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

"I just wouldn't want to disappoint anyone. I take time on my craft, certainly, but I've never sold any of it. I've only done it for friends and for my lord husband," Sansa says demurely. She tips her head down a bit, tries to play the maiden for a little while and she hopes it's the reaction that Tyrion wants; he seems to be running some sort of game and she's come into the middle of it.

"It's nothing like Orlais, after all."

"Naturally, which is why it is so unique, my darling." He kisses her hand, and yes, the Orlesian is practically slathering, "So you see, it is quite impossible - "

"But she must design clothes for me!" Mention unique to an Orlesian and of course they have to have it. "Me, and no one else."

"Oh - oh well, I am sure my lady wife would be pleased to sew you a few shirts, my lord ... but we don't have the materials, or a place for her to be able to sew ... " Tyrion trailed off as the Orlesian interrupted him.

"I can provide the materials, and a place for the two of you! What say you, my lady? Would you be my personal seamstress?"

"If it pleases my lord," Sansa says. She pauses for a moment, careful with her next words. "And only if you allow my lord husband to manage the accounts. I don't have a head for numbers at all and I would prefer that he handle my business dealings and let me stick to sewing. Is that acceptable?"

She looks to Tyrion, seemingly seeking his approval for this deal.

"Why, yes, and how pleasant it is to find a young lady who knows it is only proper for a man to handle the money." The Orlesian lord gave a little nod while Tyrion rolled his eyes behind his back, before putting on a congenial smile.

"Of course, of course, my dear ... and I know you can't take up your sewing until we find you a nice, safe spot to lay your head." He patted Sansa's hand comfortingly. "Although I am sure your new patron must know of some reasonable little cottages about?"

"Oh yes, absolutely - stay out of Darktown, and the Docks, naturally. I think I can find you a fairly decent place on the way to Hightown ..." The Orlesian muttered, rubbing his bearded chin behind his mask.

"It wouldn't need to be much. We're a small family, my husband and I, and I don't need much room to do my sewing. I just am new here and know so little about Kirkwall. I would like to know that the place we call home is a safe one so I can concentrate on making my craft the best it can be. Especially if I am to be dressing a fine Orlesian such as yourself. I wouldn't want to turn out anything less than my best," Sansa says sweetly.

She might not be a caged bird any longer but she still certainly knows how to sing a pretty song.

"Well yes, I think we can arrange something. I know of some former, ahem, tenants who are no longer with us. Small house, of course, nothing luxurious mind you - " The Lord drawled out.

Tyrion raised his hand, "We have simple needs, my wife and I. Simple cottage, simple life. And of course, you don't have to worry about collecting rents as we are working personally for you. All we ask is for a reasonable profit to be able to keep my wife in simple comfort, and plenty of materials. Your generosity is so noted."

"Yes, I shall see to it right away, don't you move."

Once the Orlesian clears away, Sansa turns to Tyrion and gives him a grin, happiness alight in her upturned blue eyes.

"I think we were successful in that endeavor, my lord. What do you think? Do we make quite the pair or what?"

Tyrion's grin is as wide and as bright as hers, as he turned around and jumped on a crate to pull her closer and kiss her soundly, "I think we are the most brilliant team, my lady." He cupped her face and kissed her again, gleeful, "I absolutely love you."

The words take Sansa aback for a moment. Considering they'd had a bit of a quarrel about that four letter word a moon or so ago she's a bit shocked he'd let it fall from his lips now but she feels her cheeks heat and she kisses him again, trying to cover her surprise.

"You love me? Truly?"

Well.

He did just say that, didn't he?

One corner of his mouth lifted, before she kisses him again. When she releases him, that's when he replies.

"I told you I would say it when you least expected it."

"You did, lord husband. You kept your word on that, along with everything else," Sansa says. She takes his hand and brushes her lips against his knuckles.

"I love you, too. I love that you take care of me, that you think of me, that you want me no matter what."

"Well that's just because I like to keep my promises." He dips down before her, before moving in close. "And I always shall."

"I love you so much," Sansa says, leaning in to kiss him again. He's there and there's people around them, yes, but she doesn't much care about that. She only cares about this moment and the freedom she feels in expressing herself.

His smile softened at that statement, but he completely melted into that kiss. And if you think he gave a damn who saw? Well. They hadn't seen his wife lately, now had they?

"We should see about this house," Sansa says after a long moment filled with more kissing. "Settle in, perhaps?"

"When he returns with the key, we shall." He smiled at her, "Our own little cottage in ... well, beggars cannot be choosers, yes?"

"I am just happy to have our own little cottage," Sansa says. "I can make it look like a proper home."

She leans in a bit, whispers against his ear. "We can be together properly. More regularly." Sansa is too shy to engage in such things where people might hear her, after all.

"Well, you shall have it." He promised, crossing his chest, before he gave her a cheeky smirk. "Sooner rather than later."

OPEN LOG: Establishing a Base in Kirkwall

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