{ CLOSED } If I just breathe
WHO: Christine and her closest friends
WHAT: A birthday picnic.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 13th
WHERE: the foothills of the Vimmarks, an hour NW of Kirkwall
WHAT: A birthday picnic.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 13th
WHERE: the foothills of the Vimmarks, an hour NW of Kirkwall

As with most things, Christine overplans for her picnic. She studies maps and speaks with the locals about the safest areas outside Kirkwall and finds that heading towards the foothills of the mountains around mid-morning is probably her safest bet. She invites those nearest and dearest to her to join her for a birthday celebration, though it's by no means fancy. There will be plenty of food, drink, and activities to be had, but the part she's most excited about is just leaving Kirkwall. To breathe fresh air and see some greenery again. The brief respite she had for Aleron and Bethany's wedding made her crave this outing all the more.
On the day, they load up their mounts with the supplies and head out. The trip only takes around an hour and the path is well kept, so when she spots the large maple tree and stream cutting through that a local told her about, she knows they've reached the picnic spot. It's a wide, mostly flat field that starts to rise towards the north. To the east at the end of the field, it rises more sharply, the hills dotted with heavy stones. To the west is the path they've veered off, the large tree, and the stream that keeps going west under a short wooden bridge. And to the south is the view. Green hills descend before them, and while there's a hint of Kirkwall's Hightown within sight, what they can see beyond is the shimmer of sunlight on the Waking Sea. Now it's time to set out the blankets, let the mounts graze and lap water from the stream, and relax. Oh, and release the hounds, cats, and fox. Some of them brought their pets.
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"Most men of most species, I suppose, yes?" Christine smiles at Ponce's attempts at play fighting. He's much less snobbish than he once was, but he's still a little bit, because he is Orlesian and you cannot expect such a creature to be so very common, can you?
"Ah, yes. I am afraid I have been cooped up in the Gallows for my work. It has not been very good for me. That is why I am so happy to be out here." Under the blue sky, sitting on a blanket on the rich, green grass. Opposing colors to Araceli's beach with it's pink sky and golden sand, but still quite beautiful.
"But I am sure you have been busy exploring the rooftops, yes? I remember you wanting such places to climb when you were without at Skyhold."
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"There are a few exceptions, I recommend you accuse Church though, he displays like a swordtail." Araceli smiles knowingly then winks because maybe that's her other birthday present: preening Church as Lux remembers he used to run around the docks quite the thing. Always the contrary little shit.
Getting away is good though Araceli's taken to Kirkwall far quicker than she ever did to Skyhold. City girl from a city by the sea likes the port city, terrible reputation and sordid history be damned. "Your work is appreciated, do not doubt that though I don't imagine it's much of a balm when there's that history but the future? It will be better. We will make it better." Araceli believes that and it's easier to sell the line sitting out here as they are. Nodding, she leans back and tips her head up, trying to decide if she attempts to look innocent before deciding against it. "At night mostly, when Kirkwall is-- not as loud as it is in the day, which is better than Skyhold. I love the noise of a city, and being up high by the docks where I can hear the ships when I'm running and smell the salt air? I threw myself in, gave an old dwarf pretending to be a merchant a fright when I swam out but it was worth it." Christine. Behold that terrifying smile. Now imagine the speed she launched herself right off that roof and into the water at. Totally healer sanctioned y/n?
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"A... swordtail?" she asks with a confused smile. Is that like a chevalier? For all that Araceli has done to adapt to this world, there is plenty she references that goes completely over Christine's head. It's the same way with Church, really. Every conversation is filled with her asking him what half the words he's just said mean.
It's always thrilling (and a little worrying) to hear of Araceli's exploits. They sound like something out of a novel that Christine would read while cozy by the fire, wrapped up in her bear slanket. That life of adventure just isn't for her. Call her a bore, but she prefers safety and security; not leaping from great heights and hoping a plan forms before you hit bottom. Her lips twist into a slightly disapproving look, because she will always worry about someone's health above all else.
"Threw yourself into the harbor in the dark? What if you had hit a rock, or were tangled in a fisher's net and were drowned?" Seriously, is Christine the only one who things of these things?
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Araceli closes her eyes, inhales deeply at the geckering and presses a hand to her mouth. "My son," she mutters. Really. But Christine has asked her a question and she's glad of the distraction.
"It's a thing we call certain men, the kind who go swaggering about attracting a lot of attention to themselves. Often younger men, the way younger men do but men are never not prone to it. Typically they compare themselves to another young man in the process. It's after a little fish we have by the same name and the male fish have a long part on one fin called the sword," Araceli explains it carefully with a smile and a hitch to her voice that threatens to turn to a giggle, sketching the fish in the air until she wiggles one pinkie like the 'sword'. "Now the female fish, as our scholars who have studied them say, they prefer long swords."
And now she'll take a sip of her drink. And attempt to swallow around the giggles that threaten. Then actually start giggling because it's funny to her, it's always funny to say it to someone that doesn't know when she can point to a lot of people in Thedas and pin the name to them at least on certain occasions.
"I am very skilled at what I do. I have asked around for where the place is deep or shallow, watched the tides, and I have knives for nets though if it is my time and the sea takes me, it is where I came from and where I will return to. It will be my time." There's a quiet peace to Araceli's voice because she believes it in the marrow of her bones, sure that if someone cracked them open to inspect it that there would be something of the sea in there, something calling her back. She will return to it, to give life to what gave her life, to feed the things that will feed others. Besides she's not twenty-two, who truly thinks deeply of their mortality at that age?
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"In that case, I can see Church as one of these swordtails. He does so enjoy trying to be charming." He'll give her this smile that makes her stomach do flip flops and heat rush through her, and the whole thing is just unfair, really. How dare he.
Her smile tempers down into something smaller and more thoughtful. She's seen enough death lately to not want anyone to simply accept it, and she can't fathom Araceli's connection to the sea. It's salty water that churns and houses fish and other creatures. Nothing about it speaks to her soul or makes her feel drawn to it. And in a way, that's sad, because she doesn't think she has anywhere that feels like that to her.
"Well, I do not wish to hear of your time coming, even if you will accept it. You are far too valuable to lose to--" But the rest of her sentence is drowned out by the sound of Ponce barreling through a stack of dirty plates, spreading their leftovers over the blanket before he continues on across the grass, food in his fur.
"Ponce!" she shouts in disbelief. "You get back here!" Grabbing a hand towel, she hurries to her feet to chase him down, wanting to clean him.
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Swimmer's lungs and bard drills rescue her.
"He has to duel to truly be one," Araceli continues once she's recovered enough for real speech. "Don't tell me you aren't intrigued by the prospect of such a display of passion, of prowess?"
(Nothing is hotter than someone getting in a duel for you, she's been reliably informed on the subject. Now just to get Korrin involved in something that requires she defend Araceli's honour.) Smiling at Christine as she fishes out a small cloth to dab at her face, Araceli finds herself touched again at having someone who cares for her, who does worry. Christine was one of the first to greet her and to show her kindness in Thedas, something she's done time and time again.
"I am not about to let all your hard work on me go to-" What is this now? When the ladies lunch the boys will have a cheeky clatter?
"LadrĂ³n!" Lux turns an inch at one of his nicknames but scarfs a whole sandwich before racing after his new friend. "That little shit, he's going to be a very real stole when I'm done with him." The rest devolves into Castilean insults as Araceli races to try and cut the pair off.
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"I cannot even picture it! I would fear he would be stabbed to death." Araceli, why is the prospect of injury or death enough to get you all hot and bothered? Christine will never understand you.
But thankfully she doesn't need Araceli to continue painting her a picture of this scenario, because the animals are getting into all kinds of mischief. It's gratifying to see it's not just Ponce for once who is making a mess, and she lets out a merry laugh as she follows after her friend, waving her towel in the air.
"Let me clean you, Ponce! Here, boy!"
The dog, naturally, does not listen and runs as fast as his little legs will carry him. New friends are the best!