faderift | In the turning of the seasons, in life and death

WHO: Church, Malcolm, Rachette, YOU
WHAT: Present timeline catch-all
WHEN: Guardian /wiggly hand
WHERE: Up down all around Skyhold
NOTES: Nab me on plurk if you want a specific starter

Church is starting to spend a lot more time in the tavern than he ever did before. Sometimes he's just hanging around, taking some notes. Sometimes he's cleaning up tables with a rag. Sometimes you can actually see him in the back doing what may or may not be actual work. Crazy! He's also spending quite a bit of time around the stables, trying really hard not to look intimidated by the steeds, learning to put on saddles, and you may even see him up on one. This is madness. This is Skyhold.

Rachette does a lot of training, whether it's with her blades, doing her best to cut up a dummy, or doing sick backflips off walls or generally trying to get her parkour on, or at a table with a bunch of scrap fiddling with traps. She's also fond of going out hunting. You can perhaps find her debating with a merchant about the price of turning a rabbit pelt into a pair of gloves or a nice hat. She sometimes hangs nearby classes without trying to look like she's actually sitting in. Learning but not like...being a nerd okay shut up who likes learning not her.

Malcolm hovers around the healer tents more than he ever usually does, either visiting those injured or getting injuries checked up on. He also seems to be making a point of starting to see if there's anything he can do to help despite not being a healer. His training has more to do with keeping the skills he does have sharp, whether through archery (where he has an interesting new bow that hasn't made an appearance yet), or working out, or sparring. He's willing to give advice to people that seek it. And as ever, there's always some point where he can be seen around the kennels or otherwise being with is poodle companion Milady, playing, training, being at least mildly adorable.

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Becoming a decent person right before his eyes, we're all proud of you. Malcolm is actually surprised to see Corvo--perhaps he shouldn't be, but after the Palace fight, he didn't expect to see the magically-inclined fighter again, much less have him check up on him.

"Not badly," he says with a mild flex of his arm. "Cade had it much worse. And I assure you, I've also had worse." Yeah, but 'getting stabbed with a bunch of arrows and also stabbed in the ribs and fuck knows what else' is still pretty bad to a lot of people.

"But yes, I seem to be making a fair recovery." A smirk tugs his face. "I seem to have something of luck for that. I get ill at the drop of a hat, but injuries?" He waves a dismissive hand.

"Cade, that was the blond man, right?" The one that Corvo had HEROICALLY SAVED or just. Gave a potion he found off a dead guy. For a moment, he distracts himself by looking around the healing tents for that tuft of blond curly hair, but decides that can wait. "I'll check on him later, but I saw you walking in here." A pause. Did that sound inconsiderate? "--But I wanted to make sure you were doing well, anyway."

Corvo only offers a little shrug at 'had it worse'. "I've had worse, too. Doesn't make getting stabbed in the ribs fun. And sometimes wounds aren't as bad as you realize, until the healers get in and look. Blood poisoning, things like that." It's a cheery thought, but gangrene, infections, blood poisoning--it'll kill a man as surely as a knife in the ribs. But. That's obviously not the case here.

"...Anyway. I'm glad you're alright. The Inquisition would suffer if they lost such a skilled fighter."

It didn't sound inconsiderate, it sounded...very slightly stalker-y but also kind of sweet? Though, if Corvo had gotten injured in the fight, he would've made a point to check on him, too.

"Yes, well." Super cheery! "I'm to periodically return here to get checked over, and should I feel under the weather, it will also be my first stop." Probably. He hates getting ill so easily and hates more to bother people with his own health. "At least the last time someone went for under my ribs, they only sliced open my shirt. A few more scars for the collection will hardly kill me."

Yes but a few knives to the gut will.

"You've fared well yourself, I take it? In the aftermath of it all. I remember none of those ruffians in the hall could even lay a finger on you for how you flitted about."

Corvo nods at the reassurance that Malcolm wasn't about to keel over dead or anything. There's a pause, and then he manages a faint smile. "You get people trying to stab you in the ribs often enough to keep score? I suppose you could start rating them on consideration to your body, and whatnot." It's a joke!! One whole joke.

"Still--a scar might not kill you, but it doesn't take much for a wound to, if you don't get it treated. I'm glad you're making sure to prevent that."

A shrug is offered in response to his own abilities, and he pulls one of his sleeves up to his elbow. "I did what I could, but I didn't get away entirely unscathed. Though--I was fortunate." 'Not entirely unscathed' was a couple of shallow scratches, already half-healed. Nothing that had needed anything beyond a salve and some bandages. He shakes his head, slightly sheepish at his own good luck, as he rolls his sleeve back down. "I have a couple more of those, on my torso and whatnot. But still. I think that the soldiers just weren't expecting someone to be able to use a sword and magic."

He pauses a moment, then gives a breathy, quiet laugh. "Back home, people would say I had the Outsider's luck. But he wasn't there that night. It's...funny, how that works."

Corvo! Can joke! Get those smelling salts at the ready, folks. "One can only begin to hope to leave behind a pretty corpse when they die. Maker knows, with my luck, there won't be much to recognize me by whenever I go out." Is it weird to make a joke like that? It's not to him, but his brand of humour can be very dark.

Malcolm nods, appreciation at the small wounds and what he did to get them. "My leather was enough to keep arrowheads from getting stuck all the way into my arm, though not enough to keep them from biting all the same. You're very skilled in both, though, the sword and the magic. Most mages only bother with magic and not with a weapon save for their staff."

In some ways, there are other forms of magic that are not called such. Seeker and Templar abilities are gifts, but magic, no, no one would ever call it that. Malcolm's gallows humour smile quirks up further. "The Outsider's luck? He has some uncanny magical skills on his side, but luck, I wouldn't go so far as that. So you two...come from the same world, then. I imagine he was even stranger there."

In the turning of the seasons, in life and death

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