faderift | OPEN LOG: Establishing a Base in Kirkwall

WHO: Many People
WHAT: Cleaning up Kirkwall
WHEN: Cloudreach 1-21
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: This log post is for characters who go early to Kirkwall to assist in preparing it for the rest of those assigned there. We strongly encourage IC discussion of things left to character discretion—someone should definitely do a crystal post to discuss what to do with the personal belongings left behind in the Gallows or what new form the statues should take!

Kirkwall once lived on the edge of the Tevinter Imperium and was home to nearly a million slaves. Stolen from elven lands or shipped from across the sea, all slaves fed the Imperium's unquenchable thirst for expansion. They worked in massive quarries and sweltering foundries that produced stone and steel for the Empire.

The city's complicated past is not easy to forget, history having earmarked many corners of the stone city. A ship approaching the harbor spots the city's namesake: an imposing black wall. It is visible for miles, and carved into the cliff side are a pantheon of vile guardians representing the Old Gods. Over the years, the Chantry has effaced many of these profane sentinels, but it will take many more years to erase them all.

Also carved into the cliff is a channel that permits ships into the city's interior. Flanking the channel are two massive bronze statues—the Twins of Kirkwall. The statues have a practical use. Kirkwall sits next to the narrowest point of the Waking Sea, and a massive chain net can be erected between the statues and the lighthouse, closing off the only narrow navigable lane. This stranglehold on sea traffic is jealously guarded by the ever-changing rulers of the city as the net trolls taxes, tolls, and extortions in from the sea.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

Establishing a presence in Kirkwall is a delicate matter. First, there's Provisional Viscount Bran Cavin—a man so used to batting back friendly offers of entirely harmless occupation of the battered city-state that his first three responses to the Inquisition's leadership appeared to be slightly personalized form letters. Proving that the Inquisition is here to work and not to conquer will be a process. The first step in that process is the second reason the move is delicate: the only building the Provisional Viscount is willing to part with is the Gallows, left quarantined and unoccupied since Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard's famous crystallization into red lyrium in the courtyard. The Gallows have since overgrown with red lyrium. If anyone is going to live and work there, there's a lot of work to do.

↠ Cloudreach 1-3: The Journey There
↠ Cloudreach 3-4: Arrival
↠ Cloudreach 4-14: Haunted
↠ Cloudreach 14-21: Spring Cleaning

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Of course James had gone with Pel, because Pel was over eight months pregnant and about to burst. He was worried, and like any man who is around a pregnant woman and is worried? He fussed. For two days.

"Here, drink this. One of the healers said it should help with the nausea. She's passing them around." He stated, bringing her another draught, and some more water, along with cloths to dab at her forehead as well.

"Get any sleep?"

blrgh

"Not really," she mumbles, sitting up enough to sip at the anti-nausea stuff. Swallowing is hard, but she knows she needs fluids, and maybe this will be worth it. "At least she's too big to--" a graceless belch "--do somersaults anymore."

And then Pel, very gracefully and with great composure, flops over a bucket and dry heaves three times.

James sighed as he settled next to her, waiting for her to finish dry heaving, before he put a wet cloth on her forehead. He makes sure that the blanket folded up underneath is good for her head.

"We'll be there soon." He promises, for what seems like the tenth time. "Are you sure you don't want me to see if we can get you up on deck?"

Oh, that cool cloth feels amazing. Her eyes drift shut.

"I can't walk. And I don't think I can fit into a hammock. Not unless you cut a hole in one and I could lie on my front."

Her eyes barely open for a moment, considering. Hammocks can always be mended, can't they? Her eyes shut again.

He makes sure the cloth stays on her forehead, and when she looks up, considering, she'll find the same expression on his face. They could ...

"No, what if you fell? That could hurt you and the child."

Regret, deep there.

"James." She is haggard, exhausted, and pretty much feels like she is going to die. "Breathe."

Elgar'nan, she is going to have to be the one carrying him pretty soon.

"Just find me a hammock. Don't cut it. Maybe I'll feel the rocking of the ship less in something gravity is pulling in one direction."

And she'll be able to breathe without this hovering.

"I am breathing." Mostly. He gives her a dry look before he goes to rise and leave her to find a hammock.

He knows he's ... hovering. He cannot help it. A pregnant woman, an unborn child? Even more so - someone who is dear to him? Every protective instinct in his body is on tense strings right now. It is not helping that they are bringing this new life to Kirkwall, of all places ...

Either way, he's back about twenty minutes later, with said hammock. He sets it up, then eyes her. "Probably easiest if I just pick you up altogether."

By the time he returns, she has cooled down, and feels guilty for being cross. He's being supportive. He's tending to her needs. And that's the sort of thing she always resists, the idea that sometimes she needs other people. It makes her dreadfully uncomfortable, even as she tries to get closer to people. Little Sina needs a network of support, and so does Pel.

She opens her arms to him, bracing herself.

He's surprised, and it shows on his face. He rather expected her to give him a Look and say she can do it on his own. One corner of his mouth twists, and he leans down to let her wrap her arms around his neck, before he scoops her up gently but firmly.

He makes a soft grunting noise, eying her, "How is it that you are this far pregnant and still weigh as much as my mabari?" He gently slipped her into the hammock, making sure to hold it steady.

She eases onto her side, the upward slope of the side of the hammock taking some pressure off her belly. One hand reaches out to take his, and her eyes close.

"This is better," she mumbles. "A baby doesn't weigh very much, unless she's headbutting your bladder."

Yes, this is more like it. The hammock sways, of course, but the number of directions it can go in is limited. It feels more like being rocked. She is suddenly very drowsy, having slept almost not at all.

Edited 2017-04-06 20:59 (UTC)

He is surprised, when she takes his hand, but his fingers curl around hers and hold on. Squeeze, tight. She is not alone.

"Rather like Interceptor in that regard, then."

He looks down at her, his voice quieting, "Try to get some sleep, please?"

OPEN LOG: Establishing a Base in Kirkwall

Because uncle Jamie is good uncle.

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