OPEN | Hello...

[alankazam]

WHO: Alan + OTA
WHAT: Arrival Catchall
WHEN: Backdated, pre-Orlais Stuff
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Minor nudity in one prompt. Wildcards 100% welcome, feel free to HMU if you'd like a starter!

A || ROOKERY

There’s a naked man in the Rookery.

Maybe you needed to send a letter, or perhaps you were checking in with a scout.

Or — well, you’re here now at any rate, and there’s a naked man in the Rookery, ravenously shoveling handfuls of dry corn into his mouth. The birds squabble and hop between his shoulders, cawing with indignation.

He looks up to you slowly, making full and uncomprehending eye contact.

“Hello,” Alan mumbles through a mouth full of kernels. Nailed it.



B || AROUND SKYHOLD

Clothes have been obtained. Thanks to the harried ministrations of the Inquisition’s launderers, it’s a bit mismatched.

Maybe it’s a set from the uniform for the order of your choice — Templars, Wardens, the robes of a Chantry member. Gender doesn't seem to have played a major role in the selection criteria. Maybe that's even your stuff! 

"Do you know where we sleep?" 



C || WHEREVER FOOD IS EATEN

It's food o'clock, for those thrifty souls eating on the Inquisition's dime. The latest kitchen staff (apparently) seems quite cheerful about it, as he passes you a mug of stew.

“It’s horse,” Alan reassures, as though this is the finest signature of quality. “Grass-fed.”

It’s also a substantial bit spicier than usual. Someone let him help.



D || LIBRARY

It's not uncommon to find strangers here, furtively pouring over Skyhold's small collection. It's a little less usual to see them making their own additions, particularly to the rarer works of certain esteemed, scholarly explorers.

Someone should probably put a stop to that. Or join in.

Comments

[alankazam]

A raven horks and snaps at his shoulder, sending a little trickle of blood oozing out over the dark ink. Alan waves it off, and blinks.

Oh.

“Yes?” He knows that voice. He knows many voices, but this one is recent. It’s — “Pamala?”

No. Dead. “Pamelia.”

That's the one. Relief washes over his features, and after a moment he tosses the corn aside. The birds scatter after it, and Alan reaches for a little cloth bag — hesitates, hand hovering over a map, eyes lingering on the scone. He can’t seem to decide which to go for first.

Finally, he settles for the map, opting to hold it discreetly in front of his junk. Much better.

“I brought the rock."

[anacardiaceae]

She'd meant for him to eat the scone, not cover himself with it, but she supposes that's her fault. Phrasing, and all. At least the map is bigger than a child's handkerchief and she can focus on looking instead of not!looking now.

"I would say you should keep it." A beat. "The sending crystal, I mean. It's yours." Can she make that decision? ...sure. Who is gonna stop her?

No one here, that's for sure. The birds can hold a forum on it if they disagree.

Speaking of which, he's bleeding, and Pamelia reaches forward without thinking, stopping just short of making actual contact. "Hold still." It'll only take a second for the warmth to spread from her fingers to his skin and for the wound to knit itself shut. With that done, she unwinds her heavy scarf, long enough to pose as a blanket, and drapes it over his shoulders.

"Welcome to Skyhold."

[alankazam]

Alan glances over his shoulder in brief interest, quickly distracted again by the blanket. He doesn't object, eyes tracking to the scone once more.

"You're a mage," He comments, along the same lines as you've got red hair. "It's older than I expected, to be hidden. I never would've known it was here."

He shakes his head. Alan suspects he knows the Frostbacks better than most besides the Avvar.

[anacardiaceae]

"And you're a shapeshifter." Pamelia presses the scone into his hands this time and nods. "It's very well hidden, and I'm told was half a mess when everyone arrived after Haven. Now, at least, it can support the people flocking towards it."

As far as she can tell, anyway.

[alankazam]

"I'm just me." He shrugs, assumes that settles it, that they understand each other now. Alan's many things, but he knows better than to try and lump them all together. His grandmother had gotten like that before the end, Elene always said. Began to speak of herself as us, at once the raven, the woman, the flock. "There are so many. It's like a town."

He rips a chunk from the scone, chewing with ferocious intent. He's already talking again, before swallowing.

"Where can everyone be staying? It'll be blizzards soon."