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[open] prelude to summer
WHO: Waver Velvet +
WHAT: Kirkwall adventures
WHEN: 15-31 Bloomingtide
WHERE: The Gallows and Lowtown
NOTES: None
WHAT: Kirkwall adventures
WHEN: 15-31 Bloomingtide
WHERE: The Gallows and Lowtown
NOTES: None
i. discarding objects
It was a goddamn relief that those screeching bronze statues have been hauled off and out of the Gallows entirely. Seeing the various parts laying on the ground had been getting more than slightly disturbing, and Waver preferred to not think about the fact that his ears had rung for hours afterwards. They often threatened to do so again if he recalled those adventures for too long.
On the other hand, seeing the murals go didn't have the same reaction of utter relief. The fact that half were being saved suggested that their value was such that all of them ought to be, but the rest of him argued that melting them down would probably result in more money.
The day before removal, Waver went to take one last look at the whole set. Truly, he hadn't really paid much attention to them until it was made clear that they were going away. He didn't hide the fact that he was standing and staring at the whole set, trying to read the artist's intentions in the piece.
"I wonder if anyone's going to draw the contents of the ones being melted down," he murmured to himself. "Or if that's just going to be a part of removal tomorrow."
ii. may flowers
Since he helped clear out the herb garden when he first came with the advance group to the Gallows, Waver wandered by there often. He wasn't a gardener nor would he trust himself with the plants, but it was one of the first places in all of Thedas that he had had a tangible impact on.
Sometimes he'd sit himself down under one of the trees and enjoy the quiet. If he dozed, well, that was obvious. He'd end up sprawled on the ground instead, an inelegant pile of long limbs and his hair probably half underneath him and half being held onto by the rougher patches of bark on the tree itself.
When he wasn't dozing and there was someone coming, he'd pull his extended legs back and curl up a bit more. There was always a soft, "Sorry about that" as well.
iii. shopping
Arriving in the colder months had, for a time, not been a problem for Waver. He had his coat that staved off most chills, and being as close as he was with Iskandar meant he also had a human heat lamp to rely on if things were too bitter. But with spring beginning to change into summer, the need for lighter clothes became all too apparent. His beloved coat was stifling by the mid-afternoon, and the rest of his clothes weren't too far behind.
So Lowtown it was, wandering the streets to investigate fabric sellers and tailors. This, of course, required money, and that wasn't something Waver had much of. In a way, that was a blessing: he wasn't going to attract pickpockets. On the other, it meant examining fabric and then having to walk away.
On more than one occasion, he sighed heavily and said, "Damnit, I wish I had known to pack an entire wardrobe."
iv. wildcard
For other things
no subject
Clock Tower's librarians were there stern, severe, and towering type. It left an impression.
With that, Waver turns each book over to best look at the spine, reading the titles, and face screwing up at the old Tevene. "Interesting alphabet," he murmurs to himself, before reaching under the books to pull out an even slimmer volume.
What he had done was taken a few sheets of parchment and fold everything to make a little booklet, the pages measuring four inches by six. Inside was a neatly written title page, A Few Examples of Non-Thedas Architecture; Earth, 2006. The rest of the pages, totaling no more than twenty, had faithful attempts at trying to draw a few examples of architecture from different periods and the briefest of blurbs about the time frame and culture that produced them. Nothing comprehensive, nor a best of list. More this is what is within my capability to draw.
no subject
She slips a smaller book from her pocket (plain, unmarked: select translations of the Tevene, itself a historical study of the Imperial Highway) before looking to the booklet. If there's no real artistry to it, it's still a novel effort. Some — pyramids — seem near enough to structures she'd seen written of. Others,
Maker. How much wealth must there be, to honeycomb their buildings with so much glass? (How do they not freeze their bloody fingers off in winter?)
"These are remarkable," She regards the page intently, seems to mean it. "Our works must seem so very homogenous, to your eyes."
no subject
Waver takes the smaller book though with delight, and flips through it with intense curiosity. The pyramids give him pause in particular, if only because it allows for one of those beautiful compare/contrast moments.
"We've had a lot of time to come up with styles that can often end up intermixed in the same city district," he admits. "What's in Thedas is just as remarkable to me."
no subject
About half as sincere as it isn’t. Near as she’s ever been able to tell, all theory is nonsense, right up until the point it stops being theory. That it’s upon occasion dangerous nonsense doesn’t lift it free of the category. Dangerous nonsense launches ships, careers, and children from treetops every day.
"There must be a deal of migration then, no? For such mingling of cultures."
no subject
Magi were magi were magi. They didn't like him, and Waver hated Clock Tower back. He sometime wondered why he never walked away from it all.
"A mixture of migration, imperialism, and genuine curiosity from an academic standpoint. Give that a few centuries to ferment, and voila."
no subject
Something tugs at the edge of her mouth, a sort of smile; less guarded than its smoothly-polished cousins, wielded for public display. It's not an alien concept; if fieldwork had been an honour, of sorts, it was also a convenient place to put anyone a little too loud or too stubborn for stationary duty.
"There can be a certain freedom in distance from politics," As frustratingly impotent as it might make one's chances at effecting any real change — "Is it work you might continue here?"
Cosima, and her stymied efforts spring to mind.
"I suppose we've empires enough. Should the Inquisition succeed in buying us all time, perhaps we'll yet achieve something upon the order of your cities."
no subject
"I don't think there's much I can work on here, truth be told," he admitted. "Things are too different for experiments, and in truth, there's too much for me to learn."
There was a simple pleasure in not having to fret day and night about students and departments and the trappings of magecraft. Being outside of the realm of politics was freeing beyond measure, and Waver had not felt so light in years. Never mind the presence of Iskandar, which was the most important thing of all.
"I think that's more than possible."