horrifically bad time with the Venatori, and he's looking forward to feeling much better.
WHEN: Kingsway, after the shardbearer plot.
WHERE: Skyhold; Martel's private room.
NOTES: While this is mostly for Martel's existing CR, if a character has been interested to meet him and is ballsy enough to roll up on a man who can't chase them out of his room, please feel free.

For once, in the quiet of the room he's been glad not to have been obliged to share, Martel almost looks his age. For one thing, the likelihood of being up to having his hair fixed in the near future is - decidedly unlikely, and it had seemed to him the more expedient thing to do to simply clean out the colour that still lingered and deal with it when he's capable of standing unsupported. The hair that clings to him when the warmth of the room makes him sweat is ice white, and - well. Merrill had always wanted to see him so. Perhaps she'll get her wish.

Weariness is set into every line of his body; the worst is done, he's cleared any danger of dying (again), but it will take time to recover in truth and healing takes a remarkable amount of energy for something that one does lying down in a bed while other people bring you things and tell you what a nuisance you are. As if he were mysteriously not aware of that, after more than forty years of making an absolute spectacle of himself.

The medallion he wore has yet to be repaired; it sits on the side-table near him, along with a pile of books he's occasionally reading and a credible picture of himself walking around with a cane drawn by one of Adelaide's young mages. Ha, ha, ha, he had said, dutifully, without changing his expression. Truly, this is penance.

Comments

[foxsays]

"You have your mind," Araceli points out. "And a talent for words though Thedas lacks a talent for listening. But as you still have your face? You might manage even that. But it would be dreadfully boring out and about."

She's teasing. Trying to. Trying to feel less useless when everything that she does here still requires her to be quick, light, never still. A word can be a weapon worse than any blade but that was perhaps the first time she'd wanted to kill quite so badly in such a long time; a duel to blood is one thing, and fighting off a guard that wants you dead is another, but fighting the Venatori? She'd wanted them dead. Same as she'd wanted the assassins coming after Leandra dead.

Her own temper has been rather more waspish than anyone is used to when they keep hovering.

"Everyone should own a rapier, they're beautiful, elegant weapons. If you ever wish to use a rapier, you need wits in your head too." After all, she has two so that means she has twice the wits of most if she follows her own logic. No one ever said she was modest but that's the folly of youth, isn't it? "Eventually my left hand will fit in mine again."