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WHO: Mia Rutherford and you!
WHAT: The Commander's sister arrives at Skyhold.
WHEN: Just after people start trickling back in from the Mire.
WHERE: Skyhold's bailey.
NOTES: n/a

At last, she's made her way to the keep. It's been no small journey, but only a little farther than one she took not so many years ago. Then again, that had been years ago. A full decade now, and she might have been starting to feel it, whatever she might have said to the contrary.

That wasn't stopping Mia from bearing her own load, carrying her own belongings, and walking right alongside the next caravan headed to Skyhold.

She was glad now for the fur she'd brought with her, tucked tightly about her shoulders atop a well-used cloak. It was about as cold as she'd expected this far up in the mountains, though the sun had seen fit to peek through the clouds, and the snow was visisbly melting in the courtyard, leaving muddy puddles and little patches of green here and there. Mia's dark eyes shifted over the length of the bailey, over the scouts and soldiers and various people bustling about. Refugees, pilgrims, mercenaries, mages, templars...more than a few elves, and even a Qunari or two. Anyone else might have felt suddenly small in the midst of all this.

Instead her back straightened, and the first passerby who didn't appear overly burdened by something to do was promptly approached.

"Pardon me, but I was hoping to speak to whoever is assigning work and quarters to newcomers."

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It's not necessarily the greeting she expected. Perhaps some trace of that stubbornness she remembered, a protest as to why she was there, questions of all sorts. That he simply and unabashedly greets her in such a way takes her off-guard for a moment.

Who are you and what have you done with Cullen?

It's not like her to stay off her guard, however, and she quickly recovers, smiling tightly. "Well your manners certainly improved," she murmurs, before stepping in to take a better look at him. There isn't an inch that doesn't receive scrutiny.

After all, he was so very young when last she set eyes on him. Things were different then, simpler. Or perhaps neither of them knew better at that point.

"Pleasantries aside," he starts, and well, there go his manners. "What in the Maker's name are you doing here?"

Because the last place she should be is in a warzone. Cullen won't have it. She is family, someone very dear to his heart, and he will not have anyone else die on him.

Mia only gives him a stern look in turn. Alright, that she'd been prepared for.

"The same thing all these other people are doing here, I'd wager. Trying to make a difference." Her lips pursed for a moment, and she'd squared off her shoulders. "You've got a lot on your plate. It might behoove you to have some people to delegate to, if nothing else."

See? No battlefields or warzones here. She's perfectly happy to take care of things here in Skyhold. Surely no harm could come from that.

"I do delegate. You act as if I must do everything myself." Please don't answer that. He already knows the answer. He really should send her away. He knows Skyhold is safe, but there is always that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that the defenses aren't secure enough yet or that Corypheus and his band of templars and mages could attack at any moment and they won't be ready. The last thing he wants to see- No, he won't think that.

"Alright." He concedes, though he was sure enough that she was going to stay whether he said yes or not. "No scaring any of the new recruits."

"So they may stand in the face of a...creature of Chantry legend, but I should refrain from frightening them."

Oh, the looks she gives him at that. She doesn't put her hands to her hips quite yet, but it's a close thing.

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