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[Open] the one who survives by making the lives of others worthwhile
WHO: The Medicine Seller and Open!
WHAT: The Medicine Seller wants to get his bearings. Or sell medicine. Since he’s a medicine seller.
WHEN: Feb 2017/Guardian, 9:43 Dragon
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Open starters below - message me on this journal or at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
GreenRivers if you want a private starter.
WHAT: The Medicine Seller wants to get his bearings. Or sell medicine. Since he’s a medicine seller.
WHEN: Feb 2017/Guardian, 9:43 Dragon
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Open starters below - message me on this journal or at
A. Got A Remedy For That
The thing the Medicine Seller noticed about people was that they generally saw what they wanted to see so long as it fit their personal narrative of the world. Despite his numerous tells, he'd passed easily as human in his own world. He was the right general shape, and what words couldn’t explain away, a pretty face could certainly distract from.
Here, it was even easier to go unnoticed. Most had but a passing familiarity with the Dalish and their lore, so when they saw his pointy ears and facial markings, and assumed he was just some elf who'd nicked an Orlesian noble's bathrobe and was going for A Look, it made things quite convenient. And he wasn't one to deny people their assumptions when they benefited him.
Dalish may have had a stigma, but between that or being considered the very thing he existed to fight, the former misconception was infinitely less trying.
He didn’t have a stall set up, so much as a few planks of wood balanced together to make a crude, make-shift table. Which he had then covered with a cloth. There were bottles, flasks, vials, powder packets, small, colourful silk pouches and ornate lacquered boxes, bright and vibrant against the gray winter backdrop of the fortress. He’d set a few other planks down to sit on, sparing his knees the cold, winter mud.
He was out of the way of the main hubbub of the merchant stalls and there were no signs or boards with a list of prices, but the vibrancy of his attire and stock made him and his wares impossible to miss. If one was in need of a remedy, they could do far worse.
B. The Price of Knowledge
Being a stranger in a strange land was new to the Medicine Seller, but once the novelty of it wore off, it really wasn’t so different from home. People were people wherever you went - however different their appearances, customs, and cultures, they were still driven by the same emotions.
Still, customs were important, and moreover, he hated not knowing things. Especially things that could make him seem ignorant. It didn’t do to be ignorant if you could help it.
The library had proven beneficial. At the very least he had become acquainted with the Chantry’s version of Thedosian history. He doubted it was in any way accurate or removed from bias (which the historian Genitivi had at least admitted to in his writings), but it was still useful. The more he read, the more he understood the attitudes and inclinations of this society.
The books on medicine were also quite informative - elfroot seemed to go in just about every cure for any ailment which certainly made his job easy. Deep mushrooms also seemed to be a fairly common component.
He was not particularly neat with his research - books were scattered about his work space, some half open, others in haphazard stacks. His notes on Thedas’s medicinal herbs were just as erratically spaced, though his calligraphy and brushwork copying the illustrations was meticulous and quite skillful, if completely illegible to almost anyone in Skyhold.
Still, history and medical books could become a bit tiresome after a while, even for someone with the Medicine Seller’s boundless patience. He deemed a break necessary and went in search of some fiction, leaving his mess for now.
Hard in Hightown 3: The Re-Punchening sounded like some particularly delightful literary schlock. He returned to his spot, lit the tobacco in the bowl of his kiseru, and sat back, prepared to be thoroughly entertained.
C. Curiosity Killed The Cat
Skyhold was a curiosity in and of itself, and the Medicine Seller could hardly refrain from exploring the grounds. It wasn’t often one got the opportunity to poke around a fortress, and while there was work ahead of him here, he was rather nosy.
The ramparts offered quite a view of the chilly Frostbacks. The great hall was aptly named, altogether rather grand with its high ceilings and the imposing throne. The stables held a wide variety of peculiar animals. The gardens had all manner of botanical goodies. The place was absolutely huge and, if rumour was to be believed, quite a windfall for the Inquisition in its budding stages.
Such things were very interesting to the Medicine Seller. He’d move on once he was able to play by this world’s rules and pass through society without too much in ways of questions, but this was certainly ideal for the time being.
D. Wildcard!
Is the Medicine Man eavesdropping on your business? Did you spot him petting a good cat or talking to his weird sword? Did he sell you some faulty medicine? Anything goes!
no subject
But business was business, and for all his strange attributes, the Medicine Seller still needed to eat.
It had taken him a little while to estimate his prices, but he was fairly sure he'd worked them out.
"A silver coin for the salve," he said. "And another silver coin for all the rest."
He paused, tapping his chin in thought.
"...Or three days of meals, if you prefer."
Or anything equivelant. He wasn't fussy as long as there was some exchange.
no subject
He slid one silver coin across to the seller, tucking away his medicines. "How about the silver coin and one and a half days of meals?" he bargained. "I'm sure we can find you something you like, though I bet the food here is pretty different from what you're used to in your world."
The words came casually, but he gave the medicine seller a significant look at the same time - no, those words had not been chosen by accident.
no subject
"Not at all. Western cuisine has become popular these days so I am used to it."
It was a bit heavier, with a lot more red meat and poultry than he was used to, but outside of that, most people had exquisite traditions of throwing ingredients together and hoping for the best. The only real differences were what they had to work with.
Not that he wouldn't give a great deal for some aburaage, but that didn't seem a prospect for the near future.
"I humbly accept so gracious an offer."
no subject
Kirk had lived on lighter fare, his Earth being different from the one the medicine seller knew no doubt. A lot changed after the human race had nearly gotten itself annihilated after all. And then space. And now he was in a medieval world with questionable food sources, but what could you do right?
"Did you just get here?" Kirk asked, securing his purse. "To Skyhold, I mean. It took me a week after I got dumped here to be lead to this place."
no subject
It had been a bit of a trek but certainly not a week's worth of travel. And the Medicine Seller was well used to wandering about on foot.
"I thought it best to acquaint myself with the customs of this world before selling my wares. I take it you are rather more familiar with such matters."
no subject
"I've been here almost a year now, so a bit more familiar," he gave a half-shrug. "I know quite a few of the regular sellers here, run errands for them, do some day labor, or act as a courier for some coin. I can do the same for you, if you like, when you need it." He patted the place he had put the medicines the man had just made for him. "I think you will do just fine though. You at least have a marketable skill in this day and age."
no subject
Unless Kirk came from a place where there was no such thing as disease, which would be rather intriguing.
"I will consider such an offer. Though I prefer to speak with my customers directly."
For a number of reasons, really. Medicine selling may have just been a form of social engineering, a means to an end, but he still took his work seriously. If someone needed their dosages adjusted, he liked to be able to suss out such details.
"But it is always nice to know what is going on."
He thrived on hearing gossip, after all.
no subject
There was still disease in his world, just not the same ones. Germs and parasites, especially when brought in from other worlds, had a way of adapting in a tenacious and very annoying way.
Kirk's mouth twitched, recognizing the question for what it was. "There's a lot to catch up on, if you just got here. Politics are a fascinating thing in Thedas, especially Orlais, and the Inquisition's position is... unique." A gentle prodding to learn what the medicine seller knew so he didn't waste time and breath.
no subject
Politics could be fascinating in a distant sort of way. But he was a merchant, a pretty far step from a courtier in any culture, he was sure, and was likely to be in the presence of any kings or queens.
"Something more local is preferred."
After all, he'd be staying among the Inquisition for the foreseeable future. He needed something to entertain himself.
no subject
Kirk pursed his lips, thinking. "You've seen the refugee camp, right? They could use help, no doubt. Might not be immediately profitable, but it'll earn you a good reputation and that's always good for business. There's missions going in and out all the time through the Inquisition." He patted the little satchel the man had just given him. "Good medicine that works will be greatly appreciated."
Was that helpful?
no subject
"Profit does not always come in the form of coin," he mused aloud. Not that he cared too much about money. Enough to replenish his stock and keep him fed had always been enough.
"Nor do I need to be the one benefiting."
He contemplated what else Kirk had said, letting his silence drag on a bit.
"It seems odd however that this organization would entrust those from another world with missions."
no subject
Kirk shrugged. "They need people, and many of us come with skills and knowledge they don't have, or that they need. Not to mention the shards we have are capable of closing things known as Rifts. Besides, if you were them, would you really want a bunch of strangers being dumped through Rifts wandering around doing who knows what with that kind of power in our hands? Better to keep us where they can see us, and out of the hands of their enemies."
It was a harsh analysis, but he thought a true one, he thought.
no subject
"Indeed, I do not think they like the idea of any from the rifts wandering around at all."
Still, he wasn't entirely unsympathetic to the refugees.
"...But I will see to speaking with the healers about my wares. They would be in better hands."
He smiled his cold little smile.
"After all, I am a merchant, not a doctor."
no subject