faderift | [OPEN]

WHO: Nerva Lecuyer and literally anyone who wants in on the fun
WHAT: A Templar escorting two Tranquil arrives at Skyhold
WHEN: From nowish and open to people as they come back from the Mire
WHERE: The courtyard
NOTES: lots of hatred

It was incredibly cold, and getting colder, but the deep fur cloak around her shoulders insulated her armour and kept most of the wind off, so it was bearable. Her charges, however - two Tranquil that she had rescued as she fled from the Templars - were difficult. They would not mind the cold even if it was killing them, so she had to be extra vigilant in checking them over for frostbite every night that they made camp. When they finally made it to Skyhold, her soul was as exhausted as her body, and she only made a very cursory introduction before pleading for a place to lay her head, and for protection for the Tranquil. Once she had both, she slept for a long time.

The next morning was bright and clear, and the air felt warmer in the castle despite the early winter that stormed in the mountains around them. She was at a loss, for a few minutes, as to what she should be doing - the entire Inquistion unfamiliar and disconcerting. So few templars, and so many mages, coming and going freely, with no regulation or safety structures in place...

She would take her concerns directly to the leaders of the Inquisition, once she better understood the situation. Until then, it was time to get her bearings.

Training in the courtyard made things easier - let her take her mind off of everything and focus only on shield and blade. She had to pause, however, as she found that her two charges were watching her, waiting for orders.

"The Inquisition is our Order now," she told them solemnly. "You do not report to me, but I am at your disposal if you are in need of any assistance." She knew that assistance would never be requested, but she would offer it again, when she saw them.

Later, she would spend a long time in the Chantry, trying to find some kind of guidance.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She always had the ability to keep herself from being distracted while she trained, but some days were more difficult than others. Training with an elf, a sword that long and tattoos all over him, was different. She thought at first that he was Dalish - she didn't know enough about their markings to be able to distinguish them - but something about him was strange and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She did not, as a rule, give in to her curiosity. But as she finished her routine, the sweat making her armour uncomfortable, she gave herself a break and allowed herself to watch him for a moment as she carefully pulled off her plate. (She always trained with it, because she always fought in it.)

"You are surprisingly skilled with that blade," She said out loud, after several minutes. "I had not thought it a common weapon among elves."

"It's not," he confirmed. "Most elves I've met either use magic," and that word was spat out, like he didn't want to linger on it, "or else use bows. I like to be different."

Which in a way summed up Fenris perfectly. The Dalish tended to make his teeth itch a little... or a lot. City elves were always so oppressed, without truly knowing what oppression was. He truly was a law unto himself. "You handle yourself well."

She noted the way he spat the word magic - just the slightest hint of an approving smile coming to her lips in its wake - but it disappeared as soon as she realised she was giving it. Her face resumed its open, but stony, expression.

She bent her head. "It is a compliment, considering I have just seen your own." She paused, the gears in her head shifting. "Would you honour me with a sparring match?"

He looked at her for a long moment, at the sword and shield, then hefted his sword more comfortably. "Do not expect me to go easy on you," he warned her.

Truth was, he wanted to see just how good this Templar was at fighting. It was always useful to know.

"I trust you will find that you will not need to," Nerva replied - not boasting, just an even statement. She had complete confidence in her skills, and had no fear of taking a few blows. If he bested her, then she would learn better for the next bout. So it was, and so it would be.

She didn't put her armour pieces back on - save for the breastplate that she had not yet removed anyway - and instead drew her sword and hefted her shield up. It was nearly as tall as her - almost rectangular, save for the corners that had been rounded, and was emblazoned with the templar sigil.

She raised her blade before her face in a salute, and then settled her feet, her right sliding back to ground her, the shield held before her, her sword (in her right hand) sliding into its guard position over her shoulder.

Ready.

Then they thought much the same way when it came to fighting - if he learnt something, so much the better. Better to find a weakness when sparring than on the battlefield.

Fenris' two handed sword always looked far too big for him, but he wielded it with ease, far more deft than most warriors he'd ever come across. Most of them, like his new friend, wore heavy armor, carrying sword and shield, often looking like a turtle - though he would never say that to Aveline's face.

He nodded in acknowledgement, dipping the end of his sword a little in return. He made a first tentative move against her, trying to see what she was capable of.

[OPEN]

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