Eyes black, big paws and

[arcaneadvisor]

WHO: Morrigan, open
WHAT: Witching around
WHEN: Drakonis; present timeline
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: If you'd like a specific starter, grab me on discord. Starters in threads as per usual.

Comments

i; eluvians

[arcaneadvisor]

From a door seldom used by any in Skyhold that opens out onto the gardens, Morrigan can be seen emerging more than a few times. And if she isn't spotted slipping out of said door (locked, solid oak, witchy spells all placed upon it as Sabine had supposed near a year past) then there are more than a few places around Skyhold where Morrigan might be found sketching out what look to be mirrors. Large mirrors. Notes in the margins relating to Venatori, Red Templars (fewer of those but still there) and to Corypheus.

At times it seems to swallow her; you might need to call her name more than once to actually get her attention away from the work if she's working on the notes. Or deal with more than a little suspicion if you happen to find her by the door. Woe betide you if she catches you by the door for no good reason.

[meds4sale]

The Medicine Seller had a habit of turning up in unusual places quite unexpectedly, whether he was wanted there or not. This case was no different from any of the others.

By his nature, he was more sensitive to what one might call unusual things. The presence of wards piqued his interest first, but there was something else beyond that, something that resonated at the back of his throat and at the tips of his ears but he could not pinpoint what it was. Alien, like so many things in this world.

And that is why he stood outside the oak door, head tilted upwards like some animal that had caught wind of a faint and strange scent. Aside from the occasional soldier, scout or sister that pushed past, he was quite still, with only the slightest turn of his head or occasional furrowing of the brow to distinguish him from a statue.

[arcaneadvisor]

"Might I assist you?"

Morrigan's voice carries from a few feet away, not loud but sharp, the briefest of hesitations before assist to settle on just the right word. Where before she had been what passed for friendly for most people she holds herself straighter though she holds the key. She knows she set the wards once again.

The eluvian remains secure as it can be while Corypheus stalks Thedas.

"Are you searching for something perhaps?"

[meds4sale]

He glanced over his shoulder to give only a brief nod.

"Something is... odd."

His head turned away again, this time to glance down at something in his hand. He was still, observing whatever it was he held.

"...Resonating but immeasurable."

He said it more to himself than Morrigan, though there was a muffled chime as though someone had dropped a pair of bells into his palm. This got only an exhale from him before he slipped whatever it was he was holding into his sleeves. Whatever it was, it wasn't anything his tools would pick up.

[arcaneadvisor]

Not so reassuring an answer as she might hope for. The eluvian has been within these walls near a year now. There are those who have had to travel through it to rescue another so information on them is not kept so close as Morrigan might prefer; a new arrival hearing of them? She cannot rule it.

She does not need to confirm it so soon.

"Skyhold is a site holy to the ancient elves, to give it its proper name name, Tarasyl'an Te'las. It has drunk deep of magic, the very stones themselves are filled with it, protecting it from darkness. The arrival of so many such as you, I wonder what it awakens within it." A very brief passing wonder compared to other more urgent and relevant matters but not something to be dismissed outright. Not if you know your history the way she does.

(The way she thinks she does.)

"Does it bother you so?"

[in_death_sacrifice]

Kain does notice Morrigan coming and going, but it's not something he thinks much of, whenever he happens to be passing by the area. But when he notices her at some other point in the garden sketching, he can't help but be curious... especially when he sees what she's working on. It was only a few months back that they'd gone on that trip to Serault and dealt with all of that, after all.

"Nice mirror... Have you gotten any further 'invitations' to visit any glassworks lately?"

[arcaneadvisor]

Ah yes, the near-disastrous mission in Serault that somehow hadn't exploded in their faces given everyone involved in it at the time. And the Venatori. And the Red Templars. She fixes Kain with a look when she pauses in her work, mouth pursed for a moment before she sighs.

"Would it surprise you to know that I have? A token of gratitude. Naturally the Inquisition may do with it what they will, I have even less desire to return there than I did previously." The gushing tones of the letter had left her in no doubt that this is for some sort of party she has no desire to attend but if people want to experience the charm of Serault, they can go on her behalf. "Eager to return are we Warden? You might find bandits or pirates without Venatori or Red Templars on the way."

[in_death_sacrifice]

"Not as eager as you might think. To return, that is. Now, to go and fight more Venatori or Red Templars... I'll gladly go anywhere I have to for that." There's just something all too satisfying about slicing his sword through one of those freakishly twisted warriors. "But good, I'm glad they showed their appreciation, anyway, after all that we had to face..." He sighs, though, taking a stray glance at what she's drawing. "So then I take it you're not planning to commission one of these mirrors from them?"

[arcaneadvisor]

After the Winter Palace, Morrigan has had her fill of Red Templars for the moment. Seeing them crashing through the walls when she and Alan were without their staff, a bleeding noblewoman between them then Alan with a shard of red in his hand? Memories likely to be tucked close to those of the Blight. "Mourning that this is not a true Blight then Warden?" True, she never knew so many of them but sometimes she wonders at the mood.

All of them in the one camp, so little to truly fight compared to the norm? Some must seek out new foes to unleash themselves upon instead of darkspawn.

"I did not commission work from them." It's haughty, offended. Her throat ruined from the forging of the eluvian in the smoke and heat, one chance that would have slipped through her fingers had all gone wrong. "The forging there was done by my own hand, I am no Circle mage, ignorant of how to accomplish anything besides bleating and wringing my hands."

ii; don't answer her, she looks chasind

[arcaneadvisor]

A successful hunt with Rachette and a bargain struck leaves Morrigan with supplies she hasn't exactly been hurting for but she'd wanted all the same. As she had explained at the time, bone has far more uses than many in a village or a town would ever know, something she'd learned the value of as a girl in the Wilds. Some she has kept aside for another but wherever she might find a quiet spot she carves.

Fastenings for her clothing and Kieran's as well as what might be jewellery.

Then again it's Morrigan, spotting her sat somewhere at odd hours with a blade and a pile of bones in her lap is most likely going to be draw your own conclusions hour, she'll probably play along if they're not entirely offensive.

iii; magic thrives on use

[arcaneadvisor]

Lightning sparks and crackles in Morrigan's hands in the sparring ring, the cloth of the training dummy beginning to curl and burn, which is-- Well, one of the last places one might expect to see Morrigan really given that she didn't actually come to the Inquisition to fight. Liason to the Inquisition. Arcane advisor to the Inquisition. Not throwing herself back into the thick of it and yet each time she has left Skyhold for any reason, even to the Winter Palace? Battle.

So perhaps getting in some practice would behoove her.

Lightning, ice, entropy, those are her skills since shapeshifting is something she'll always know and if she suddenly erupts into a giant spider, a bear, or a stinging swarm then she can easily imagine the outcome of that. Any are welcome, if they dare given the many many rumours that buzz about her.

[amygdalae]

A mage Bruce may be, magic is still something he doesn't like being too close too, for many reasons best left unsaid. Even if he was an agent now, it doesn't exactly change his stance of magic using - only when required, and nothing more.

Still, that doesn't mean he can't appreciate the magic of others - Morrigan's in this case, as she's the one currently zapping training dummies in the ring. Though he may be an apostate years of curiosity doesn't go away so easily; Bruce finds himself watching the way Morrigan fires her spells from the sidelines, and after a bit takes out his journal to start writing down notes while she practices.

Don't mind him, Morrigan, he'll be out of your hair quickly enough if you don't notice him.

[arcaneadvisor]

The one downside to training dummies; near half her spells are pointless to practice on them. A dummy isn't a living being after all so why should she even bother with those spells that twist order and disorder upon itself, confusion and vulnerability. More's the pity since those are spells she holds so very dear to her heart. Not flashy light shows like the lightning she summons between both hands above her head to rain down upon something she might be imagining to look like certain chevaliers and baronesses but subtle elegant things.

Spells that tricked many a foe into being unable to attack. Into wandering off down the wrong path when following a girl then a young woman through the Wilds if ever she were found.

Breathing hard after the burst of her spell rattles the centre dummy hard enough that the head cracks, lists lazily to the side and the others groan worryingly in protest she turns just so. Brow arched, tries to force herself to sound natural. Less out of breath. Less like she's sweaty because Witches of the Wild do not sweat like normal mortal beings.

"Am I so very fascinating? Surely you have seen such spells before?"

[amygdalae]

Ah, she noticed him.

...not like it was any real loss, but still. Bruce knows it is a little weird with how he looked right now, and looks adequately sheepish as he gives her an apologetic smile.

"Yes, but not in the fashion you cast them." Every Circle had their ways and means but Morrigan was very decidedly not one of the Circles, nor even one of the Dalish for that matter, for even they had their particular brand of casting. Morrigan, however, had very much her own, and it had always intrigued Bruce to a degree - the old scholar in him that never really died out even after he fled the Circles.

Still, the last thing he wanted was to distract Morrigan from her training. "If I'm in the way, I'll gladly take my leave. I don't want to trouble you."

[arcaneadvisor]

Before, those hazy days with their bruised ever-darkening skies, Morrigan would have put words in his mouth that would all have come from Wynne. Even now in so many ways it's impossible to divorce Wynne from the Circle, from all of what a Circle mage should be from their talks as sharp as Morrigan could be throughout them all, some old woman sticking her nose in where it wasn't wanted. Magic to be cleaned up or kept in some forbidden restricted volume, much like a grimoire given to her as a key in a lock.

Bruce is not Wynne, the Circles have cracked and crumbled, and Morrigan has grown.

The staff comes down in a move to clear ambient magic as she considers it with a grim little smile. "My first experience of a Circle contained far more demons and abominations present than I understood to be permitted within such strict oversight. Twas my mother who taught me."

Mana restored, she ices one dummy, watches it trail down over the head and 'arms' and to the ground. The lightning shatters the ice to pieces. "Unless you mean to stand in the way of a spell, you are not a problem."

iv; I have smelled it as a wolf, listened as a cat

[arcaneadvisor]

As winter leaves the mountain and valley below, more and more of what Morrigan might have a need of become available to her; mushrooms, early berries, bulbs and roots that won't numb her fingers to the bone when she must dig for them, those sorts of things. Of course she has the advantage away from the valley where people might be alarmed and come after her with swords and arrows to turn into something with strong paws and stronger claws to do some of the digging.

Who knows when you might need a particular ingredient for a particular reason after all?

Seemingly immune to the chill in the air because a daughter of Flemeth is made of stronger stuff than normal folk, Morrigan is not averse to company. If you recognise her. Though in any form, the uncanny stare tends to give her away.

[alankazam]

He smells like smoke and sweat and the press of humanity, an early warning; it’s no true wolf that bounds to the edge of the clearing, holds itself at once alert.

A moment, nostrils flaring, to recognize her. His tail drops low, begins to wag, and a moment later there's a skinny young man in its place, hands shoved deep in his pockets (because his blood is perfectly normal, and his fingers quite capable of freezing).

"Hello again," Alan smiles, a slight, distant thing. "It's been a while."

and that's how he was mauled by an ordinary bear and i had to drop the game

[arcaneadvisor]

Not often is Morrigan surprised but there was a time when she had been sure she had a proper accounting of the shapeshifters contained within Skyhold. Perhaps because she's taught some or given advice.

It comes back to her in the moments before her magic ripples around her and she stares as openly as she pleases for a heartbeat, then--

"No worse for wear after Halamshiral? Red lyrium is not a thing I have heard highly recommended." It's her own way of asking if he's actually okay, long after the fact but it's the very belated thought that counts after all.

[alankazam]

One palm creeps out briefly to display its new seam of scar.

"I don’t think I’d do it again," If it’s a joke, it sounds rather like he’s given the matter serious thought. "But I'm fine now. And you?"

His brows push briefly inward to watch her. There are — portions of the night he doesn’t quite remember. The rest? He hasn’t forgotten her alarm, when that thing pushed into the hall. Nor how capably she handled it.

[arcaneadvisor]

No sign of anything red and terrible, then again how long it takes for the corruption in a Warden to work towards the surface finally. (Morrigan why are you like this.)

"I imagine I am not alone in saying I would prefer if you did not. Courtly intrigues are ghastly enough without complications." To think she didn't even get to take out a single chevalier and claim them as collateral damage that night, a wicked waste if ever there was one. Still, there's always the Exalted Plains and Emerald Graves, even the cynics are allowed a moment to hope. "Better for all that being behind us. I have had entirely enough of Red Templars though whenever I have had dealings with them, they have been arm-in-arm with the Venatori."

In truth, she had been waiting for that. For the enchanters to appear with a spell unnoticed under their feet. For a gladiator to come to close them in from the opposite end. They've both had such a fascination with mirrors.

v; wildcard

[arcaneadvisor]

[Ah yes, the wildcard. Pick your poison if you want something different and I'll roll with it!]

morrigan + gwenaëlle; closed

[arcaneadvisor]

Gwenaëlle being one of her very favourite people in Skyhold, it's been far too long since Morrigan had the time to catch up with her properly though given the Winter Palace and the subsequent fallout, as well as the arrival of Gwenaëlle's grandfather, it could be forgiven.

An invitation is sent by raven to wherever the young woman might be found, written in Morrigan's hand:

Gwenaëlle,

I have missed our talks together, whenever you might spare the time, my door will always be open.

Morrigan

Wine and tea are both at the ready. You never know what you'll need more in Skyhold.

[elegiaque]

You never do.

Gwenaëlle does not require a second prompting; it isn't long until she appears in aforementioned doorway, inkstained fingers curled at the door's edge, the hair not pulled back from her face hanging down in a curtain over her shoulder when she peers through like an illustration in a children's story.

"I've missed you, too," is what she gives in lieu of a greeting, picking up neatly the thread of conversation as if Morrigan had only now spoken, and not written it to her earlier in the day. As withdrawn as she's been since her mother's death, slowly but surely she's been clawing her way back to the new normalcy; working on her writing, beginning to pay attention again to what goes on around her.

And presenting herself here, only a little shamefaced for her neglect.

[arcaneadvisor]

Many things can be forgiven; not a lesson that ever came easily to Morrigan (still a work in progress in areas) and she understands, has been absent from Skyhold herself and swallowed by work then swallowed by it whenever she'd returned. She hasn't wanted to push. Not after something was spilled into her hands, into her lap, an even more violent reassessment of how did this girl survive this world.

She is more proud.

(Her teeth are bared quicker.)

"I trust you have been busy? The arrival of family can be...something of an upheaval, I am given to understand." From overhearing Orlesians talk, she can't exactly speak for her own experience. "Though after your most recent work, a rest would certainly have been earned, twas no small work."

[elegiaque]

"My grandfather is, I think, biding his time to talk about that." Her most recent work, that is; shots fired and much less obliquely than the time she'd so pointedly not distinguished Vivienne from her compatriots on the Council of Mages or whatever it is they call themselves, whoever it is they all are now as some come, some go, and the Dalish seem interchangeable. "I don't imagine it's going to be a terribly thrilling conversation."

But she sounds less resentful than she might - the question of her grandfather is a complicated one, what with how related to her he isn't, but his affection for her has always been apparent. She doesn't relish the prospect of being spoken to like a silly little girl who oughtn't take such notions into her head, but she is at least comfortable knowing it comes from a place of concern for her safety, and she isn't immune to enjoying a small reminder that her safety matters to someone.

She just prefers it from Morrigan, on the whole. Romain might surprise her - but it would be a surprise. Morrigan's pride is something she feels she can strive for; that she should always be striving for, never resting upon what came before. It asks more of her, and yet she feels more equal to the task.

Maybe that's growing up.