[OPEN] now that you're living on the hill

[paladingus]

WHO: Simon and OPEN.
WHAT: Getting reacquainted with Kirkwall.
WHEN: Justinian, just like whenever.
WHERE: All over the city.
NOTES: I'm always happy to write up another starter if you'd like!

I. Hanged Man

Simon's never been a big drinker. He doesn't mind letting people size him up and assume he could drink them under the table, but on the whole, he thinks he has enough vices to atone for without being a lush on top of it all.

But some boredom needs the big guns busted out to take care of it. The Hanged Man has mostly lost the aura of forbidden mystery and excitement it had held when he was a teenage recruit in the Gallows, but the aura of shame and insufficient sanitation that's since replaced it isn't enough to keep him away when it's the only place in town he can afford. He's at the bar, on his third pint, cheering on the brawl that's begun on the other side of the room.

II. Living Quarters

There's plenty about the city that seems unfamiliar now that he's returning to it in his thirties, after nearly a decade and an intervening war, and on the whole, the strangeness isn't a bad thing. He hadn't liked the place to begin with. But all the same, there's something to be said for a little bit of familiarity here and there, and sharing the old templar rooms with Cade again isn't the bad kind of deja vu. It's certainly an improvement on the group quarters. He's on his way to move what few possessions he has into the room, whistling as he carries the box.

III. Markets

The marks from being electrically charbroiled by a furious lightning mage are beginning to fade, but the excruciating stiffness of having all his muscles involuntarily locked up and the bruises from the resulting deadweight collapse aren't quite so quick to dissipate.

Or perhaps they would be, if he were a little more patient with them, but Simon is not a man who takes well to any kind of imposition on his physical fitness. An injury that thinks it's going to keep him off the training grounds is an injury that needs to be taught a lesson and slapped right back into its place, damn it. To that end, he's wandering the market in his civvies, in search of some kind of potion or poultice that can teach his ornery muscle strain who's boss.

IV. Wildcard

Go nuts!

Comments

[meds4sale]

"Many things," he replied. Vague but true - as was most of what came out of his mouth.

"Though only some might be the answer to your troubles."

He narrowed his eyes in thought, though the effect only seemed to make his expression colder. His hand hovered over a lacquer box decorated with ornately patterned fans, and had various folded square paper packets in various colours.

"Is the cause stress, or injury?"

[paladingus]

"I've only got one trouble needs answering at the moment, so that works out just fine for me," he says. Simon is not especially patient with vagueness.

"I guess it's a bit of both. I think I must have pulled a muscle in my shoulder, and I need both arms to swing a sword, so it's impossible not to stress it even further."

No, he's not acknowledging that any problems could possibly exist beyond the physical.

[meds4sale]

"A pulled muscle," he repeated flatly, his scrutinizing stare wandering up from the brightly coloured packets to meet Simon's eyes.

"I imagine," he continued in that aggravatingly slow way of his, "that you do not have the luxury to simply rest it? Or perhaps..."

He turned away, instead opening the bottom drawer of his medicine pack. He rummaged a bit, selecting a moderately sized yellow silk pouch, embroidered with a pattern of red plum blossoms. He gradually filled it with various dried herbs and roots. Then, among a rack glass vials, he selected one, and held it up to the light for inspection. He finally seemed to remember he'd trailed off mid-sentence.

"...You did not consider it an option?" He cast a sidelong glance to Simon, before replacing the vial and selecting another, seemingly identical. This one seemed to fit whatever criteria he had, and he set it aside with the pouch.

"It is always better to treat such problems directly, rather than letting them fester after all."

[paladingus]

Simon looks momentarily guilty. He could be resting the shoulder if he wanted to, certainly should be, and there are employees of the Inquisition who might not have that same luxury if they were in his position, but--

--well, the Medicine Seller has the right of it, on his second guess. Simon is already fidgeting with impatience, but he can't help but be just a little chastened when the man pinpoints his problem.

"I thought it would heal up on its own," he protests, halfheartedly. "I didn't think I needed to do anything about it."

[meds4sale]

"Neglected things rarely mend," he said, giving Simon a pointed look.

Kirkwall alone was a perfect demonstration of that.

In addition to the vial and pouch of herbs, he selected several colourful packets of powdered herbs, and tied the little stacks up in a pretty red thread.

"Take these - " he held up the stack for emphasis, "in hot water with meals. It should dull the pain. These -" he held up the pouch and vial, "should be added to bathwater in the evening. About a third. Soak until the water no longer retains its heat."

He extended the bundle of medicine to Simon.

"Ah yes," he added, almost absent-mindedly, "take rest where you can, of course."