Entry tags:
OPEN | Hello...
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!
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.

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"I'd like to see it. If it's really alright. I've met so few of them — and everyone talking earlier, they were so," He waves a hand, lost for the right word. "— Could I go with you?"
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But really, she had him at free stuff.
"The —" Rifters, that's what everyone was calling them now. "— Rifters, have any of them been mages?"
He assumes if she's sleeping with one, she'll know.
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i am so sorry for the delay on this dude, i got sick and have had no head for log tags
It sounds like it was home, like home used to be, but deep in his heart Alan knows that learning was never voluntary. Everyone had to do their part.
"If you'd been her, do you think you still would've tried to learn?"
it's fine!
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Like his.
"Like a lot of them, out there. But I don't know. A man on the crystal — Anders — he was talking about schools, too. I don't know that they value the way we learned."
It's more of a problem without another mage in the family, Alan supposes. Still, it doesn't seem like it should be the only option; there are things you can't learn in books.
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Well. Never let it be said that she holds back on her feelings. "And that's the thing, if it's non-Andrastian and non-human, I have my doubts that other values would be respected. Even if they don't mean to, it'd be easy to assume it's the same way for everyone and go from there."
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"Mass-murdering." A beat. Well. Okay. He turns aside slightly, swipes the bangs from his face. It's a small gesture of agitation, but it's there. "Ah —?"
Forgive him, he's rather lost that train of thought.
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He doesn't swear, not unless it's bad. He also doesn't usually advocate execution, not unless it's real bad. This situation qualifies for both.
"Why is he alive?"
Alan finally blurts out.
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