Player Plot: I will call you home

[arlathvhen]

WHO: Beleth, Cyril, Merrick, and Ellana Ashara, Thranduil, Sina Dahlasanor, Metaari, Sam Gareth, Kallian Endris, Alistair and Ruby i think??? whoever wants to go
WHAT: Keeping Up With The Asharas, the reality tv show
WHEN: Backdatedish, around mid-kingsway
WHERE: The Heartlands of Orlais
NOTES: OOC post

Tel'enfenim, da'len Irassal ma ghilas Ma garas mir renan Ara ma'athlan vhenas Ara ma'athlan vhenas	Never fear, little one, Wherever you shall go. Follow my voice-- I will call you home. I will call you home.

Clan Ashara currently resides in a small valley nestled into the mountains, that seems idyllic for a Dalish clan. A stream runs through the valley, descending into a waterfall with the steep cliffs on one side, and sheer mountain walls going straight up on two other sides. The only way in and out is through a gap big enough to lead several aravels through. It's a defensible position, safe from any threats. Except the fade rift that has opened up just a little ways from the gap. The hunters can handle the demons spewing from it well enough, and there are always a couple stationed there to pick off whatever appears. But it's too dangerous to lead the aravels and noncombatants through, and thus, they are forced to wait. To compound the issue, there's a village close to where they're currently staying, and while both sides have kept to themselves, neither are pleased with the current situation. They've helped get a message to the Inquisition in hopes that someone will come take care of the problem, and now both are tensely waiting for something to happen to change the situation, for better or worse. And so the members of Clan Ashara, with their friends in tow, return back to their clan.

Comments

[writteninblood]

He doesn't really know what to think about this, to tell you the truth.

Merrick's brought a qunari with him; that's not exactly a surprise. Oh, rather, it's surprising, but somehow so utterly Merrick a choice that it's hard to be puzzled about it. On one hand, there he is, curled horns, frowning brow, deadly weapon, and on the other... Merrick, why.

The exasperated declaration of but, why had been a common feature of Merrick's upbringing.

So.

So, he'll stare if he wants to, that's what. Merrick brought a qunari to the clan. Nothing will ever surprise Sorrel ever again.

[metaari]

For the most part, he's gotten used to the staring. It's been a while since he's felt so out of place, but a few curious gazes are to be expected around here. Now, the occasional frightened scream from a child hurts a little, but those aren't unusual to him, either. What doesn't usually happen, however, are stares so intense that he feels as though holes are trying to be bored into the side of his head.

Metaari manages to continue to work on his bow, lifting it after a while to stare down the length of string he just retied to make sure it's straight. Not taking his eyes off of his work he finally decides to speak up. "As far as I was aware, it is considered rude to stare in most societies." He finally looks up, the corners of his lips curling upward into a faint grin. "You can sit. I swear, I'm not a biter."

[writteninblood]

"If you're really with Merrick, like they say, then that's a surprise," he replies, mouth bolder than the rest of him by a wide and rough-shod mile. Sorrel is glad of his complexion: it doesn't show blushes easily, and the color of his vallaslin is just as good a mask, "Anyways, you're not in our society, you're just visiting it."

Which is all true, and also pretty damned rude. But then, what isn't? In for a copper coin, in for a sovereign, so to speak-- since he was already staring, and all. But he does sit, seemingly unconcerned with any proffered insult, or the potential for retaliation.

"So. What do you do?"

[metaari]

"That's a fair point, we are very much together. I amend my statement, then: I only bite if it's wanted." Metaari casts Sorrel a grin as he finally sits down, the smile crooked and taunting. If he's going to be bold, then Metaari isn't going to shy away from it, either. There's no point in it.

He gives his bow one last glance before he leans it against the nearest tree. "I'm mostly a front line fighter, when it's required of me, going with different teams to fill out the ranks of their heavy hitters and fire slingers. I work with explosives as well; right now I'm working on developing something that will be easier to assemble in the heat of a battle."

[writteninblood]

"Most people like to have their weapons put together before fighting, but I won't judge you for it," Metaari's lopsided, cheeky grin was infectious, and Sorrel returned it. So, this was Merrick's choice, then? He could just about imagine why, if he squinted, "'Course you know my job here, I'm sure. More or less."

Less, was the likely option, but Sorrel isn't about to offer, not unasked. He's a mage, and makes no effort to hide that fact-- don't mages have universal appeal? Well, Sorrel likes to think so.

"I guess I'm just surprised. We all thought we'd seen the last of Merrick, and he comes bringing you here. Must be serious."