OPEN | The daylight is almost gone

[mythalenaste]

WHO: Pel and YOU
WHAT: November/Firstfall open post
WHEN: Throughout Firstfall
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Pel has near-constant morning sickness, so if you are squicked by vomit, let me know somehow and I'll spare you.

I

Knitting is a refuge, though it is a trying task as Pel's hand heals. Healers have carefully arranged the bones at each healing, but there is still a great deal of stiffness in her right hand. It makes knitting a slow and imprecise effort. Right now, it's a baby blanket, made of the softest wool she has. The pattern is popcorn, little buds covering every centimeter to make the blanket thicker and warmer.

She can also be found at her regular job during the day, in the library, thoughtfully twirling a pen between her fingers as she studies some ancient text.

At night, she can be found on the battlements, facing the sunset and sending up a quiet prayer.

II

There are some days when Pel is hunched over her desk in the library, cheek against the surface waiting for nausea to lessen.

Some days she doesn't get out of bed.

There is one night when she walks into the tavern from her room above, her face covered with her neck handkerchief and eyes watering. She dashes to the far end of the room, picks up a plate with an abandoned half-eaten boiled egg on it, and flings the egg as far out the window as she can manage, even using some magic to make it go as far as possible. Face still covered like she is entering the sulfur pits of the Western Approach, she runs to the other side of the room, then the top of the first flight of stairs, before at last daring to breathe, suppressing a gag amidst her gasps.

Wildcard

Comments

CLOSED to Araceli

[mythalenaste]

Pel has gotten around the shoe thing by making for herself barefoot sandals from some narrow ribbon and beads. The rest of her is exquisitely dressed in the day-gown Araceli provided fabric for. She walks slowly to accommodate her friend, though the cane she and Merrick fashioned for her is fine indeed. She thinks if they are threatened with trouble, she will say that Araceli is her mistress, and she is helping her shop as she recovers from a recent illness. That lie will get them safely through the human district of Halamshiral.

She has chosen this city over Val Royeaux because it is an elven city, and she would much rather patronize an elven business for an expensive purchase. But when the finest elven staymaker in Halamshiral has her order and her measurements--a gestation corset with top panels able to be moved out of the way for nursing--they head into the nicer part of town, masks donned, looking for a bite to eat and the finest wine they can waste on their unrefined palates.

"Do you see anything you like?" she asks softly.

[foxsays]

In a simpler mask than the one from the Satinalia party - no pearls, instead the suggestion of scales picked out across her cheeks when the gilding catches the light - the dress more of a statement, cut the way all her dresses seem to be; low at the front, laced in tight but enough to let her move. A handy distraction if it comes to it, even if she still has both her rapiers because people think she's Antivan (mostly) or Rivaini (sometimes) or both (now and then) so some oddness, well that's just to be expected, isn't it.

It's not the first time she's left Skyhold since recovering but going to the Avvar hold was different to this, fewer people, all of them friends of Korrin's departed friend. Not inclined towards any sort of violence she and Pel have been on the receiving end of lately. Maybe even a week or so ago, Pel's question would've made her jump but she flicks her eyes over, still keeping a watch for anyone that might let their gaze linger on them too long.

"I might get a coat here. I think the people here will appreciate the need for warmth over style better than in Val Royeaux," she replies, just loud enough to be heard.

[mythalenaste]

"Probably. It's a little further south here, and it's not right on the sea." Pel's gaze sweeps the marketplace. "Especially with winter coming on. Good sturdy wool fits every budget. And some of it is very beautiful. In these parts they make loden wool from the lamb's coat where they herd them in the Dales. It's waterproof and nigh-indestructible, and dyes very well."

Such wool Pel had only seen at the Arlathvhen before joining the Inquisition; not only was it not produced in the Free Marches, but there was no need of such heavy clothing.

[foxsays]

"I miss being right on the sea," she doesn't need to say all the time since that's always a given with her, "for the markets. Everything has to come through them. I've been going around in a bear pelt but if I can get a coat dyed blue? I will absolutely get a coat dyed blue. If we were in Castileos though I'd get you something made of sealskin, that's what we use instead of wool."

Wool is usually too hot for Araceli back home, especially with the way that the heat rolls in off the waters but sealskin has saved many a life out on a ship.

"And what about you? I'm looking forward to seeing what you're getting."

[mythalenaste]

When Pel thinks of things she needs to shop for, she thinks of lightweight linen and heavy wool, and things for the baby. But this isn't that kind of shopping trip. This is Treat Yo'Self 9:42. And with as much as she has saved from her wages, she can afford it.

"I want," she forces herself to say, "something pretty for my hair. I want expensive wine and delicious food and to feel pretty. I want a wonderful memory with my wonderful friend."

She smiles at Araceli and playfully offers her arm to escort her into the heart of the marketplace.

CLOSED to Anders

[mythalenaste]

Pel is one-third of the way through her pregnancy and all she has to show for it is an oddly pointy bump and a very nice set of... Well anyway, she arrives at the healing tents for a regular check-up and sits down in front of Anders' tent to wait her turn, taking out her knitting to pass the time and exercise her hand.

[justice_is_blond]

He shows out his current patient, a refugee, and gives Pel a small smile as he sees her there.

"That's one thing I've not learned. Sewing I can do, but not knitting. Come in? How are you doing?" Anders holds the tent flap open.

[mythalenaste]

"Fine." She ducks in through the tent flap, lips in a narrow line. "That's a lie, sorry. I feel sick all the time. But since I can keep most of my food down, I was sort of hesitant to report that. I just have to go slow and stop early."

She sits on the cot with a wearied sigh.

[justice_is_blond]

She's tired. He keeps an eye on her as she sits down, nodding quietly.

"Sick as in sick to your stomach, or other illness?" Anders quickly casts, warming the tent up as he secures the flap. The weather is turning chill. More chill than it had been, at least. "And there's nothing wrong with going slow and stopping early. Your body is working rather hard on its current project and could use the rest."

[mythalenaste]

"Just sick to my stomach. And feeling tired all the time. I'm starting to have...memory problems. Forget what I'm doing in the middle of doing it. Words for things."

II

[conqueredhearts]

Iskandar had been in the tavern when Pel had come out. He'd watched her and had recognized what was happening rather quickly. After all, he remembered what pregnancy had been like for his own wife when he'd been alive. For that reason, he got up to follow after her up the stairs. He didn't really have to offer anything to her but she was a friend. That was enough in his eyes.

So, he moved up behind her and went to rest a hand on her shoulder where she'd stopped at the top of the stairs.

"Can I get you anything, my friend?"

[mythalenaste]

Oh, Iskandar. Iskandar is precious and huge and reassuring while Pel is still trying not to throw up. A few gasps later, she is calmer, and feeling a bit silly.

"No," she grumbles, leaning into his touch. "Well. Maybe a bit of ginger root, I think that's kept in the kitchen downstairs."

[conqueredhearts]

"Of course." He stroked her back once then offered her a warm smile. "Stay here. I will go get some for you."

Far better than to further expose her to the overwhelming smells again. Besides, he'd be able to move faster since he was taller and he wasn't trying not to throw up. So, he went back down and quickly found some of the root, something he easily recognized from watching cooks prepare food when he was a child. This he brought back up and his hand was returned to her back as soon as he reached her, petting her gently as he offered the root to here.

"Here. I remember my wife would chew on some of this as well when she was with child."

[mythalenaste]

Pel would double-take if she wasn't already being pretty obvious to someone who knew the signs. Him having a wife explains everything. She gives him a nod and takes a nibble off the root. The nausea eases, and her face regains some color.

"I think," she says with better composure, "that it is trying to kill me."

[conqueredhearts]

He laughed softly. "It must seem that way. Where is your room? I will walk with you there and keep you company if you like. Perhaps I could sing for you again while you rest."

Obviously he didn't mind doing that. He liked her and enjoyed her company. Besides, music for the child within her could be a welcome thing.

II

[judgemewhole]

James is usually in the Herald's Rest at some point, when he is actually in the hold, and has a night to breath. Tonight, he is taking some much needed private time in his corner, with his glass of wine and his book --

Right up until the moment that Pel came walking swiftly in, plucked up the egg and then firmly threw it out the window, before covering her mouth and running up the stairs to her rooms.

He stared after her for a moment, before closing his book with a snap and hurrying after her, "Pel? Pel, are you quite all right?"

[mythalenaste]

Pel coughs hard, the last spasm before her stomach starts to calm down. Who said being pregnant is magical? Because she'd like to find the first person who said that and shove his head in a bucket of ice, because it was definitely a man who said that. Or someone else who was never pregnant.

"Fine, James," she says in slightly less distress. "All perfectly--"

She has to spend a moment breathing deep, especially since she doesn't know how to end that sentence. Her hand rests on the slight bump on her stomach, silently telling the baby that they had better make this worth it.

[judgemewhole]

"You don't look fine, in fact you look as if - " He paused, as she put her hand to her stomach, to a slight rounded belly. His eyes suddenly went wide, and his mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Pel - are you - is that?" He fumbled for a moment, before he whispered quietly, "Did ... you get married and not tell me?"

[mythalenaste]

Pel is very good at keeping her face still. She gives him a beat longer before she decides what she truly, absolutely has to do.

"Of course not. This is yours, silly."

[judgemewhole]

He stares back at her for a long, long moment, his expression flickering through shock, surprise, was that a brief flicker of hope, before it was dashed by hard reality and pragmatism. His tone reflected that in it's dryness.

"Unless we have been consorting while I was sleepwalking, I find that hard to swallow, Pel."

I

[byblow]

While she's in the library twirling her pin, Alistair plonks down across from her at her table, several books in hand.

He isn't fond of libraries. It has nothing to do with the books, despite what he might say, and everything to do with having to be quiet and still and feeling like people are watching, waiting for him to step out of line, so they can tell him to leave. But he needs the books. So hello. He smiles at Pel, wiggles one hand (books included) in greeting, and says, "I won't bother you." Quietly. He's trying.

The effort gets him through a whole minute of silently, quickly scanning pages of ancient Nevarran history before he tries tipping his chair back onto its back legs, still reading while he searches for equilibrium. It isn't until he thinks he's found it that he looks up at Pel, clears his throat and raises his eyebrows, holding onto the table's edge with few enough fingers to make his intent clear—does she dare him?

[mythalenaste]

That gets a flat look.

"Alistair," she says loudly, breaking the typical library hush. "You're a thirty-year-old man. I'm not going to tell you whether or not you should tip your chair back at the table."

[byblow]

He flattens his chair abruptly, wood legs making sharp clapping sounds against the stone, and gives her a disgruntled look. "Fine." He folds his arms back behind the back of the chair and tries to hold still, face a pantomime of somber maturity.

A few second pass.

Out of the corner of his mouth, like he's trying not to be caught talking, he says, "You know Beleth well, right?" Of course she does.

[mythalenaste]

"I'd say well enough." Mostly lately. Before, Pel wasn't encouraged to bond with the other children, which translated into their adult lives as peaceful but mostly silence coexistence. Only after joining the Inquisition did Pel and Beleth start really talking. But she supposes she knows Beleth better than most people, by virtue of having technically grown up with her.

[byblow]

Well enough is well enough for Alistair to hum a little, considering, then ask, "Has she said anything about me and--things?"