[OPEN] and I won't fight through the rising tide

[sans_harmony]

WHO: Diwaniya and anyone who wants to bother him.
WHAT: Diwa making an unintentional nuisance of himself all over Kirkwall, p. much.
WHEN: Throughout the month.
WHERE: All over the place.
NOTES: He's trying, really.

1. Docks

Having spent the last several years of his life governing a small island, Diwaniya's accustomed to spending a fair amount of time observing what goes on around the docks. But Harmony Isle had been tiny, and remote, and even at its busiest, there were never more than a few boats coming and going at once, all tiny rickety craft with humble, grizzled captains, trading simple goods for a few crates of herbs here and there. This--this is almost overwhelming. He's never been in a place quite like Kirkwall.

But the city of his childhood was close enough, from what little he remembers of it now. It's been years since he had cause to recall anything about Dillame, with its loud bustling shipyard and its scent of wet sea air, and his parents' modest inn by the shore, and the nostalgia hits him like a smack of salt spray to the face. It's not something he should remember. It's not relevant anymore, wouldn't have been relevant even if it were physically possible for him ever to see Dillame or his family again, but now that it's not--

In any case, someone should probably remind Diwaniya that a crowded dock filled with people hurriedly lugging cargo around is not an ideal spot to stand around navel-gazing. He's kind of getting in the way.

2. Library

Diwa's authoritative assertion that it would only take him two weeks to be able to read trade as fluently as a native had been, as it turns out, somewhat overconfident. Anders' patient instruction and a month's hard work have made it easy enough for him to read street signs, notices, things printed in large and clear lettering where every letter of the foreign alphabet is distinct and recognizable--but when has that ever applied to a book anyone would want to read? The tantalizing magical tomes in the library are as incomprehensible as ever, the fonts archaic and cramped and the ink sometimes faded and blurred, and no matter how many hours he spends trying to decipher the words, all he ever seems to end up with is a blinding headache.

Slamming the heavy text shut and shoving it aside is poor library etiquette, he knows, but he'd like to think he can be forgiven for it--at least until the book falls off the table with a deafening thud. Whoops.

3. Garden

The garden, at least, doesn't require him to be able to read in order to tend it well. It would help, but as long as he can remember what Sina explains, he can do without. He's been trained to memorize things quickly and easily, but all training hinges on practice, and that's why he's talking quietly to himself as he moves among the pots to water the herbs. "--arcanist's deathroot has the red flowers, and lunatic's deathroot has the purple--no. Arcanist has the purple, lunatic has the red. Arcanist purple, lunatic red. Arcanist purple..."

The plants have all been hand-labeled in a script nobody but Diwa can read. Nobody's complained yet.

4. Stables

When searching for work, Diwaniya had made a point of omitting his zoological credentials, though they're considerably more extensive than his botanical ones--at least back home, they are. Just because he studies animals doesn't mean he wants to be put in a position to take care of them. Even the apprentices in Terrestia aren't made to muck stables or feed creations. But now that he doesn't think he's in any danger of being handed a shovel or a pitchfork and told to get busy, he's brought a pen and paper to come make some observations of all the strange foreign fauna Thedas has to offer. Horses? What are those? This shit is crazy.

He sits down on a hay bale to sketch one, eagerly glancing up to take in new details and make notes in the margins of the drawing.

5. Wildcard!

Comments

[sans_harmony]

Diwaniya looks up in time to catch the little boy darting past, nonplussed and wondering for a moment if he's supposed to provide some kind of supervision for the child--ah, no, there's another adult, whom he presumes to be the boy's mother. Crisis averted.

The prospect of new, unfamiliar plants is an exciting one, and he tilts his head in a futile attempt to see what kinds of seeds she might have. The teasing he can handle, in a way. He might take offense, in another world, but, well. Forget it, Jake. It's Kirkwall.

"You've got that right. If my going over my notes is the strangest thing you run into today, I wish I had your luck."

[arcaneadvisor]

Considering that Kieran's a witch's son, he could supervise some of the adults here because at least he knows how to listen to instructions. Unlike all the people who just go charging off and almost get themselves killed time and time again.

"Kirkwall is where the Veil has ever been thin, spirits press close to observe as they ever have in such places. Bloodshed called them and far worse, and violence is a recent memory, you might have cause to take care." Rifters are known with the Inquisition and she's still not-so-privately fascinated with their origins, with their knowledge but Kirkwall has possibly had quite enough of new arrivals in their city.

She kneels by one pot, opening one vial to tap out a few seeds. "What misfortunes have you suffered this day that trouble you so?"

[sans_harmony]

A kid after Diwaniya's own heart, truly. He considers listening and caution to be tragically underrated skills, their usage in severe decline.

All of this Veil business bothers him with its intangibility. He doesn't have time for this absurd Fade business. Dreams aren't real. You can't measure a dream, or use it as a reliable resource. Spirits are just petty nuisances. He hasn't run afoul of any yet, and until he does, he adamantly refuses to believe they're important or dangerous. Perhaps he shouldn't be considering himself a champion of safety precautions after all.

"Today? Nothing but the garden keeper throwing an inexplicable fit at me. I doubt that has anything to do with the Veil or the spirits, though."

[arcaneadvisor]

At least until bathtime.

As for dreams, wait until you become trapped in one where something tries to pretend that it's your mother then get back to her about real. Or when your magic is drawn from it, when there are things that prowl not only your dreams but the dreams of your son that still give him nightmares that he wakes from with terrified eyes in the small hours. Already in Sundermount she's had to dispatch far more than she would have believed but then that's what happens when ancient horrors cannot rest when all who summoned them have been laid to rest themselves.

"I was unaware the garden had a keeper or that the Inquisition funds stretched so far." Or: Morrigan doesn't really care if the garden has a keeper so she hasn't bothered to keep on top of appointments that don't particularly concern how she lives her life. "What did you do to cause him or her to lose their temper?"