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?"