C'est la vie

[aceso]

WHO: Christine + OPEN
WHAT: A catch up post.
WHEN: Kingsway 8th to the start of Harvestmere
WHERE: Skyhold + off somewhere with Korrin
NOTES: Mention of the death of a loved one possible?

Part of her wishes she could have stayed with her mother, but now that Maman was living with Uncle Pierre, Christine knew she was safe (and that her uncle wouldn't want a mage in his house). Besides, she has her duties to the Inquisition as a healer and a researcher of red lyrium. When she returns, she plans to throw herself back into her work, but the new addition to her life has other plans.

{ adventures in dog-sitting }
The dog is her mother's. She repeats this to anyone who asks after the lively little fellow, lest they think she actually chose to adopt him of her own volition. Oh, no. This duty was put on her by a woman blubbering into her handkerchief, asking what was to become of her precious Poncelet because her brother wouldn't allow her to bring him. Uncle Pierre is a real ass. But Christine takes this very seriously despite her dislike of ill-behaved canines. She watches little Ponce like a hawk, and it takes awhile for her to warm to the idea of anyone else looking after him. But she does give in because she needs to work without a yapping dog at her heels. One day finds her marching after the prancing dog holding a broken leash in one hand.

"Ponce, sit. Sit." But every time she approaches to try and catch him, the dog scrambles further back, thinking it's a game. The poor thing has spent its life with a sickly woman who never played more than tug-of-war with him. It's time to have some fun.


{ at the healing tents }
It's business as usual for this healer. Christine spents her day attending to patients, both bedridden and walk ins. When not doing that, she can be found in a tent with an opened flap, mixing up potions or poultices. It's quiet, repetitive work that leaves far too much time for thinking. Thinking about her father and the opportunity she missed to ever know him. She has gotten most of her tears out, but at times she stares off into space, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. Sometimes Ponce can be seen sleeping on a pillow in the corner, his leash looped under a chair leg so he doesn't run away. Whenever someone enters, however, he wakes up and starts barking at the stranger.


{ creating a spirit blade }
Once she returns from visiting her mother, Christine throws herself into as much as possible, and one of those things is becoming a Knight-Enchanter. She's watched Korrin wield her blade and has seen how long her barrier can sustain itself. It's something she wants to pursue, so she makes contact with Commander Helaine and is impressed with her forward manner. She's instructed on the book to read and given two kinds of items she must collect to form her spirit blade. The reading comes first, naturally. And once she's understood everything written, she and Korrin head out to gather the supplies. First is the Exalted Plains for lazurite. No one can blame her for putting off a return to the Fallow Mire for wisp essence.


{ learning to ride a horse }
Another skill Christine wants to have is learning to ride on her own. She knows it's terribly inconvenient to always be asking others on missions to let her ride with them. Her first lesson is with one of Master Dennet's apprentices and she's grateful he starts her out on a very tame mare. She does her best to follow instructions, but can't help being stiff on the horse's back for fear of falling off. If others approach, her voice is high and breathy as if she may be in danger of passing out or at the very least shrieking at any unexpected movement.

Once the lesson is over and her feet are on solid ground again, she's more amenable to chatting and explaining why she wishes to learn.

Comments

[inagutterson]

A crate is provincial Christine. He is a loftier dwarf. (Or Liadan read something like that to him once when they were all bored on a ship and Yngvi got hurled overboard and had to be fished out by Nasir.)

"See, right, thing is," okay let him figure out how to word this good for her. "Right, my understanding of the whole thing is that they're not all the same ages yeah? You've got old Templars and young Templars and lots of in-between Templars all clanking about with brooms and their self-righteousness stuffed up them so, it's not like they don't know what happens. I mean they see each other. No one can be that stupid."

Only he continues on. "Did sell someone water with blue dye in it. Probably did about the same, it was cloth dye, not cake dye. But like, it were up to him."

[aceso]

"There are older Templars," Christine confirms. "But no old Templars that I ever saw. We used to say they were forced into retirement before the grew too mad, but from the way some of them acted, they were not retired soon enough." Lyrium makes Templars crazy. That much she knows. It also makes them desperate for more lyrium. Beyond that, she doesn't know.

"Well, he was not dispelling any mage's spells with cloth dye in his body; that is for sure."

[inagutterson]

Yngvi is younger than he seems. Mid-thirties could be ancient to him as he pulls a face. "They look old. Look older than any of my many grandfathers and great-uncles however many times I need to remove them to make them uncles. I suppose it does explain the pies though."

Do you want to be a brave mage and ask about the pies Christine?

"He was dispelling something. From himself. It was very blue. Royal blue and all, no one can say we cheated him." Actually they can but like, they cheated him good and proper so it's all fair in his mind.

[aceso]

Is "unsure" an acceptable answer?

"Ah, that is true." She should be scandalized by this like a good Orlesian, but it happened to a Templar and she just can't muster any sympathy. Oh, well.

"But what do old Templars have to do with pies?" Now she's gone and done it. She asked the question.

[inagutterson]

The sensible answer but you're talking to Yngvi so that went flying out the window because he swung a trap on a chain at it like a tiny badass.

"Just saying that sometimes in Kirkwall you don't know what's in the pies. Especially if a doglord made them. Used to be lots of cats but then there weren't, and like...meat is meat. Tough meat, and some of the gangs used to whisper really weird things when you met them. Or stumbled over some of them going about the undercity. Things with lyrium in the juices would do that I reckon."

[aceso]

Well that's unsettling. Especially since she helped Avery in the kitchens to make a meat pie. But she's sure the Fereldan didn't use cat meat, right?

Right?

"Now that makes me wonder if nugs that run around the Deep Roads have lyrium in their meat." She frowns and gives Ponce a little bounce in her arms. "What do you think? Would a Fereldan lower himself to making a dog pie if there was nothing else, or would he starve first and let his dog eat him?"

These are the important questions, okay?

[inagutterson]

Oh Christine, dear sweet Circle-educated Christine you keep talking and providing him with more opportunities to open his lying mouth.

"Few times," he begins with that sort of shifty look about before he gets into the tale, the kind of 'you keep this to yourself because it's worth more than our lives' quality to his voice all communicated through how he lowers his eyebrows. "We did some jobs for the ones that stick about up near Orzammar. And they're just a weird sorry breed, don't talk about them like embarrassing cousins - you're Orlesian, bet you've got embarrassing cousins somewhere - anyway few times we'd get messages. Come pick up this shipment. I was a lad, small lad, fetch and carry boy, the young scamp years but I remember seeing these crates because lyrium gets carted about all special like because it's lyrium, got to be careful."

Everyone knows what happens when things with lyrium goes tits up. You're going to have a bad time. Especially in Kirkwall.

"Thing is, it came in crates. Just normal crates but I knew what lyrium looked like. It squeaked. Just like a nug and me, being a young scamp, and Gunnar - you mind my brother, Gunnar, course you do, he's the less charming and handsome version of me - we had a look. And it was a nug but not like any nug I've ever seen. Had these...not spikes or growths but crystals? I was young, it was years ago, I didn't touch them but I think that's what they looked like. They were growing out it, all down the back." His hands shape the air as he speaks, moving over an imaginary curve as his face takes on a haunted expression, as if what he saw all those years ago (not that many, he's not very old even if he doesn't know the exact numbers) has scarred him in some way.

Then the spell is broken because that's a really good question Christine. "I don't know actually. Reckon it should be asked though. To assess the character of folk."

[aceso]

Christine's lips purse, but she doesn't know her cousins at all, besides one being allergic to dogs and being the reason Ponce couldn't go with her mother. The woman has moved in with her brother's family, and that niece is why this tiny ball of fur is with Christine now.

"Whatever happened to it, I doubt such was a common occurrence or word would have spread." This story sounds believable because those crystallized growths have shown up on Templars, only in red, not blue.

The curiosity she has at wanting to know about a Fereldan's loyalty to his dog is warring with her sense of decency. It's not a very nice question to ask someone, is it? Especially someone she doesn't know well. But, wait. She has the King of Inappropriate Questions right here.

"I can think of no one better to ask than you. You are not shy about your struggles in Kirkwall. Surely no one would deny you an answer to such a hypothetical question, especially asked by someone who has done anything to survive."