faderift | OPEN | The daylight is almost gone

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.

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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."

"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."

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."

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.

She's not even certain the baby can hear yet, but she gives him a wan smile and a nod. Up to the room it is. It's just above the tavern, tiny but comfortable and fit for two people to live in.

But Daenerys is out, for now, as much of a comfort as she has been. Pel eases onto her own cot with Iskandar's help and sighs as she lies flat.

The large man easily helped since she didn't really weigh that much to him even without access to the vast amounts of power he'd once had. So once she was settled on the bed, he helped to adjust the pillow to make it easier for her and even pulled the blanket up so she could keep warm. Perhaps he was a warrior rather than a healer but at least he could do this much.

"Have you a chair in here?" He turned to glance for one. Obviously he was ready to go steal one from the tavern if need be.

She points to a stool. It's rather small for someone of his size, but it's what she has. "You don't have to stay."

Not that she minds it. It's nice, allowing herself to be looked after, for once.

Moving the stool closer, he sat down on it. He made it look like it was something made for children but there were no complains from him as he laughed over what she had to say.

"My friend, I do not have to do many things. Yet I am here because I wish to be and you have yet to throw me out." With that, he clapped his hands together. "Now, would you like a tale or a song?"

"Tell me a tale."

He nodded and then cleared his throat. He knew just the story that he wished to share that day. "Today I tell you the tale of a young boy with great pride. So much so that he let it overwhelm him to the point of forgetting the world around him in favor of his own desires. It might seem strange for one with so childish a mind to be the one we should focus on but I promise you that it is for good."

With that established, he began. "This boy was a mage in another time and place. In his place those with little magical blood running in their family line were though to be inferior. Often they were mocked for they could not accomplish things as grand as others. He was one such mage and was mocked heavily in his classes by peers and by teachers. It angered him to the point of him stealing a magical artifact from one of his teachers and learning of a summoning this teacher wished to perform soon."

OPEN | The daylight is almost gone

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