I've been so unforgiving [OPEN]

[apostafuckyou]

WHO: Raylan Gibbs and YOU!
WHAT: catch-all for Haring
WHEN: all of Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Will probably contain discussion of the Crestwood plot and also Raylan's dad, so slavery, parental death, and past child abuse.

1. i've got wicked thoughts a brewin'
Raylan had been spending a lot more time in the tavern than usual, lately. He was probably drinking too much. More than once he'd had to teach his classes in the morning with a throbbing head and sluggish mind.

He'd slowed in the last week or so, though. He was too drunk for it already tonight, but maybe tomorrow he'd be able to get to sleep without the chemical assistance. That would be good. Raylan was getting sick of the nightmares. For now, he sat listening disinterestedly to the bard, having claimed a small table that was out of the way, but not huddled against a wall either.

2. no place to call my own
He'd also been absent from the library, lately, but he'd be seen there again, frantically scribbling notes as he flicked between four different books. Even though his focus was intense, he looked alive and lively in a way he hadn't since Crestwood. So absorbed was he in his research, he failed to notice his surroundings as well as he ought, occasionally crashing into someone with a book in his arms or asking them gruffly to hand him something, believing they were someone else.

3. just put two coins upon my eyelids
[Did the wildcard option need a pretentious song lyric on it? Yes. Yes it did. Wildcard me.]

Comments

1

[sistertohermen]

The tavern's always a good place to unwind and make conversation, even if she doesn't always choose to imbibe in more than water. Raylan--he'd been gone a while, that she could remember, and he doesn't look too interested in either unwinding or making conversation. Idle. Distant.

Rachette took an empty seat as his table without so much as a how do you do. "Copper for your thoughts."

2!

[alankazam]

He turns over the bag of nails without protest — though Maker if he knows what Raylan intends to use them for, bent over a table of books and scribbling set to start a fire. Alan leans precariously down from the ladder he's leaned against a shelf, using a hammer to gesture with equal carelessness.

It's another second before he realizes:

"Or, ah. Did you want a," He waves vaguely up to the top shelf. "One of those?"

Hammering hasn't exactly made him a popular figure, but if the shelves they've got finally splinter and fall in on themselves, it'll ruin the Inquisition's scant collection — and probably someone else's day. It's not like popularity's been something he's courting, anyway.

"Councillor Gibbs, right?"

[apostafuckyou]

Raylan glanced over at her, about the closest he could muster to a greeting at the moment. He took a long drink from his mug before he tried to answer her question, eyes directed down at it. He was taking his sweet time to speak. He'd speak when he was ready to speak.

"Nothin' much," he said finally. "Too drunk to think."

[apostafuckyou]

Raylan spent several moments blinking at the bag in confusion, then squinted up at the man on the ladder. "Son, I think we're both confused."

"Yeah, that's me," he said, reaching up to hand the nails back. "Don't gotta call me that, though, Raylan's fine. Hand me that one, just to your left?" he requested, gesturing to the book he'd been after originally.

[alankazam]

"I like this one. The cover's nice." Thick, smooth cloth, the sort of red that the sky used to get near sundown. He spares a quick glance for the title as he hands it down — if he can find some yellow ones, the shelves'll look like a sunset. "You teach the apprentices, I've seen you in the yard."

A thoughtful pause.

"Not as much lately." He leans back against the ladder, peering. It's half a question already, might as well follow through. "Did you get tired of it?"

[apostafuckyou]

How to explain this? 'No, I still love my kids as much as I ever have, I'm just simultaneously grieving and trying not to grieve my absolute catastrophe of a father and that leaves me with a lot of hangovers so other people are covering for me.'

He shrugged, looking down at the book he'd been handed. The title was some obscure shit about metaphysics and the Fade, not something most people would have the slightest interest in. "A bunch of 'em have graduated to the next levels of classes and all," he said. "I really just teach the little ones who need the real basics. Ain't got much to do now unless we get another wave of mage kids."

[alankazam]

"Perhaps," Alan agrees, with a noncommittal shrug that sends the ladder wobbling. He doesn't seem to notice. "Though they might like you to see their progress."

It's a moment before he remembers to blink. Right.

"Have you ever thought of teaching adults? Ones without the basics."

askin 4 a friend

[sistertohermen]

She can be patient. The Stone grants her that. People up here sometimes just seem too wound up, running here and sprinting there. "Lemmie guess: too drunk to think on purpose." Which isn't really an indicator of anything good going on. "Don't get so wrapped up in a drink you feel like shit for your students."

[apostafuckyou]

Raylan shrugged at the question. "Sure, but I ain't got a lotta time these days. I've done it for a couple people, rifters who couldn't read common when they got here. I'd do it for more if I weren't busy with this," he said, gesturing to the unnecessary number of books open in front of him.

[alankazam]

Busy.

"With sunsets," He murmurs, but he really means the Fade, and he knows enough to clarify, gesturing to the book— "Is that for the Rifters? Are you trying to understand where they came from?"

Alan props his chin on his hand, deliberating.

"There are... some of them here with magic of their own." Furtively: "Even if they can read, it could help for them to learn what they'll be expected to know."