faderift | OPEN | "The old ways are lost," you sang as you flew

WHO: Pel + YOU
WHAT: Open log for April/Cloudreach
WHEN: Cloudreach
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Will update with any warnings.

Arrival

Between the cramped ship and the stuffy warehouse, Pel feels like cargo. It's also hot, or it feels that way to her. Everything that was comfortable has gone, except for familiar people she doesn't know how to approach for a hug. She's not accustomed to asking for care.

So rather than her usual aloofness, Pel looks genuinely shaken, even depressed, and altogether wan and sleepless.

Early- to Mid-month

By the third day, Pel has shut herself up in a small room in the warehouse. There are frequent flashes of light underneath the door. Posted is a sign:

I AM NOT DEAD OR POSSESSED
ANCIENT AND VERY PRECISE MAGIC BEING WORKED

If you must reach me, see the below instructions:

1. KNOCK.
2. If there is no answer, please get help.
2.a. If you are a mage and believe you can help, please do so.
2.b. If you are not a mage, please find a mage who can help.
2.b.a. Or Alistair or Knight-Commander Norrington. No other Templars.
3. If I answer, state your name and your business but do not enter.
4. If I give you EXPLICIT permission to enter, wait until all the lights you can see from under the door are gone before opening the door.
5. If I do not give you EXPLICIT permission to enter, do not enter.
5.a. Not even if you are a mage.
5.b. Not even if you are a close friend.
5.c. Not even if you think of something horrible that might be happening.
5.d. Not even if you have a delightful prank in mind.
6. If I have not come out for several days, please bring food.
6.a. NOTHING WITH EGGS IN IT.
7. If confused, please refer to the top line of this sign and read on from there.

Lowtown Bazaar

One or two days out of the month, Pel puts on a dress, girds her sword, and goes down to the bazaar. It's different from Halamshiral's slums--cleaner, with less fear and loathing. And there is a host of street food she has wanted to try out since hearing about this place.

One stall has fried Antivan doughnuts that melt on the tongue, sweet and spicy. Orlesian sweets, quiches (ew no no eggs), cakes. Broiled cheese scraped and spread like butter on peppered potatoes. Delicate crepes wrapped around candied fruit and nuts. Creamy yogurt with mint and lime. Skewers of charred beef. A massive variety of incredibly fresh seafood, seasoned and grilled on a stick or sometimes simply boiled or even raw. Rich cream cakes. Nevarran-style sausages with pickled cabbage. Vats of savory noodles. Tender chicken giblets in a spicy broth. Exotic fresh fruits. Fatty, juicy pork and pickled vegetables wrapped up in hot, crispy flatbread. Stewed intestines, fried sweet potatoes, stewed chicken with chewy dumplings. Almost all of this is incredibly cheap--not the fresh seafood, especially not the lobster, but nearly everything else. The places serving it aren't exactly clean, some downright filthy, but most of the food is delicious. Just don't get food poisoning.

Come with her on a food adventure?

Threaded | Flat

The sign is mildly amusing, enough to shake him out of his constant awareness of the place feeling like it's closing in around him. Anders raps on the door while focusing on his own breathing; there's no reason to stress her out further.

"Pel? It's Anders, here to check on you and the little one. Is now a good time?"

The relic Pel is making is very ancient magic. Magic which is the biggest evidence that elves were immortal, because it takes so very long to cast. Pel has studied the shield at Dirthamen, and she has studied Skyhold, but her own attempts look crude by comparison.

She invites Merrill into the room to have a look. Merrill was also at Dirthamen, and knows what it is she's trying to accomplish: magical fortification for the crumbling Gallows. Pel has studied this for a year now, made smaller relics, but this is so much bigger than her. She needs help.

On the table is an unassuming statuette, eroded over the millennia, but definitely ancient elven. Pel has found that artifacts from Elvhenan are more receptive to the magic she is casting.

"It's like trying to plug a dozen holes with only your fingers," she sighs. "My head might be too far into it to see what needs to be done."

Sina is in a similar state, stretched all the thinner by the added stress and the fact that she's already had one incident with her anchor in the Gallows. It's so much, all at once (and with her wedding coming up, no less), and she finds herself actively seeking out a friendly face, particularly one with tattoos, framed by ears that are pointed like hers.
She more materializes than walks to Pel's side, taking her arm and looking worriedly around, offering support as much as she needs it. They're both total strangers here, but Pel has always been a bit better equipped to deal with the new and the human.

The first time Alistair sees the sign, he stops, and frowns, and leaves.

He's back shortly with a freshly dipped pen, adding or former almost-Templars to the language in his messy, scratchy version of an educated hand, and as he's going over the lettering a second time to smooth it out where writing vertically made the ink uneven, the lights beneath the door stop all on their own, for whatever reason—a problem, a break.

In any case, he says, "Pel? What is it exactly I might be rescuing you from if there's a problem?"

Early month

Closed to Merrill

Arrival

mid-month