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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.

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"Yes." She answers, though the phrase 'You'd protect the others' draws a slight wariness into her voice. River continues, and it's impossible to make sense of the words, leaving her at an utter loss. But cages. Cages, she catches. Cages, and a desperate need to escape.

Her brain manages to twist the words into something that makes the most sense to Nerva, even if it isn't what's meant, and she nods again. She squeezed River's hands, still holding them.

"I protect them from themselves, and I protect everyone else if they are overwhelmed and the demons take them. And I will protect you, River, you have my word."

"Too cold in the mountain for snakes," she murmurs, her eyes lowering thoughtfully. "Some came south, but they don't bite. Don't carry poison. They're safe until you make them not be."

The woman's hands are rough, but they're firm. She understands, even if the circumstances are different. She believes she'll try to do good, but the worst can often come from the most well-meaning.

"... The snakes," She finally says, as a piece falls into place. "River. The snakes, are they from Tevinter? Were you - were you held there?"

That vicious empathy vibrates within her, but her hands somehow don't tremble, her voice doesn't waver. The 8 year old girl that wants to reach out and hug River fiercely is long, long gone, and the woman that remains has her shield and sword, instead. But some wounds never heal.

It's then she goes quiet, still. But the haunted look in her eyes says enough. Tevinter. She'd once thought it exciting, exotic. Now it holds nothing but crumbling black statues and bad memories in her mind. And everywhere those banners, the serpent against a white banner.

"Can't...get the poison out. Simon tries, but..." She swallows thickly. "Things aren't right anymore. He shouldn't have to."

"I'm sorry," Nerva says, and there's a wealth of honest feeling there, as she lets go of one of River's hands, only to reach out and brush the hair from the girl's eyes.

"I will not ask you to remember more. I - I understand, better than you know. We do not have to speak of it again."

There was a pause, for a moment, as her hand fell away.

"Will you let me meet Simon? I am not sure... I am not sure that I could help, but I would like to offer it, if it turns out to be useful in any capacity."

River's eyes close for a moment. Rage seethes around this woman, would take her if it knew how, but she's too full of things that won't let them in. Wrong things, old things. She's human, for good or ill.

She's not one they need fear, at any rate.

Quietly the girl nods, lifting a hand and pointing towards the healer's tents. He's there, almost without fail, when he is out looking for her after she's crept away somewhere. Always where he can do the most good.

They've found enough people in Skyhold who pitied River more than feared her, enough for Simon to no longer immediately give in to worried fear when he noticed River was out of his sight. They could be trusted to look after her while he worked...and in the moment he worked fervently. He had an idea that might help her. It involved getting his fingers stained with herbs, working on the right mix that might, at least temporarily, quiet the voices in her head and give her some measure of peace.

Simon was bent low over his work in his tent, one flap left open for those in need. Just because Simon was working for his sister's benefit did not mean he would shirk his duty to the Inquisition. It made him easy to find.

She doesn't let go of River's other hand as she nods - the protective rage not subsided enough to allow the loss of contact - and walks with her back to the tents.

It isn't hard to find him - most of the other healers are already in the mire, she already knows Bruce, and the other two around are women. So she approached Simon with an air of confidence, her hand still clasped around his sister's.

Her templar armour on full display.

"You are Simon, are you not?"

It doesn't look good, from the outside, but River seems calm enough. A little worried, perhaps, but she's not fighting the hold on her hand. Maybe that will be enough to keep Simon from fearing the worst straight away.

Maybe.

Her armor gave her approach away before she addressed him, but Simon's eyes were still on his work until the last possible moment. He was working with a small scale, watching the balance carefully until he heard his name.

"Yes, what can I--" Simon looked up dutifully and then froze in a faintly telling way. His eyes widened slightly at the flaming sword engraved on her breastplate, plus the fact that she had a very firm grip on his little sister's hand...

It was clear that he did not like what he saw, though he did not openly panic.

"What happened?" he asked, rising to his feet and crossing the small distance. Not 'what did she do', so he didn't fear the worst. Though he certainly feared close enough.

She would have found the freezing odd, maybe, if she wasn't very aware of just how imposing she could be, in her armour. And showing up at the healers tents with his charge in tow - well, of course he would worry. So she quickly set to reassure him with a shake of her head.

"Nothing. Neither of us are harmed. I have come to--" And there she faltered, the frown pulling on her face. River was one thing. She could admit common cause and common pain to her, but Simon was another creature all together. So, she continued, as detached as possible.

"I have come to offer my help, in whatever way it may be taken. River tells me that you have been caring for her."

"She was worried I'd fall," River murmured, attention now following a raven that was making its way to the tallest tower of the keep. Her teeth raked against her lower lip, fingers still held snugly in the templar's grip.

Her toes dug idly into the soft earth beneath them.

Another offer of help, then...though the very fact that she was a templar did not put Simon at ease as Adelaide's had. Simon didn't have a poor opinion of templars, exactly, but he knew that if any decent one knew the exact nature of River's problem their solution would at best involve a rite of tranquility. At least, that's what his experience told him.

Still, the offer seemed to soothe away the initial worry he had, and the mage nodded, his hands dropping to his sides. He watched his sister for a moment, brow furrowing as he tried to guess if the word 'fall' meant something more...it didn't seem that way.

"You were climbing again," he said, letting out a soft breath. Simon didn't mean it to be accusing, just that he knew of his sister's at times nerve-wracking fondness for high places. "And...barefoot too, where did the boots I got for you--"

The quartermaster was going to strangle him if he showed up asking for another pair. But Simon was getting distracted. He shook his head and reached up to rub away the line in his brow, turning his focus back on the hopefully still wanting to be helpful templar before him.

"Thank you," he said. "I have...though we wouldn't want to trouble anyone..."

"She said she wouldn't be able to hear the stone sing without them," Nerva replied. "I attempted to explain that the stone only speaks to dwarves. She will need new shoes."

The practicalities were easier to speak of than anything else - especially since Nerva had envisioned someone much older than Simon was. River had never said 'brother', and whenever she thought of caregivers - well. That was beside the point. It was distracting, and she didn't need distractions, so instead she frowned.

"It will be more trouble if you are the only one looking out for her," She said, quite bluntly. "You have your own duties. I am happy to accompany River, if you are not available."

"Stone here is different. They saw when it pulled apart, two sides of the tapestry..."

Shoes. Such a preoccupation with them. River's nose wrinkles slightly, but it appears she's outnumbered. For the moment. Climbing would be more difficult when she couldn't feel her footing, but she could stay on the ground for now.

Her eyes flicker briefly between Nerva and Simon now, a faint furrow in her brow. The templar isn't going to hurt them. She's here to help. That's something, isn't it?

Simon thinned his lips at his sister, silently begging her not to say anything both crazy and telling in front of the templar. He didn't know what they saw being pulled apart exactly, but the tapestry sounded a lot like it could be the veil and that was not what they needed to be talking about right now...

"I'm not the only one who looks out for her," he protested, though it was feeble. River was far better at making allies than he was (and he wasn't the one talking in riddles), but even then Simon only knew of a couple of folk in Skyhold he'd trust his sister to be alone with. So far, a templar was not someone he'd count among them...Nerva did not mean harm now, but that could change all too easily.

All the same, openly telling her 'no' might make things even worse just by being suspicious. His hands fidgeted together, thumbs pressing into his palms before he held out an open hand to take his sister back, the pads of his fingers marked a dark green from his work.

"...I only ask, when you are watching her, to come and get me should anything happen."

Luckily Nerva's attention was firmly on Simon, so she didn't seem to notice what River was saying - relegating it back behind her as another mumbled weird thing. Perhaps she would register it later, but she still wouldn't understand it then.

"No?" She asked, arching an eyebrow at the protest. "Is there someone else I should bring my concerns to?" There was a little bit of a reproach, there, as if he was attempting to shirk his responsibility.

But then he seemed to accepted it, so she let out a breath through her nose and nodded. "Of course." She looked over at River and squeezed her hand. "But that won't be necessary, because you are going to learn to be more careful, aren't you?"

"People will get hurt if I fall," she murmurs, gaze straying to one of the battlements with a contemplative look. That had been the lesson here she'd been trying to impart, hadn't it?

As if she didn't know already.

But Nerva meant well, and her hand was warm and gentle, despite the purpose it was meant to be put to. River seemed reluctant to slip away, though moving out of habit towards Simon when he motioned for her. She spent a moment worrying her lower lip, and then:

"...the boots are in the stable. The cats like the laces."

That wasn't what Simon had meant at all, but thank the Maker she realized it before Simon could build himself into taking offense. So often he'd been chided for taking on all of the responsibility he could possibly shoulder and then some, trying to show he was learning to share the weight was his first impulse...and now apparently that was wrong too. Simon's lips were paper thin as he quietly told himself that Nerva wanted to help, that she wasn't a threat to River yet...

And then she didn't actually let River go, prompting her sweetly and what his sister answered with had his blood running cold.

Thankfully River slipped away of her own accord and the mage remembered how to breathe again. He pressed a hand around her shoulders, drawing her into a hug, managing to take his eyes off the templar for a brief moment.

"...that's all right," he told her. "I'll get them back. And maybe something better than laces for you to play with the cats with.

"Thank you, again," he added, looking up once more.

She let go when River pulled away - immediately, and without thought, slipping into a pose of a soldier at attention. It was simply natural.

She offered a stiff bow, raising a hand to her chest.

"No thanks are needed." She looked at River, didn't quite offer a smile (but wanted to) and then turned to excuse herself and leave the two of them to their business.

River, for her part, looked slightly wistful as Nerva pulled away and took her leave of them. "You don't like her," she murmured at last, glancing at her brother out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't approval of the fact, that was damn sure.

Nerva might be dangerous, but she was also the sort of dangerous that might be needed. Simon would never admit to that fact, but he didn't have to.

He'd kept her safe, all this time. She'd do the same if it came down to it.

Simon blinked and turned his head sharply at River in surprise, not sure where the accusation had come from even if it was mostly accurate. First he'd been scolded up and down by this templar woman, and now his own sister was taking a turn at disapproving of him. What had he done? Where exactly did he go wrong?

The frustration was pushed aside with a heavy breath. It wouldn't help, and it would only hinder if River picked up on it...as much as Simon feigned ignorance around others, he knew what his sister was capable of. That was why he was so leery of her making friends with templars.

"I'm sure she means well," Simon said. "Which is what worries me. Just...please, chouchoute, be careful."

Her idea of keeping River safe may be very different from Simon's, after all.

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