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WHO: Fenris and OPEN
WHAT: Catch-all post! Reading, drinking, stalking slavers, shopping unsuccessfully
WHEN: July/Solace
WHERE: Around Kirkwall
NOTES: No warnings

Reading Practice: Library

It’s at least nice and quiet at the library. Though he’s still not exactly the most comfortable in this place, it has that going for it. Fenris paces around uneasily, until he finds a good spot to settle. Once there, he opens the book he has with him, sighing heavily as he gets back to the page where he’d left off.

Slowly, he traces a finger along the page, mouthing each word one by one. It’s a laborious process for someone who’s still getting down the basics. He’d gone over this section together with Bethany, and while it had seemed fine at the time, it’s always a little more challenging on his own. But at least he's made some progress.

He also has a piece of paper and quill and ink with him. Every so often he - just as deliberately- copies down a word he finds interesting, to work on those writing skills as well. Some of it makes sense. Some words are also just outright baffling, not at all how one would assume them to look. So far, the paper reads, in very scribbly handwriting:

foul

mine

drink

sla ug hte r (??)

evade

open

distress

an d ras t a e andraste Andraste (?)

"Who invented this?" he murmurs grumpily. It's as if they wanted to make it as deliberately inconsistent as possible.

Hanged Man

Fenris quietly sips drink after drink, hanging back for a while as people come and go. Finally, he turns to whoever’s near him at the bar, cards in hand.

“Why don’t we have an exchange? I’ll teach you a game I know, if you’ll do likewise for me.”

He’s never thought to find out what sort of card games rifters play, or possibly games from lands here that he knows little about. With a few drinks in him, he’s certainly interested in finding out. It’s a question he’ll have to pose to more people, later, he thinks.

Slaver Hunting: Kirkwall Alley, Night

Taking down slavers is still something Fenris does on the side… he just can’t help it, when he catches wind of something going on, he needs to do something about it. Such as right now. It’s late and dark, as he makes his way quietly from the docks, slowly stalking the one who he’s been keeping track of lately. But as he creeps along, he’s getting the distinct feeling of being followed or watched…

Soon enough, he heads down an alley, turning to confront whoever else is out there. With his blade drawn, he steadily advances on the person.

“What brings you out here?” And why are you interrupting his important business, damn it!

Armor Shopping: Lowtown

The merchants in Lowtown tend to have the best deals, so that’s where Fenris is now, strolling through the area, eyeing what’s for sale. He’s considering picking up something new, potentially, if he can find something that’ll suit his preferences.

“Is it true? Do you really cast a spell that can rip out a man’s heart?”

Oh, no, here it goes. Fenris turns to the merchant who’d spoken and glares. “Do I look like a mage to you?”

The merchant looks uneasy, but soon enough, they’re interrupted by a woman selling flowers. She comes along, and upon seeing Fenris, promptly places a crown of pretty pink flowers on his head, quicker than he can react. The woman giggles. “It suits you! Consider it a token of appreciation. You’re that friend of the Champion’s, aren’t you?”

“And he magicked the heart clean out of the Arishok, I heard it, it’s true,” the merchant chimes in.

“I heard it was the whole Qunari compound that he fought, single-handedly!” another flower girl emerges out of nowhere, and suddenly there’s a pretty yellow and blue flower both being added to his hair.

The last thing he wants is a scene, not here among the merchants. Sigh. He's just going to start backing away, now, ok. It's clear he won't be able to talk sense into any of these people. The pretty flowers in his hair are largely forgotten as he works to step away.

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Korrin is desperately trying to distract herself from her dismal mood of late by doing some shopping for the new apartment. Or rather, staring at the merchandise, lost in thought until she purchases an item just to stop the staring. This isn't going to be a waste of her time if she can at all help it.

Noting the flower-seller, Korrin considers snagging a few for the new place when Fenris and his flower crown is noted. For the first time in what feels like a while, her lips part in a brief grin. Stepping away from her stall, she summons that 'scary qunari' look while placing herself between Fenris and his admirers.

"Go on, nothing to see here." She nods to Fenris, ready to stick with him as long as it takes for them to back off.

At some point, it's inevitable that Inessa will arrive. She makes a near-daily habit of researching something or other when in Kirkwall, either for the official projects or something on the side. Garahel accompanies her, rather mellow after a vigorous game of fetch and looking forward to a nap. Knowing not to make a lot of noise in the library, he pads over to Fenris as quietly as he can, giving him an affectionate bump by way of greeting.

About to tell Garahel not to interrupt, Inessa gets close enough in time to read a word or two from his list and hear that question. Her lips quirk in a faint smile. "It is rather full of quirks, isn't it? I can only say that repetition makes it easier."

[Aleron looks up at the sound of someone muddling through what they're reading and quickly identifies who it is. Not that he's all that familiar with Bethany's friend, per se, but Fenris isn't a complete stranger. He walks over with a vaguely bemused half-smile.]

Common is a very bastardized language with borrowed grammar and loan words. Tevene or even Orlesian have far more standardized conjugation and fewer homophones.

[Look, the man missed his calling as a scholar, and languages is one of his pet subjects of study. For fun.]

The Hanged Man is no Herald's Rest but habits are habits and Araceli is in need of a break from the everything that is her life at present. Which is why Araceli's peering into what's allegedly brandy but could just as easily be paint thinner for all she knows, uncomfortable with her back to the room in a place that has very little reason to love anyone wearing Inquisition colours even when she's in her off-duty attire.

So the offer of a distraction (as if she'd be distracted) is a welcome one. She smiles, tosses her hair over her shoulder and gives the cards a nod. "Ever played Strip Jack Naked?"

Just a city dwarf, born and raised in under a rotted wharf--

Yngvi's out and about as he so often is because he's not, strictly speaking, beholden to anyone that he can't talk his way out of because that's the beauty of working for the Inquisition the way that he does. Still, the disappearances don't sit easily with him because this is his home like it or not, and he knows about it so now he feels responsible especially when spindly elf lasses who don't know how these things work are getting themselves all involved in it.

Fenris is going to have to bring that blade pretty low though because Yngvi rolls out from where he'd been scouting about. Look you don't know what folk are up to, him just trying to get a read on things and--

"F'fuck'ssake!" All one hissed exclamation from a pale dwarf staring up in righteous indigination and alarm. "S'that all about? This is why people talk shite about Kirkwall." The accent is all Kirkwall too, you're why his home has a bad reputation, can you not.

Do you remember this voice from before, the one from over the sending crystal who spoke of tales and horrors and what was the true horror? Here she is now, looking to see how this library measures up to Skyhold's, for what she might need to request, for what might need to be drawn into her personal stash for a time until things are truly worth her while until she pauses, turning slowly.

"Might I offer a suggestion?" Says might even though she's going to whether he likes it or not. "I did not learn from books such as the ones you pore over now, I learned from something older yet for the terms they used, twas easier to learn it that way as a child."

It's also why she speaks like this but she can certainly read judging from her previous intense scrutiny of the shelves.

"Hate to break it to you, Ser Flowers, but I think you've got a rep."

Prompto glances up from a neighboring stall. He's heard about the Champion and learned a bit about them, so he's admittedly a bit curious about someone who was a friend of theirs. Sheesh, Ciri wasn't kidding; people who associate with people like the Champion and Hero certainly are celebrities in their own right.

"You also totally rock those flowers, by the way." Insert a cheeky grin.

"Cards, huh?" He looked up from his drink when the elf turned to him and he noted what was in his hand. Giving a low belch, he thought about it then gave a shrug. Eh why not.

"Sure. I've got a game in mind but let's see what this game is you what to show me first." Honestly he figured he could decide if he liked the elf or not before he came up with what game he felt like teaching him. Namely, this was going to determine if he was an ass or not. It was just that kind of day.

"What are we playing, elf?"

The pure frustration and anger is all too evident in Fenris, who would sooner not take it out on the merchants. It’s tempting, but really, he has better things to do. Once Korrin comes in to the rescue, though, he’s greatly relieved. After a couple of tense moments, the two flower girls scatter off, slipping away as quickly as they’d appeared.

The other merchant gives a nervous laugh and mumbles something about checking on stuff in the back, stepping away in his tent to fumble with some of the extra wares.

Fenris turns to Korrin. “Thank you. I wasn’t planning on demonstrating ‘that magical fisting thing’ as someone once eloquently put it… but it was becoming sorely tempting.” He’s all but forgotten the flowers and how ridiculous he looks, for now, having been too focused on that annoyance of his. “I doubt the Guard would have let that one slide.”

“Ah… hello, boy.” Fenris keeps his voice low as he greets the mabari, giving him immediate behind-the-ear-scratches. He looks up, expecting Inessa to be following, as usual. He’s pleased to see her as she approaches.

He gives a sigh when she makes mention of the ‘quirks’ that the written word entails. “You’re not kidding. For every rule Bethany has mentioned, there seems to be an exception. Wouldn’t it have been more practical to streamline it for ease of use?”

He taps the pen on where he’d written “Andraste”, right near that “e” on the end. It ought to be an “a”, or, he supposes, thinking to their lessons, an “ay”, but instead, no, it can’t be so simple.

[Fenris also mainly only knows Al from the wedding, and his help in the mansion… but since he’s married to Bethany, he’s pretty ok by default. So he doesn’t really get too bothered by the interruption, pausing and furrowing his brow at the explanation.]

Tevene does have better curse words as a whole, as well. It’s a language well suited to expressing a sense of disgust. [He glances down toward the book, then back toward Al.] Maybe I should have started with Tevene.

[There are, of course, still many Tevene books in the mansion, though he has no doubt they likely wouldn’t make for pleasant reading material.]

The Hanged Man really is an… acquired taste. Fenris still couldn’t believe he’d actually bothered to come back here, but habits are habits. There’d even gotten to be a certain appeal in it, in some warped way. You knew what you were getting, coming here.

Glancing over, Fenris shakes his head. “I can’t say I’ve heard of that one. I hope it’s something you can readily play in public. Where does it originate from?”

“Fasta vass!!” he exclaims in surprise, the Tevene coming out naturally thanks to the suddenness of the dwarf’s appearance. It seems he’s clearly not the only one out here, involved in something or other. By the looks of this dwarf, he’s undoubtedly up to something.

He eyes him closely, trying to get a feel for what he’s exactly about. Not connected with the people he’s been stalking, that much is clear. So whatever he’s doing out here is probably not of concern. “I could ask the same of you. I did ask the same of you, in fact. Were you intending to interfere with my work?” Or maybe he was just getting paranoid again. Old habits of mind sometimes creep in unexpectedly sometimes, reminders from a life on the run. He’s hyper aware when there’s someone else around, regardless of what they might be doing.

He does remember the voice, and he automatically stiffens as she speaks up. It’s one thing to talk over a correspondence device, quite another to be actually in her presence…. her reputation preceding her and all of that. Though lately he does wonder a bit, given his own experiences, how true all the tales about other ‘famous’ people of Thedas really are.

Still, he remains a bit wary, and cautious, even if he wonders at what she means. “How much older do you mean? Is that something this library would even have readily available?”

The interruption is much welcomed, and Fenris shoots a glare toward the flower girls and the merchant near them, then steps away, closer toward the other stall and the man who’d spoken. He doesn’t look too pleased about the flowers comment, reaching up to pull the yellow one out of his hair, glaring at it as he takes it out.

“Unfortunately… or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, much of what they’ve said is untrue.”

He’s still coming to terms with being recognized in this way. It’s… kind of hard for him not to be, anyway, given his distinct appearance, but it still troubles him sometimes. Especially when they get the facts wrong.

Ah. The belching is a little gross, but he’ll let that slide for the time being. He’s seen and heard far more unpleasant things in the wondrous stink pit that is the Hanged Man.

“I was thinking a game of Diamondback, or Wicked Grace, unless you’re already familiar with the two. Then I may have little choice but to dredge up something from Tevinter.”

The two games are quite popular, after all, though one can never assume that even someone who… looks like a native… will know of every single one. Especially here, where people come and go from all over the world.

It hardly helps the Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth of Kirkwall to engage in such intimidation, but Korrin's usual caution tends to fall to the wayside when friends are involved. At least it's used sparingly, and mostly for a good cause. She nods, her lips twitching at that 'magical fisting thing' comment.

"No, probably not. It's nice to be treated as something more than an outsider -I assume, anyway- but it has to get old after a while, especially if it's always like that. Nice flower crown, though."

Satisfied, Garahel plops down on the floor by Fenris, rightly assuming that Inessa will be there for a time.

Inessa nods at his assertion, a rueful smile on her lips. "It would, yes, but the Trade tongue is a mish-mash of words and rules from all over Thedas, even as it began as a dwarven invention. I didn't learn how to read until I was taken to the Circle. What I remember is that reading as often as I could helped cement the rules and helped navigate the contradictions. Nothing helps as effectively as learning through example." Hence the start of her love for books, persisting to the present day.

Look there really needs to be a place a girl can get a decent drink that isn't going to be booze she's bought herself to drink in her own home or somewhere in the Gallows or possibly the Blooming Rose because there's it's a truth universally acknowledged that a brothel always has good drinks.

"Why does everyone think that because it has naked in the name it involves the players getting naked?" She sounds amused enough, sliding her glass to the side because no, she's not ready to try burning her insides just yet. "We call it Beggar My Neighbour too, it comes from my home, and it started with the sailors when they were all on long watches on the docks in port as so many of our card and dice games did."

Aw, but the flowers were so pretty!

"So no magic spells ripping out people's hearts?" You know, he's totally glad that one's not true, as far as he can tell. He doesn't want to have to imagine vital organs being forcibly removed from someone's body. Ever. "Man, it's crazy what people will come up with. The joys of being a celebrity."

Can a dwarf not take a stroll Fenris? Could he not be stretching his legs and trying to forget the fact that he's drowning being back in this city because there are plenty of people with ghosts haunting them, not just the folks who get to be part of stories written by merchant dwarves.

"What work? You came at me with a blade that's," he eyeballs as best he can in the dark which is damn good since, y'know, dwarf, "'bout the size of me? I'm workin' mate, got mouths to feed, got official sanction for what I'm out here for. Ain't interferin' with a damn thing."

So an elf probably isn't going to be the person involved in the thing Yngvi's looking into but an elf might maybe know about what's happening. Maybe. He doesn't assume because he's not an arsehole about things and he's Kirkwall born and raised after all but it's a better bet than say if he'd rolled into a human or a grey horned person.

Now really, Fenris, all her time in Orlais and not an ill thing done no matter the rumours that followed her. All her time with the Inquisition where she has done nothing but offer aid and advice. Even stretch it back to the Fifth Blight and she was helpful, if spiteful. Tales are told as they ever are, he too should know how far the truth often diverges from them.

"If the library is good for anything then I believe it should. Flemeth was able to procure such for my education and I grew up in a hut in the Wilds," she explains drily, moving past him to run her fingers along the shelves, fingers tapping the spines. "Old tales and poetry, the type you will still here oft repeated even now. Tis where many an education begins though usually by candelight and a bedside, though if Circles hold to such traditions or if they teach them by rote? That, I cannot say."

Bethany had been looking for a new staff blade for her staff - and yes, she got attention from the merchants for being Bethany Hawke, but most of them were used to seeing her over by the book merchants and toys. They were used to her, so she was, of course, assuming the rest of the merchants would be the same when she saw poor Fenris getting bombarded from all sides.

She slipped up to his side, and wrapped her arm through his, smiling brightly, "There you are! Oh, what lovely flowers."

She put her Best Charming Dimples out for the growing crowd, "So what's all this then? More tall tales of Varric's? You know we were all happy to help, but we're a modest crew." She tips her head, thinking, "Well, mostly. No fighting off the Arishok single-handedly for any of us, sad to say."

There's another point in favor of Circles, though he knows Inessa isn't anyone who needs convincing. She'd had, as far as she's mentioned, one of the better experiences. How it ought to be. She'd come out of it appropriately disciplined as a result.

"You were fortunate to be taken in," he remarks, nodding. "How many others like you may never have learned such things without the Circles? Anyway..." He sighs, looking at the list of words, and the page that's opened nearby. "It figures that this is more complicated than it might seem. The more I pursue with it, the more I realize just how daunting this will really be." Especially to get to a point where he's fluent with it. At the moment, he tends to need to see the words to copy them down and such. It's not intuitive at all.

Fenris spares a glance... more of a glare... in the direction of those who were bothering him.

"It does get old. I keep hoping that this will wear out the longer I stay here... but that remains to be seen." It's an incentive to stick around here in Kirkwall for a while, though, isn't it? The more they're used to him being back here, the less they're likely to hassle him. He gestures toward his head, a sort of resigned expression. "...Would you prefer to wear it, then?"

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Armor Shopping

Library

Library

the hanged man;

slaver hunting;

library;

Armor shopping

Hanged Man

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Armor Shopping - because come on.

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