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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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
[Ah yes, the wildcard. Pick your poison if you want something different and I'll roll with it!]
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.
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.
Edited 2017-03-04 06:49 (UTC)
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
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."
Edited 2017-03-04 21:28 (UTC)
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.
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.
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."
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."
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.
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.
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.
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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.
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?"
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?"
"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?"
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?"
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.
"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.
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."
...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."
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?"
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?"
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."
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."
"We're lucky they weren't." Except, he's been thinking about that: "But it'd be a good distraction, if they were up to something else."
Alan shrugs a little in place. He hasn't exactly gotten further than that line of thought, that vague unease.
"I wanted to thank you," And if that's not quite so rare of late as it was upon his arrival, he means it no less. "You got us all out."
Easy enough to have just taken off alone.
Alan shrugs a little in place. He hasn't exactly gotten further than that line of thought, that vague unease.
"I wanted to thank you," And if that's not quite so rare of late as it was upon his arrival, he means it no less. "You got us all out."
Easy enough to have just taken off alone.
There was a long silence from the Medicine Seller as he stood there contemplating.
He had gotten a feel for the background noise that was the strange flow of power through the very walls. If he were to put it into words, it was like the difference between walking through a crowded street and standing on the edge of a whirlwind. The movement of the air was just... different.
Not that he bothered to vocalize any of this.
"...No."
Very astute.
"Tarsyl'an Ta'las," he repeated, trying not to butcher the word too badly. "Do you know more of this place when it was called that?"
He had gotten a feel for the background noise that was the strange flow of power through the very walls. If he were to put it into words, it was like the difference between walking through a crowded street and standing on the edge of a whirlwind. The movement of the air was just... different.
Not that he bothered to vocalize any of this.
"...No."
Very astute.
"Tarsyl'an Ta'las," he repeated, trying not to butcher the word too badly. "Do you know more of this place when it was called that?"
"I had heard nothing of these Freemen," she admits, grudgingly. Even if it's a topic that isn't hers to know about there's just something that doesn't sit right with her to admit to the not-knowing. "They are those with minds left to think, Tevinter cunning and knowledge, more than that for their mages. Have you encountered them at all? With the Inquisition? Making your way to Skyhold?"
How much worse might it have been had they a third party to entertain? Celene dead? Gaspard on the throne? Or everyone dead. What does the world look like if Orlais is suddenly in the same position as the Chantry, leaderless, scrapping and squabbling but with actual military might and treaties.
Better to be taken aback at what he's said when she takes that moment to hear it. "You fought as well as I, had the red lyrium pierced my flesh I would have fallen just the same." Of that she is under no illusion, and she isn't good with this sort of thanks. "Twas tempting to leave her though to have an Orlesian noblewoman indebted and grateful has its uses, if you learn when and when not to listen to their talk. One in every ten words tends to suffice."
(Handy tips for the Orlesian merchants that pop up around Skyhold too.)
How much worse might it have been had they a third party to entertain? Celene dead? Gaspard on the throne? Or everyone dead. What does the world look like if Orlais is suddenly in the same position as the Chantry, leaderless, scrapping and squabbling but with actual military might and treaties.
Better to be taken aback at what he's said when she takes that moment to hear it. "You fought as well as I, had the red lyrium pierced my flesh I would have fallen just the same." Of that she is under no illusion, and she isn't good with this sort of thanks. "Twas tempting to leave her though to have an Orlesian noblewoman indebted and grateful has its uses, if you learn when and when not to listen to their talk. One in every ten words tends to suffice."
(Handy tips for the Orlesian merchants that pop up around Skyhold too.)
"Tis a fortress that has changed hands many a time though first it belonged to the elves, built upon the site of magical rituals. From here they reached up to the heavens to bring them down to rest." Approaching the door, she sets her palm upon it because she has worked so hard for this eluvian, has nearly had it slip through her fingers in getting it here--
The wards are still there, she can feel them when she sets her palm upon the wood, spells she placed upon them months ago and renews as often as she deems necessary.
"So it is said. There is little to remember the ancient elves by, only mere fragments of what once was, what they had created. That and a language that is insufferably vague and poetic. The ancient elves abandoned it, the humans that came after abandoned it. Now the Inquisition claims it to keep us and all our works safe from the enemy."
The wards are still there, she can feel them when she sets her palm upon the wood, spells she placed upon them months ago and renews as often as she deems necessary.
"So it is said. There is little to remember the ancient elves by, only mere fragments of what once was, what they had created. That and a language that is insufferably vague and poetic. The ancient elves abandoned it, the humans that came after abandoned it. Now the Inquisition claims it to keep us and all our works safe from the enemy."
"How does one bring down the heavens, I wonder?"
It was such a strange thing to imagine. Who would want to bring down the heavens? The sky stayed up.
His gaze followed Morrigan as she inspected the door. Perhaps if she was worried about the wards, she knew what lay beyond.
"I did not tamper with the wards, if that is what you are worried about."
He was nosy, not stupid. If wards were there, they were likely there for a good reason, and he wasn't about to set some unknown terror on a fortress to sate his curiosity just because he got a weird feeling walking past a door.
It was such a strange thing to imagine. Who would want to bring down the heavens? The sky stayed up.
His gaze followed Morrigan as she inspected the door. Perhaps if she was worried about the wards, she knew what lay beyond.
"I did not tamper with the wards, if that is what you are worried about."
He was nosy, not stupid. If wards were there, they were likely there for a good reason, and he wasn't about to set some unknown terror on a fortress to sate his curiosity just because he got a weird feeling walking past a door.
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