[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

[paladingus]

It's the first time she's really seemed distressed when she talks of her exile, and he feels guilty even if he hadn't been the one to provoke it.

"Well--no one should fault you for that," he offers, sitting up straighter. "We in the Chantry would be nowhere if Andraste hadn't trusted in her visions. It's a noble thing, to sacrifice for a holy cause. Nothing worth doing's ever easy."

[theexile]

She'd never believed a Templar would be the one to comfort her during one of these moments. To make her feel better about them. Looking up at him, she studied his expression as she listened to him, falling silent for a moment before she spoke again.

"Visions... Yes." She lifted her hand like she was going to touch her shoulder the lowered it again. "Thank you. For your words. You are the first to not show any hesitation or doubt."

[paladingus]

He feels another small ripple of guilt, an oddly dual-sided one--partly because he doesn't think he has been that great at overcoming hesitation and doubt, and partly because he wonders if perhaps he shouldn't be even more hesitant and doubtful, in the name of the Maker.

But he can, with effort, draw a distinction between 'this isn't sacred to me' and 'this can't be sacred to anyone,' and he's not unwilling to believe that there could be divine providence in the signs she saw, even if they each ascribe them to a different god. Even if the signs weren't holy in origin, he does find something admirable in the fact that she believed they were and followed them at her own expense. Piety is a great and respectable virtue.

"Just don't tell the revered mothers," he says, with a quirk of a smile. A breeze blows through the market, raising goosebumps on his arms, and it occurs to him that he probably ought to put his shirt back on. He reaches for it with his good arm.

[theexile]

"I think they are least likely to believe me."

She felt the breeze but really it was nothing compared to the mountains. In all honesty she was often finding it amazing it was so much warmer down here. How did lowlanders deal with it? Still, she couldn't just let him have his shirt that easily.

So with a smile, she shook her head. "Use the one you do not favor right now."

Basically, no shirt unless he used that arm a little. Yes he needed to rest it but it wouldn't harm him to do small but basic activities.

[paladingus]

The last time he was shirtless outdoors for this length of time, he'd been a child back in Starkhaven, swimming in the river with the other village boys. It isn't so very cool outside, but he's not accustomed to feeling wind on bare skin.

But if she says he's got to work for the shirt, she is, after all, the healer. He sighs, mock-exasperated. "Oh, all right."

He reaches carefully for the shirt, pushing through the twinge of pain and finding that it's really not so bad now after all. "Look at that," he says admiringly. "It's better already."

[theexile]

"Animals can sometimes fear magic due to the surprise of it suddenly appearing. I taught myself how to heal with and without it so I could help anyone. Even if they mistrusted my gods."

She offered him a smile then got to her feet to brush herself off, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. With how it reached past her waist it sometimes fell forward so easily. That done, she offered her hand to him to help him up, not seeming to care that he was much taller than herself.

"I should be able to continue to heal the muscles within given time. Even if magic is faster, this may be gentler on your body."

[paladingus]

He can't help but laugh, not unkindly, at the unexpected chivalry. It doesn't deter him from taking the proffered hand.

"I won't complain about that," he says. Any perk is a welcome one, even if he is unconcerned about straining his body further and only opting for the slower treatment for religious reasons. "When do you recommend I come back, then?"

[theexile]

Though small for an Avvar and clearly not built to be a fighter, she was still rather strong and helped him easily enough. Muscles could be built easily enough when your daily life was preparing for many months ahead, after all.

"Every few days at first and then it can be stretched out from there. Unless it truly hurts then come sooner. I work around the docks and rumor tends to lead one to where I am."

She was more than a little aware of the fact that everyone was talking about the Avvar woman who offered healing in Kirkwall.

[paladingus]

"That's how I found you in the first place," he admits. "Mostly people told me to look for the fennec. They did sort of make you sound like you might be eight feet tall and breathing fire, though. I was almost disappointed. Almost."

[theexile]

"I suppose I would be even easier to find then." Really she had no idea why she was so relaxed around a Templar. They were supposed to be terrifying based on everything she'd heard since she was a child. Yet here she was, wanting to be close to one, enjoying talking with him and learning about him.

It was...very strange.

Reaching into her pack, she pulled out a small jar. "Take this. You can rub it into your shoulder when you need to do more work than you should."