[Open] Learning a new life

[theexile]

WHO: Kattrin and whoever
WHAT: Kattrin is getting used to being in the lowlands but there are still some things that are odd. Some time in the daily life of...
WHEN: Throughout the month
WHERE: Various locations
NOTES: Warning for talk about past injuries

A. Strange Gifts

Within the hold it had been common to trade with other cultures for things. The dwarves and Orlesians had been the two most common. However, things had been different since coming here. It seemed the most common form of trade involved coin. She didn't fully understand it but she'd learned to find ways to get this coin in order to obtain food and supplies for her daily life.

So it had been a surprise to her when she'd instead received a book for healing the child of a woman. Apparently she'd felt bad for not having the coin to give for the treatment and this had been all she'd had. Kattrin had eventually accepted it but now she sat by a wall near the docks (fennec sleeping in her pack but tail poking out) looking at it. Just turning it over and over. She wasn't even aware of what it said for she couldn't read at all herself.

Probably not the normal reaction to a book by any means, right?

B. Phantom Pains

Months ago she'd left her hold. At the time she'd still been treating her injuries, healing her back even as she was running. It hadn't been easy and there were times when she wondered if she'd done it correctly. She was sure she hadn't today as she rolled her shoulders uncomfortably while wandering the market for supplies she could buy.

Eventually though someone bumped into her and jostled the staff on her back. Though there was technically no pain it was almost as if some memory wished for that to not be the case. She gave a little hiss and had to mentally remind herself that the scars there weren't actually hurting.

"...It is nothing. I am not hurt." It was unclear if that was to someone who saw what happened and looked her way or if it was to the person who bumped her and now was concerned they'd caused injury. Either way it had to be said. Sometimes memories and phantoms of the past were just...inconvenient.

Comments

B

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin isn't the one who jostles Kattrin's staff, that's a random passerby, though she is near enough to hear the hiss. A frown forms as she heads over, easily closing the distance with those long legs. One of the few good things about being a 'qunari' in this city; no one wants to get in her way, so she has a clear path.

"Are you sure? It sounded like it hurt." She narrows her eyes in the direction of said passerby, but they've disappeared into the crowd. "

[theexile]

"It is just the scars. They have no pain but there are days where it sometimes feels as if they should." It had to be that they were still so new. The nerves too damaged for any pain but the memories were still there. The recollection that there still should be such agony on that place of her body. She shook her head but it was clear she wasn't lying. She meant what she said.

"I am alright. I promise."

[gatheringstorm]

That doesn't exactly ease Korrin's frown, much as she's glad that Kattrin isn't in any immediate pain. "Except for scars and memories, sure." She sighs, wishing that Kattrin didn't have to bear the burden of either, but it is what it is. That's not something Korrin can fix for her, not if the spirit healer can't for herself.

"...you know, I just realized I didn't tell you I moved. Are you busy?"

[theexile]

"I can always return to the market later."

And right now she was more interested in not being around people she didn't know. Besides, it would help her to know where Korrin lived now so she could come to see her now and then. With a little smile, she nodded for her to lead the way.

"I would like to see where you live."

[gatheringstorm]

"As long as I'm not taking you away from anything urgent." Korrin nods and leads them up the stairs, toward those that will take them down to the docks. "It's nothing grand, but it's ours. I can't tell you how so fucking tired I've been of living in the barracks. Not enough space and not enough walls. Now at least we're not tripping over each other, or Lux."

[theexile]

"And you can be loud now?" She was teasing but it was good to get her mind off of memories of what fire had done to her skin. Truly she felt as if she was going to have to find a way to thank Korrin for this later, let her know how grateful she was for the distraction. "I would think you would enjoy that too."

A!

[meds4sale]

Was it a normal reaction to a book? The Medicine Seller would certainly think so and he was quite literate in a language that contained a vast and complicated logography and two syllabaries (a moment of silence for the whole of Thedas who would never understand how clever his puns really were). Then again, the Medicine Seller was probably not the best person to confirm whether something was normal or not.

He had packed up his wares for the day, and headed over.

"Is it good?" He asked, peering curiously at the book. Maybe there were illustrations.

[theexile]

She looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. The man who was no elf despite his ears and painted face. She tilted her head then looked back down at the book, only mildly aware that she was at least holding it upright. That had to count for something at least.

"I could not say. I do not know how to read."

She confessed it without shame, just stating a fact.

[meds4sale]

"No pictures then?" he asked. Kattrin's statement didn't seem to faze him. Nothing did, really; he always had the same cold, flat tone and cold, flat stare. There were glaciers that had more warmth and outward emotions.

Intrigued by the mystery book, he crouched down on his haunches to get a better look at the title.

[theexile]

"There does not seem to be." She gave a shrug. "It was given to me as a price for healing though I said I required nothing."

She held it out for him to take if he wanted a better look at it. A cookbook it seemed. Recipes that must have been in that family for generations. Not that she would know since, like she said, there were no pictures.

[meds4sale]

"Debts weigh heavy on one's pride," he mused, taking the offered book carefully, and leafing through the pages. It didn't seem particularly valuable in the monetary sense, but he could tell when something had been passed between generations. "...Especially when they are incurred by one who says they would owe nothing. It is a book of recipes."

He handed it back.

"Perhaps she could teach you the recipes," he suggested. That way, the woman's pride would be satisfied, a treasured heirloom returned, and Kattrin could actually make use of the book's contents.

A

[alankazam]

A hoarse croak announces his presence.

The raven that hops sidelong across the wall is too small to be an Inquisition messenger, not nearly disheveled enough to be one of Kirkwall's feral brood. Its head tips low, twists and turns to regard her from one beady black eye —

— To regard the fox's tail.

That's a dangerous look. That's the look of a bird debating trouble. Alan clacks his beak, considers, to yank or not to yank.

[theexile]

Kattrin lowered her book to watch the raven. He was a fine bird honestly. Feathers well kept and showing signs of having had good meals. Of course, this also told her this bird might not be from around here.

And also apparently a bird wishing to get up to no good.

She smiled a little but made no move to stretch out her hand to him. She did speak to him though. "That would not be so wise. He sleeps but he is fast and does not mind trying to have a bird for a meal."

[alankazam]

Croak, again.

Its wings flutter, caught out — attentions redirected to the speaker. It watches Kattrin, head craned about to preen. With it ruff puffed up, claws scraping nonchalant along the stones, it seems to almost be making a show of indifference. Look how big and calm it is. Bird don’t give a fuck!!

He ferret out a loose feather at last, drops it, only to seize it up again in his beak. Another tip of the head to Kattrin, a bob forward — you want this, bro?

[theexile]

Her eyes widened a little before she held out her hand to accept the feather. She wasn't sure why this bird was here currently but it...fascinated her. Perhaps a spirit was attempting to communicate? She'd need another moment to be sure honestly.

At least for now she could accept the gift being freely given.

"Thank you, little one."

a;

[foxsays]

Most days, Araceli is by the docks or at the Gallows but the latter is really only for as long as is strictly necessary because naval presence tends to require being at the docks in the first place to talk to the right sort of people. The docks are her sort of people or they will be, and seeing her face, becoming used to her face? That's important.

Lux trots ahead of her and notices the fennec; what stirs in his heart Araceli could put a name to perhaps but she hurries to catch up with him since he misses his tiny subjects from the snows around Skyhold, peering up at the tail with a look of expectation.

"Pardon his rudeness, señora, we didn't mean to interrupt your reading. I apologise if you've lost your place." Araceli smiles, the words light and breezy and hopefully not too fast given the thickness of her accent.

[theexile]

She was certain the one word was referring to her but it was not one she was familiar with. Still, she liked the accent. There was something very pretty about it. It suited the woman it was attached to. As for the fox, she just gave him a little smile as she set down the book and shook her head slowly.

"I do not know the written word so there is no place for me to lose." It was an easy confession really, no shame to be found in it. It was simply who she was and that was that.

"Usually the little one might play but he seems to have taken to what he believes is his home." Namely her bag.

[foxsays]

Politeness has always dictated Araceli falls back on the good manners she was raised with and outside of people she knows, or rather has known with a title or a preferred address in their native tongue seeing as they're gone now, her own words do better than the common greetings. She's surprised for a moment at what she hears; reading isn't always common but she takes it for granted herself that it still surprises her. And this woman does have a book after all.

"You do not know?" She asks before she pauses, clears her throat and gives a bow. "Araceli Bonaventura, at your service." (Did Korrin warn you about the ridiculous flourishes she still gives even now as often as she can? She hasn't given them up even as it slides closer to two years of Thedas laying heavily upon her.)

"Once upon a time this one here," bending, she hoists Lux up without any complaint from the much larger fox, "was small enough to ride around in my pockets. Now if I need to carry him it's up on my shoulders or hoisted on my back. He'd sleep in there, all snug and warm, pop his head out to beg treats of the faces going past us in the streets. Such a little thing in a place of long legs, I'm sure he feels very safe in there."

[theexile]

Araceli... "You are the woman that Korrin loves."

She smiled now, understanding what had drawn the Qunari to her. Those flourishes went well with the beauty. Not to mention that gift for language that suggested a great amount of intelligence. Of course someone like Korrin would love her so dearly.

"You make her happy. I am glad that she found you."

[foxsays]

"That's one way to say it," Araceli agrees, because she doesn't disagree it's just that you do wonder how it is you're spoken about by someone else, what impression they give of you. "Since First Day a year past. Officially." A bit blurred before that but that was when they made a real thing of it all.

Kattrin you haven't heard her attempting Orlesian; too heavily accented, generally never able to connect the word on the page with the word coming out of her mouth so basically she has two separate pools of knowledge of that language depending on when and where she's using it. Even a dog is embarrassed when she's learning a new Orlesian word.

"You must forgive me, I've been busy with my new work here in Kirkwall, I barely have time to eat a meal with her most evenings or fall into bed with any sensible words." (Will it ever stop being awkward when you've probably lost the name of your girlfriend's friends in the shuffle of work and lack of sleep, no, no it won't.)

[sans_harmony]

Two weeks ago, Diwaniya wouldn't have had the faintest clue whether the book she's holding was right-side up or not. Now, noticing that it's not, he's pleased to realize that he can tell at least that much.

"Is the writing here foreign to you, too?" he asks.

[theexile]

She looked up at the voice speaking to her. It wasn't a face that she knew. Not that this was surprising since she was still meeting people in this city and had no idea who was Inquisition and who wasn't. That said, she had little reason to ignore the question. It was a fair one.

"That is true enough. I cannot read at all."

[sans_harmony]

He wears the borrowed robes of a Marcher mage, but he's far too new to be able to read anything about the natives of Thedas from their clothing. The most he can tell is that she doesn't look quite like the majority of people he's met so far, but for all he knows, she could just be particularly avant-garde in her fashion sense.

"I couldn't make heads or tails of it when I arrived, either. I don't know how long you've been here, but this place is confusing enough already without illiteracy complicating matters, isn't it?" Never has Diwaniya missed an opportunity to complain and commiserate.

[theexile]

"It is. Though I was Avvar and confusion it something I have grown used to with the lowlands these past few months." And with that she wondered how long he'd been here. Perhaps he was quite new to the Inquisition like herself? Difficult to say honestly.

"Much of what I do does not tend to involve writing or reading though. So I have managed well enough."

[sans_harmony]

"I don't know what 'Avvar' means." The mere concept of different nations and tribes is a bit foreign to Diwaniya, coming as he does from a world where the rulers like to pretend nobody exists outside of them.

"I suppose there are people who wouldn't need to bother. Farmers, and...herb-gatherers, and the like." It's the first profession that comes to mind; the entire economy of his home island had depended on the herb trade.