Sataari

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Sataari

WHO: Taashath + OPEN
WHAT: Catch-all for Wintermarch
WHEN: All through the month
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Come get giant qunari CR!

I. SKYHOLD

Most days were good days for the warrior. He laughed, he smiled and he spent his time among friends and peers. Training, teaching, working for something.

Other days were not as good, when memories came to him and he swore he could almost hear again; the low thunder of the aftermath of an explosion. Those days Taas withdrew from the rest of the soldiers and spent his time on the battlements, looking at the mountains. It reminded him of freedom, to see the high rise of the snowy peaks - yet there was the the drop from the wall and deep into the chasm that settled his stomach even more.

Nothing came without danger, did it?

"Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun," he says softly. There was nothing to struggle against, even when all he could see were the faces of his antaam.

Taas keeps his back free, his weapon in the barracks and his thoughts stubbornly on the future, but he could probably use a distraction.

II. TAVERN

Some nights Taashath spent in the tavern, having a few drinks and talking to people. He does his best to not get too drunk, but sometimes it was nice to let go and be the guy who had to sleep it off on the floor.

...few people could move him once he was down, after all.

Other nights he enjoys less alcohol and more games, and he's still trying to master Wicked Grace. Diamondback is more his thing, as well as Dead Man's Tricks. It would be nice to get some Qunari games in the tavern, but he doubted any of them were easily found in the south.

Join him for drinking or games?

III. TRAINING RING

The swing of his dragon-tooth mace crushed the target dummy under him, and he makes sure to follow up the weight of the weapon by bracing himself with his legs. Swinging the thing was different from his usual axe, but the destruction was obvious. Standing back, he looks at the broken piece of straw and wood, rolling his shoulders a bit.

He still preferred the axe, but Korrin's present was damn amazing.

"So who wants to spar? I need to work on my speed, and I'm sure I'll be decent training for facing any Red Templar behemoths." Taas grins, leaning a bit on the mace and looking at the people gathered.

IV. SIGN LANGUAGE CLASS

Taashath's sign language class was still going, although it was mostly teaching non-verbal commands to the scouts. The people who came back for more were always welcome, and it was really a blessing for the deaf warrior to have more people around that were able to sign. It meant he didn't always have to guess half the words people said to him, and the most important conversations couldn't be misunderstood.

(...silent ways of flirting was another thing that he was asked a lot, so Taas has to try not to laugh any time he sees it used outside his 'classroom'.)

The door to the semi-broken tower that the soldiers used as a place to nap between shifts during the night was always open when Taas was teaching, and by now he had dragged some old benches and blankets there to make it a little more comfortable.

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Cyril probably wouldn't admit it without being prompted, but when he realized that Taas wasn't among the light and warmth of the tavern he was driven to look for him. It was one of those days he closed his shop early and not finding Taas among the crowd made him worry a bit - as far as he knew Taas wasn't on an assignment.

When he finds Taas among the battlements he carefully came up close to him and lightly touched him, just as a gentle way to make sure Taas knew he was there.

Korrin visits the battlements often; she tends toward restlessness when the Inquisition's forces aren't immediately needed, and all the pacing helps her think. Plus, the view isn't anything to sneeze at, either. Seeing all those majestic mountain peaks, she can almost pretend that the suffering below doesn't exist. Almost.

The muttered Qunlat gets her attention, and though Korrin isn't trying to be stealthy, she increases the strength of her tread so Taas will know he's not alone. When she reaches his side, the Vashoth woman gives him a gentle nudge, turning her face up to his so he can read her lips. "Copper for your thoughts?"

Taas slowly looks down at the elf, still lost in thought. The small, lithe paleness even takes a moment to actually sink in as familiar. Not qunari, not Ashaad.

Kadan.

The warrior sighs, trying to shake the memories away and focus on Cyril instead. "Hello. I'm sorry, I'm not up to any fun right now."

The slight vibrations in the stone makes him take his eyes off the mountains and glance over at the person approaching. The points of Korrin's horns are easy to recognize, but somehow that just makes it worse. Qunari.

(They looked a bit like his superior's. He had never really thought of that before.)

She touches him and he tenses a bit, taking a deep breath before he looks down at her. His smile is tired and a little guarded. "Hey, kadan. I don't know what good my thoughts are right now."

Cyril can see that in Taas's face and the way he's carrying himself and instead of being discouraged he shrugged. He had admitted his feelings, and part of loving someone meant being there even when things weren't fun. That had been something he had learned with Merrick a long time ago.

"I don't mind, Taashath," he said. "We don't have to have fun to spend time together. I am here for you. If you need to talk or need company, I'm here. I'm also willing to leave if you need space."

Wintermarch seemed like the time for a lull, in a way. The world was cold and everything was at rest. Waver imagined that there was no better time to finally settle into a routine than during such a quiet stretch of time, when the illusion of quiet was all around. Not that he had found Skyhold or the surrounding areas to be quiet. It was just the weather.

He filled his days with whatever courses were on offer via the school at Skyhold, resting only one day a week. When there weren't courses, there was an effort to get better at riding, and then there was bi-weekly trip to the tavern to spend a few hours decompressing and planning for the next two weeks.

There were a few things that Waver saw there that he liked observing. How people grouped together, the languages, but more interesting to him were the games being played. He always sat at the bar, observing quietly with both of his hands wrapped around his tankard, trying to divine the rules of the given game. Not that he ever did, staring only got one so far, but it was entertaining enough to try and piece things together.

So it was for the current evening. There were familiar faces, but Waver remained distant, happy at his seat.

At first, she's only searching for a specific soldier on his break (things to do, people to harass). But it's becoming quickly apparent that he's not among the little crowd — and the class begins before she can wait the man out.

Begins with one of the largest qunari she's ever seen. Maker.

On the bright side, giant hands mean that it's easy to spot the signs. A useful trick in the field. It'll be a long time before she manages to make it stick, but some gestures translate easily enough. Wren waves, then waits a polite distance back, for the others to shuffle out.

"May I ask you something," Her hands fold neatly behind her back, she makes her slow way forward, to put her face closer into view. Speaking to dwarves from such a height must be a trial. "Monsieur Taashath?"

Being back in Skyhold again is strange after spending most of the winter up in the hold. Skyhold means Yngvi needs to have a routine instead of getting to be a guest, no sleeping in for hours and hours because he can, because there's a fire wherever he's chosen to sleep. Still, he can drink as much in Skyhold as he can at Honey Badger Hold so that's one good thing it has going for it at least.

The tavern is loud, louder still when the nugs follow him in, squeaking at his feet but it's common enough that no one bothers to complain unless they happen to be particularly new.

Grease is streaked up one side of Yngvi's nose tonight when he comes to peer at the table. Or rather at the occupant because he generally feels like he's allowed to stare at the world, at things and people in it. Especially big grey things like that.

"You one of the boring proper Qunari ones or one of the fun ones?" He asks because he's nosy with the manners the Stone gave a bronto. And so is the nug peering out of his pocket.

There aren't that many people Araceli would trust that are so much bigger than her for sparring with, but Taashath is a friend of Korrin's so she feels more reassured as she watches from outside the ring before loosening her rapiers, hopping over the fence. Not that he'd hurt her on purpose but she's been careful in getting back on her feet after the Venatori; the healers are in no great rush to see her again soon, she's sure.

But she wants the practice. Needs it. And so with a smile she dips into a bow before she speaks.

"Small and fast isn't a problem, I hope?"

Noting the tension, Korrin eases away a little in hopes that will help. She's not offended; whatever he's going through is not about her, after all. She sighs, hating to see him like this but not knowing how to help. "You can give it a shot, if you need the outlet. I won't judge, you know that. But if you think it'll do more harm than good, we can just hang or I'll leave you be. Whatever makes you comfortable."

It was still new to him, sharing himself like this with the elf - trying to remember that it wasn't all about the sex any more between them. Taas would happily listen to Cyril talk about all his problems and always did his best to help, but the opposite was... strange.

New.

"No. You can... stay." He gives the elf a small smile, even if it doesn't fully reach his eyes. "I'm just remembering shit."

Taas brushes his hair back between his horns and shakes his head a little. Of all the people here in Skyhold, Korrin was probably the best person to have around if things got dark.

(...and maybe he didn't really want to be alone.)

He briefly glances over at the mountaintops again, and sighs. "Have any of the Tal-Vashoth you've been around seemed... off? Unhinged, perhaps, as if they are making up for time when things were decided for them?"

"Small and fast is what I need to work on," Taas replies with a grin, easing his stance a bit to look at her. Small, fast and with double blades. All things really effective against someone big and slow with a massive weapon.

He had spent a long, long time as a young man learning to accommodate for that, but rogues still got away from him at times - and his scars told those stories. The warrior would not pass up a chance to work on his defense.

"Since I can't hear you, if you need to stop and I'm not looking at your mouth, stomp three times quickly on the ground. Hard."

Taas looks up from his ale as he notices the strange vibration of nug feet. (More nug feet than was proper in a tavern, as most of them were pickled and didn't trot over the floor.) Then he watches the dwarf and his pink friends come to stare at him, and Taas isn't sure just how drunk he is right now. At least the staring is mutual, because damn.

Nugs.

Reading Yngvi's lips, the massive warrior laughs and shakes his head. "If you ask me, a proper qunari should be a fun one!"

Big hands really did help, especially when the class was pretty full and Taas still towered over everyone. It was always interesting to see new faces in the gathered crowd, and he's a little curious why she was there. Everyone had their own reason to learn, even if most of it these days were for the scouts.

Once the class was over, Taas notices the wave and waits while the tower is cleared out so she can come to speak with him. The light was pretty good inside to make sure everyone could see, so he looks down at the woman's lips to read the words there.

"Oh? What can I do for you, ma'am?

Cyril came closer and then leaned against the wall a bit so he could look up at Taas without feeling like he was being too overbearing.

"The way I see it, there are several ways to deal with unwanted memories. You could talk about it, or we could come up with some kind of distraction. And anything could be a distraction from playing a game to volunteering to clean out the stables." He clarifies only to reassure Taas he didn't mean sensual distraction. "Whatever you want, I'm here to help." Even if it meant spending the rest of the day around horse mess.

Getting up from his seat, Taas gently touches the observing man's shoulder as a warning that he's coming in to stand at the bar. He was a big guy, after all, and some people were too exhausted or too drunk to not take offense when someone took up as much space as he did.

"Sorry about that, man," he says to Waver before he flags down the bartender with a shiny sovereign "Calbot, another ale!"

Waiting until he has his new tankard, the large qunari takes a moment to check the foam before he drinks. Old habits die hard, after all. Taas was pleasantly buzzed and on a roll with the winnings from the game tonight, so he was in a very good mood.

"Are you looking to join?"

The thought of shoveling dirt the rest of the day does actually make the warrior slightly hum with amusement. Not because he was in a particular mood to do such a thing, but because Cyril suggested it. The elf was too sweet sometimes.

"That's fine, kadan. I think... I think I prefer just staying here for a while." He reaches a hand down to lean it gently on Cyril's shoulder. The warmth of the elf's skin is more comforting than he had imagined, so he leaves it there.

"You see a lot of bad shit on Seheron. People dying, Shit burning down. Innocents being caught in the crossfire. All that stuff. Sometimes it just... sneaks back on me again."

Korrin's brow furrows as she stares off, thinking back to her past. However, she glances back, reminding herself that it's harder for Taas to read lips if he can't see them. "...Tama said that my parents were like that at first, pretty manic and running around trying to do everything that the Qun didn't allow before. They settled down after a while, though. You know, they had to get it out of their system. It's a good thing they were relatively young, too, I think that helped them adjust.

There were some like that in the Valo-Kas, too. Shokrakar didn't allow anyone in who would endanger the group, but she did take on some people that other companies would pass up because they were slower to adjust. She said everyone deserved a fair shot, so she'd give them one. And for the most part, when she did they made a genuine effort not to let her down. Sure, it took them a while to gain some balance, but they eventually found it, one way or another.

I remember this one guy who I swear had a kid in every Tal-Vashoth or Vashoth settlement was passed through. He sure as hell made up for the Qun's restrictions on sex as though his life depended on it. We honestly lost track of how many there were, but if you see any in Rivain with gold eyes and long noses, it's a fair chance they're his."

Maybe she'll swap in the cane at some point, because she absolutely does want to figure out how to use that for fighting but getting to grips with this is going to be more than enough for starting out.

"Where I come from? No one at all gets so tall. And no one fights like warriors in Thedas." Since she doesn't want to assume anything about what Korrin may or may not have said about where she comes from, she has to fight the urge to laugh because there aren't any warriors at all. A whole world of rogues but that...that would be a distraction.

"Got it, gracias. On three or just go?" Araceli was taught with the rules of how to duel, and inside a practice ring? That all comes back to her as if Marjani were about to come around the corner and critique her as she settles her grip on the rapiers more comfortably, sliding into the proper stance.

Stroganugg is particularly heavy of tread. Being the chunkiest. This is what happens when you're the favourite of the pack, you get fed the choicest scraps from Yngvi's many sandwiches. Truffles makes a bid to get up on the table, and Nug Wellington wiggles his face because those cards look tasty. (Someone has listened to the lessons about devouring something to gain their power it would seem, because that's the only way to do things of course.) Rump Roast decides to just go inspect some giant feets instead.

"I'm from Kirkwall. Proper qunari set my city on fire and chopped the head off the viscount though he wasn't a big loss personally, all things considered but I know there are three types: proper qunari, runaway not-qunari-anymore and qunari-that-weren't-ever-qunari. Last ones are always fun, but sometimes in Kirkwall the middle ones chucked stuff at you."

And then he sits down, hauling the nugs back into his lap and then onto a seat with a command to bloody behave yourselves, taught you manners up in that hold so Aura would think you were good and charming before he adds the most important bit. "You're all offensively tall."

Waver held up a hand, the universal no harm, no foul gesture. He was used to people of larger sizes anyway. Iskandar was a giant and took up more space than any man ever should. By comparison, Taas was nothing.

"What, throw someone who has no idea how the game works into something with stakes?" he said, the thread of a laugh in his voice. "I think that my barely moneyed self would be in fairly entertaining debt. Although I wouldn't say no to closer observation if you wouldn't object to a warm body at the table."

"Wren," The slip of a smile. She speaks a touch slowly, to edit herself, to rid the perhapses and maybes from her speech; all the little moderations that compose the second grammar of Orlesian politeness.

As though uncertainty were a kindness.

"I’m looking for a scout. A human boy: twenty, with sandy hair." Could someone have tipped him off? Given him some cause to run? "His name is Jacques Bergier, but he likely uses another.”

Johannes, a freckly, gangly kid with a habit of startling when spoken to. He was starting to get good, despite it all — was. He won't have been by the past three weeks.

“Has he attended any classes?”

Edited (i'm so sorry for the late edit, i was rereading this and went "i just used both words i said she wouldn't be using" lmfao) 2017-01-19 08:51 (UTC)

Christine pales a little at the question, especially after seeing what he just did to that training dummy. In one hand she holds her staff, and in the other a sword hilt, though there is no blade attached. She's come down here to practice her sword skills as a relatively new Knight-Enchanter, but so far she hasn't faced off against anyone. She really can't practice against anyone either, because in order to raise her barrier and keep it constant, she needs to alternate between using spells to charge her spirit blade and dispelling the charge when striking a victim. She can't just use spells on him.

"I am afraid I would not make a good partner," she says, eyeing his mace with concern. "Though that weapon does remind me of the way behemoths swing their arms." Still, here she is in the training ring and she does want to be of use if she can.

"Is there any way I can help that doesn't require me to lock weapons with you?"

A hard day's work deserved a reward, didn't it? He had taken a few bruisings from his students that day, which pleased him more than anything. It meant they were improving, and he really couldn't ask for more than that. The other bruises probably came from his own clumsiness - Skyhold had a way of adding them to his body without his noticing, tricky thing.

Glancing around, he looked for a familiar face, in one of those moods were solitude didn't sit well with him. His eyes landed on Taas and he smiled wide, making his way over to the other, making sure to put himself with Taas' line of immediate sight and be acknowledged before he took a seat beside him.

"Is now a good time to learn those rude greetings you promised me?" he both asked aloud and signed (his fingers a touch halting, but fairly confident, if choppy).

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Page 1 of 7

Sataari

SKYHOLD

Skyhold, during those less awesome days.

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ii tavern (not sure if you want to keep cr from previous meme, fine with either choice!)

iv!

ii;

iii;

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(December happened and I don't even remember it, I'm so sorry)

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Don't even worry about it. December's like that.

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III

TAVERN (before leaving on the Sulevin Blade Mission)