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WHO: Delphine Cormier, and you?
WHAT: Hilariously irritated Delphine tries to keep her mind off of smoking.
WHEN: Begininng of Harvestmere.
WHERE: All around skyhold.
NOTES: mentions of nicotine withdrawal? will update if anything comes up. If you want something specific feel free to hit me up on my plurk or send me a private message!

Library

She's grown accustomed to the library, she knew which books to look for, the places and the arrangement. But she's kept to herself most of the time, avoiding interaction with people. Small talk could be useful, if she knew what she could gain from the other person. But more often than not, she didn't know enough about the people surrounding her to bother with getting closer. She's heard gossip about the natives, some about the rifters, usually nothing interesting. But sometimes she picks up on bits of conversation that peak her interest enough for her to interrupt, if necessary, or just bring herself closer.

But today was different, she wasn't here to soak up the surroundings or jam as much information from the books into her mind as she could. She needed a distraction. So maybe small talk was just right, seeing as the books she usually picked up only frustrated her even more. She's managed to go through the packet of cigarettes she came with, and she knew that the withdrawal was going to be ugly. As a scientist and doctor, she knew full well what the symptoms were, she was mentally checking off every symptom that crept it's way into her behavior. But her logical mind couldn't stop them from happening, as much as she wished it could.

After practically slamming a book shut and letting out a heavy sigh, she turned to look at the people around her. Taking the faces and general aura. Her hands brushed away her, now very curly, hair away from her face, trying to calm her nerves. Whoever the person closest to her was, will be getting a polite smile and a small "hello," her french accent very obvious, even in that single word.

Training yard

On her trip to find the right thing to distract herself, she's stumbled upon the training yard. She wasn't a fighter, her posture was horrid and her grip weak. What she lacked in skill she made up in sheer frustration. She was slashing at the poor dummy like her life depended on it. She's gathered enough money to get herself a dagger, but, sadly, she wasn't very skilled in wielding it. It almost looked like she holding a scalpel, something meant to heal, instead of a weapon. But in a real fight, she could possibly attack important arteries, she knew what would be lethal, but she lacked the physical capabilities to actually help her do that.

Feel free to approach her, maybe give her a few tips, or stay away from the obviously irritated blonde.

Healing tents

She wasn't considered a healer by Thedas's terms, she didn't have the knowledge about the herbs and potions nor the magical abilities. But she tried to stay close, shadowing the healers doing their work. She would like to take notes, maybe even record some of the procedures done, but she didn't have the means to do either. Whenever they were short handed, and needed very simple help, on the other hand, she would offer to help. Although some of the people came in would get confused or suspicious by her strange medical jargon, so she's been doing her best to take it down. It felt good to be in this position again, to care for patients and away from board meetings and manipulative higher-ups.

Sometimes, if the problem was simple enough, she would take the matter into her own hands. If it was a wound that needed to be pressed until someone came with their magic or strange concoctions to help, or just a simple check up.

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Gwenaëlle isn't a healer. Nor does she have any particular desire to become any better acquainted with the healing tents than she already is; for her own needs, she does have and has previously wielded sufficient clout to have a healer sent to her, if she wishes it. And the tents feel oppressive when she visits, a reminder of the hours spent here only waiting--

It wasn't so long ago, and now there's another loss, and what next? Who next? She is so tired.

--which is why she's here, familiar enough from Asher's slow decline to wave off offers of assistance and beeline for where the herbs are kept. For the most part, her knowledge of such things is rudimentary - easier, often, to order a servant to put together what's needful than learn to do so herself - but in what she does for herself she feels a good deal more comfortable knowing what it entails, particularly in anything that involves exposing a weakness.

(And isn't that everything?)

"Excuse me," she says, briefly, as she moves around Delphine to find what she's looking for.

Now that wasn't a face she knew. She's spent enough time here to get to know the healers and even some of the regular patients. The ones that would always somehow get themselves hurt. She briefly watched the woman, silently. She knew what she was doing from the looks of it, knew which herbs she wanted, but it was still peculiar. She gave her space, taking a step back and observing her. Delphine rarely interrupted people. Be it they were healers doing their job or patients at rest, but this was too different, and she's heard enough stories to be wary of different. You never know.

So just in case, she thought it would be better to at least know what she was doing. "Are you looking for something?" Her voice was calm, but stern enough to show that she was serious. She knew the answer, it was obvious she was looking for something, but outright telling a person to explain themselves would be rude.

"Obviously."

--is the most polite and helpful answer to that question, clearly, delivered without actually looking up from what she's doing. "If you want to ask something less easily answered by opening your eyes, please feel free."

Or don't, her tone heavily implies, but - for all the sharpness of the words, there's something automatic about it, lacking in a certain heat. More rote than personal, and brittle like spun glass that might soon shatter. Her hand closes around the pestle a little firmer than it needs to, white-knuckled, so as not to tremble.

Now as much as she would rather pull away from the women, she had to keep an eye on her, at least to make sure she got what she needed. She doesn't respond, instead choosing to lay low and observe her again. She noticed the strong grip, and that could indicate so many things, but most importantly, that she needed assistance.

"Let me help you," her hand didn't go straight to pulling away the pestle, instead it was open palmed near her. But the gesture was stern, so was the look she gave her. It contrasted her overly polite way of speech.

For the most part, Araceli has been discharged from the healing tents since she'd proved that she could move around with the aid of a crutch and even a cane on a good day. Usually someone has come to her room instead of her coming to the tents but she needs to get out and walk (or hobble, she feels so slow she can barely think of this as walking) when she makes her way to the tents and takes a seat on an empty stool, right leg stretched out in front of her with a grimace.

Out of breath from her efforts, she doesn't spot Delphine at first as she carefully stretches her leg a little more before she glances over. "Hola, are you new? Or did we meet and I forgot?"

Her smile is apologetic; the lyrium has worked itself out of her system, and her head is her own but she hasn't really felt up to asking about her earliest points in the healing tents. Hopefully this wasn't someone who had to deal with her when she was a mess.

"I am new," new to this situation, to these tents, to pretty much everyhing. But she gave Areceli a gentle smile, letting down the bandages she was arrangingthe table and made it closer to her. She took a quick glance over her leg, scanning it silently. She could guess she needed assistance with that, but it was rude to presume so instead she begins with a question.

"I'm Delphine Cormier," Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were fixated on Arceli's leg for a long moment, before shifting away to look at her. "How may I help you?"

"Araceli Bonaventura, normally at your service. Currently indisposed." The idea of attempting her usual sort of bow almost makes her laugh until she remembers how painful falling would be, and how much more painful having to ask for the help to get back on her feet would be. So no, she will owe Delphine a bow when she's more herself.

"The healer usually comes to my room, I pay for that since it only seems fair, but I am bored, and I am to walk and get air - the poultice needs changing." There's a grimace on her face and no small amount of trepidation in her voice because even though the wound is far better than it was, it's still uncomfortable to deal with that, or to have someone else do it as she holds out her left hand, the thumb still bound to keep it in place to heal. "I was told I can't do that one-handed without making a mess of it."

"It's good to meet you," her expression softens, and with that she listened carefully, before turning away to gather the herbs and start preparing the poultice. It wasn't something she did with ease, being someone that mostly relayed on modern medicine, traditional medicine was still new to her. But she knew the basics. In the meantime, she stays quiet, as to not mess anything up. She heats up the mix and lets it cool down just a bit before spreading it on the cloth. She brought it with her then left it in reach before dragging over a chair to sit near Arecli's leg.

"May I?" She looked down at her leg, hands ready to pull away the bandages. It was obvious she didn't need to ask, but bedside manners and all that.

Propping her crutch up so she doesn't drop it - or worse, have it knock things over, because she's very much over the causing a scene in the healer's tents days - Araceli takes a seat and carefully removes her boot, laced just tight enough to stay on, not enough to put any pressure on anything.

"Si," she murmurs, bracing herself because it doesn't hurt as much as it did but she doesn't enjoy it all that much. Slimy stuff being smeared over her leg. "I'm hoping it should start to scar soon. Then I have one less thing to worry about maybe." Or maybe not, until it scars she won't know exactly how deep it all goes but it would be good to get beyond this stage of poultices and bandages at last.

If only she had modern medicine on her side, an X-Ray would be perfect right now. Alas, what she had was herbs and strange mixes that smelled like something putrid most of the time. She let herself pull away the bandages, hands working in a clinical, almost systematic way. There wasn't a wince at seeing the inflamed skin or the state of her leg.

"Scar? How long has it been since the injury occurred?" She could cause from the state of her leg, but some confirmation could help her guess how long it will be until she was walking on her own again.

"Last month." Saying that is...hard. Harder than she expects in all honesty now that she has her mind back with the lyrium gone from it as she gives a tight smile, ready to explain. "I cannot give an exact date, I was-- I was not myself. Not for a while."

There's a soft laugh and a gesture at the two of them, the tent, the herbs; very much still not herself in her own mind but better than she was, moving forward, not back, not just stuck in some terrible rut so it will have to do.

"Did you hear about a group of people with shards who were captured? I was part of that group, it was back then at the end."

Cosima had intended to seek Delphine out as soon as she got back from the trip to close the rift. Of course, very little about that trip went as intended. Cosima doesn't know what, if anything, Delphine heard in the time she was gone or the time after when Cosima was in the healing tents getting purged of lyrium. But regardless, it's been a long time now since Delphine came through a rift and they still haven't really talked.

Cosima had been heading toward the library, originally, but she'd caught sight of Delphine from a window looking over the yard and so rerouted.

"Hey," she says, as she approaches. "Guess 'do no harm' isn't really practical in Thedas, huh?"

She's heard of the incident, but hasn't got much information about it, mostly she's picked up on people having hushed conversations and maybe asked them very basic questions.

The familiar voice stops her from giving the target another stab, gaze turning to meet her, expression softening just a bit. As far as she knew, Cosima just disappeared, and based on their last conversation, Delphine read into to it and came out with an entirely incorrect conclusion. So she was surprised to actually be approached by Cosima, but kept it hidden well enough. But she didn't hold back the wry laugh that escaped her throat. She's left behind 'do no harm' the minute she's held a gun, or better yet, tortured Rachel.

"I see you're still cheeky," with that she turned to face her, dagger going back into it's sheath. "'Do no harm' never meant pacifism. 'Just war' applies here." Just war has been applied to her for some time now, but she keeps that to herself.

"Dude, I know. Joke." She smiles a bit, though the wear of the past weeks shows on her. She's more or less back to her baseline level of health, such as it is, but it was a rough go.

"Sorry it's been so long. I meant to find you before I left Skyhold, but..." But she hadn't, for reasons Delphine can probably guess. Delphine always had a good read on her, even before they'd come from different points in their timeline. Better, certainly, than Cosima sometimes had on her. As such, Cosima's not entirely sure where to begin.

She's grown so accustomed to things being tense between them back home that she might have forgotten how light things could be. Cosima jokes. Her cheer, or so called "cheekiness", was what stood out to Delphine from the moment they met. Her strained smile relaxed for a moment, but she was still reading into her every action, something was off and she could sense that a mile away. But what brought her worry to the surface was the word 'left'. Considering the most recent events that could mean...

"It's fine. What happened?" She can explain their differences later, and try to pinpoint when Cosima was from after she made sure she was alright. "We can talk after you explain what happened. Don't lie to me." That might come off sterner than what Cosima was used to from Delphine, she wasn't expecting a straight answer, so she had to show that she was serious. She can't let go of all the distrust just yet.

"Whoa," Cosima says, holding up her hands. "I hadn't actually planned on it, for the record. With the whole seeking you out to talk thing. Besides, lying about it would be pretty dumb when you can just ask any of the other people who were there with me." She wonders, not for the first time, what happened to Delphine between the last time Cosima saw her and now. What caused such instinctive distrust in that direction?

Instead of pressing that right now, though, she says, "You know, probably, that those of us with shards can close rifts. I went along on a trip to Craintellier to get more practice at doing that. But, um. We got attacked. And captured. So it didn't go quite according to plan."

She kept silent, teeth sinking into her bottom lip in some attempt at comforting herself. She wanted to explain herself, but she had to understand what happened first. No amount of coping mechanisms could help right now, she was already irritated and seeing Cosima added a whole other layer to the mix. But she still tried, hand brushing through her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

"Are you hurt? Who attacked you? How did you escape?" She'll yell at her later, after bombarding her with questions. She didn't expect her to be with the people that got captured, so she didn't gather much information about the incident. But she realized that was one too many questions, but she had to know as much as she could.

"I didn't escape, we were rescued." Cosima removed her glasses to clean them, and a distant, unhelpful part of her brain volunteered that this was probably a distancing technique and not just the fact her glasses were smudged. She told that part of her brain to shut up.

"A group called the Venatori who doesn't care for the Inquisition. To put it mildly. They caught most of us, but my friend Avery escaped and managed to get help. They got us out." Not quite safe and sound, perhaps, but they didn't actually lose anyone. Under the circumstances, Cosima counts that as a win.

"I see," the rage inside of her was building up, but she wasn't planning on taking it out on Cosima, nor was it wise to charge at a group you knew very little of. So, instead of pushing her for more answers, she took the hint that she wasn't giving her everything that it was still too early. But the worry was still there, she couldn't help it. She had to repeat her question.

"How are you feeling?" She couldn't see anything currently bleeding out, or anything apparent, but something like that would easily leave someone distressed. She's been shot, and she would rather not see Cosima go through any of the things she has experienced. Not that being shot was like being held captive, but she didn't want to think that what happened to her wasn't as bad.

"Um. Better." Delphine's reaction, while not entirely unexpected, is still hard to parse. Cosima isn't sure whether she wishes she had the extra memories that would put them closer to the same place or just wishes Delphine weren't so far away from her. Both, maybe. Neither. She doesn't care for it either way.

"I mean, part of me still wishes for like, sterile conditions or someone who understands basic germ theory, but on the other hand, whatever spirit healing is, it seems to be pretty effective. They've got me back on my feet faster than I expected. Obviously." As there she was. On her feet.

Cosima feels this could have gone better.

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open | Les colchiques

healing tents.

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healing tents;

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Training Yard

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