[OPEN] A dwarf out and about

[ragweed]

WHO: Kit and OPEN
WHAT: Kit recovering from the injury he sustained in the Deep Roads, and then exploring the Gallows a bit.
WHEN: The latter half of Solace/July.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: This post is open to anyone who might have reason to drop by the infirmary, or interact with a slightly lost looking, ripped a f dwarf limping around the Gallows after his convalescence.

Kirkwall has changed since Kit was last in it.

He'd landed in the City of Chains the first time 'round the same summer the Arishok's warship ran aground and the Qunari themselves were camped out in their compound by the docks like dread sentinels. The dwarven mercenary band he'd been a part of at the time had been serving as a guard retinue for a Merchants' Guild caravan, and business had brought them into the city to settle old debts, and generate some new ones, all in the name of profit. The city had looked like a right shithole then, with the poor, the dead, and the dying right under the noses of the nobility, sitting pretty in their decadent Hightown estates. Chantry Templars and priestesses could be found at nearly every level of the city--save Darktown, of course, where they never set foot except in pursuit of apostates.

It still looked like a shithole--but at least the Gallows had a forest right in the middle of it now.


I. THE INFIRMARY


The cot he's been laid up in for the past couple of days is clean and comfortable; the blanket is a bit scratchy, and obviously cut for someone about a foot and a half taller than your average dwarf, but it gets the job done and keeps the chill out. A competent physicker has seen to his wounded leg, though after many failed attempts at cajoling Kit into accepting it, she finally accepts that he's just not going to tolerate a mage healer taking a look at the wound.

It means his leg still aches terribly days after his misadventure into the Deep Roads... but all things considered, he's definitely had worse.

It's a cool, early morning when he takes the crutch that has been left at his bedside and limps his way just outside the infirmary to roll himself a cigarette and have a smoke. Leaning against the doorframe, he squints his eyes against the morning light and enjoys the quiet, interrupted only by the drowsy sounds of the Gallows personnel as they wake, and the cries of seabirds.



II. THE LIBRARY


He's never been in a library before.

No, really. The casteless dwarves certainly weren't allowed into the Diamond Quarter back in Orzammar, let alone into the hallowed halls of the Shaperate with her many mysteries and memories of the dwarves who came before. As a dead-eyed duster kid looking up at the Diamond Quarter from the stifling ruins of Dust Town, Kit liked to imagine that there was, at one point, a Gandir dwarf who'd had a name, a caste, and a life recorded in those memories. Before he'd been reviled, and then forgotten, and then reviled again.

It was a stupid thing to waste energy daydreaming about, when he had no idea where his next meal was going to come from. And with the Legion, the only books he read were the ones that his fellows used to teach him his letters.

So it's not academic curiosity that brings Kit and his crutch limping into the Gallows library, each awkward step resonating with embarrassing noisiness throughout the cavernous chamber. He grimaces, and tries to peg-leg along more discreetly; does this place have anything on dwarven history? Probably not. He looks anyway.


III. WILDCARD


[got a better idea? go for it, man, I'll roll with anything as long as it's set in the Gallows]

Comments

[aceso]

Hands lowering into her lap, the bandages are momentarily forgotten as she watches him test his leg. It's always nerve-wracking for her when a patient who has denied magical healing does that. Her fear is they will push too far and re-injure themselves. But that's just her being a worrier.

"I am Christine," she answers simply. Being a mage from the middle class, she's never bothered saying her last name unless asked, as it holds no influence to it. "Might I ask how you came by your injury?"

[ragweed]

"Fighting an ogre in the Deep Roads," he answers, and while his tone isn't quite flippant, he clearly doesn't look too ruffled by this experience despite having clearly had a brush with death. Maybe that's common place for him.

He provides a brief sketch of the scene as it transpired in the Deep Roads, including talking up the battle prowess of the Grey Warden Teren, the mage Vandelin, and Melys. He's a little vague on the details of what brought him into the Deep Roads in the first place, and to ward off any curiosity she might have, he's quick to turn the tables on her.

"So, why did you join up with the Inquisition?"

[aceso]

Honestly, the way people here speak of their encounters with bears, dragons, and the like, one would think it's as easy as waving your hand and seeing the enemy lie dead before you. But Christine shows concern for those who won't show concern for themselves. Sure, she might call the person a fool for rushing into things, but she always cares.

(Unless they're an asshole. Sorry, she doesn't make the rules.)

"By the--" She cuts herself off, but it's been awhile since she's felt like saying an expression like Maker's breath. Her growing respect for the Avvar and their ways means she nearly spoke of the Lady of the Skies, and she doubts that will go over well here. No one needs to know her shifting religious views.

"I had little choice at first. I was recruited. The Grand Enchanter had made the... difficult choice to indenture us to Tevinter. Then the Herald came and recruited us. It was a far better option than taking off. I had no wish to work for a magister, and there was very little chance of me surviving on my own at a time when mages were being killed on sight." She gives a shrug. "It was a good arrangement, and the work the Inquisition does is to save the world. It is good to be a part of that."

[ragweed]

The way she abruptly cuts herself off earns her a strange look from Kit, but he doesn't question her. She might find him a more sympathetic ear for her religious questioning than she'd expect--and besides that, he doesn't have much reverence for the Chantry, short of recognizing that it matters to a lot of people.

Her story causes his heart to twinge with some sympathy, since it sounds to his ear that she hasn't ever had much of a choice in charting the course of her life, like many of the other mages he's met. "That's rough," he tells her, and sounds very much like he means it. "So all things considered, you like it here." Better here than in Tevinter, he imagines.

[aceso]

"I liked it in Skyhold," she says, a quirk to her lips that's not quite a smile. "Kirkwall is a different story." Her eyes lift to take in the tall towers of the Gallows before them. At least the infirmary isn't housed in one of them, but her office for red lyrium research is, as well as the place where they study it. She hates it there. The walls may be painted and the spirits dispelled, but the horrors that happened there can't be washed away.

"But it is where we were brought, and so it is where I must be."

[ragweed]

He follows the line of her gaze towards the Gallows' tall towers, piecing together her apprehensiveness without difficulty. Yep, he'd heard about the troubles here, and had witnessed some of them himself in the years before the Qunari uprising. Kirkwall has never been a haven for mages; he can't imagine that has changed much, even now.

(It's probably no wonder he feels an almost instinctive kinship with mages of all stripes, even if their magic scares the pants off of him. They're so like the casteless in so many ways; though they can live a life with more comfort in it, from birth, choice and opportunity are stripped away from them.)

"Ever thought about just..." He trails off a moment, shrugs, and finishes with, "...just, getting out? Once this is all over and done with, I mean."

[aceso]

"Of course. Once the enemy is defeated and the world safe, I will be moving on. I have already been offered a safe place, and I am eager to see this business done so I might join them." The Avvar hold in the Frostbacks had been her escape plan if Kirkwall turned out to be unbearable. But she's made do, as have many others who had had no desire to leave Skyhold. There are still tears sometimes, but she'll rally.

"And yourself? Might I know why you are here among us?"

[ragweed]

She puts on a brave face, Kit decides, but the cracks in it still show through a little bit. He can't blame her; in her shoes, having to shoulder that burden, would he be any different?

He dips his head some at her question and shrugs, drawing in a slow breath and then exhaling it out again. "Just recovering from getting my leg gouged by an ogre, right now," he says and nods down at the injury, still on the mend. "Afterwards... I don't know." He squints through the morning fog as it dissipates; the rest of the Gallows is beginning to wake up.

"I don't really have anywhere else to go." Except back to the Deep Roads, that is.

[aceso]

"The Inquisition has taken in many. Most contribute in some way, but there are refugees at Skyhold too, displaced by the war." He wouldn't have to join them unless he wanted to, but the organization can't thrive if everyone takes and doesn't give in return. As for Christine, she's at her best when she's throwing herself into her work. She could never have been just a refugee.

"For now, just worry about recovering. The rest can come later."

[ragweed]

He doesn't respond immediately, but shakes his head some when she mentions the refugees. His heart goes out to them, but he could never be among their number and count himself as satisfied for long. He has skills that he can contribute to a cause; he'll do what he can--once he's well.

"Sound advice," he replies and offers her another small smile.

He finishes off his cigarette, then puts it out and mashes the burning ember out with the boot of his toe. "I might go back in," he says, pointing a thumb back over his shoulder towards his tent, "rest a while."

[aceso]

"Advice that so few take," she says with a sigh. "Though you appear to be much wiser regarding your health. Do you need me to get you anything before you settle in?" The bandage rolling is hardly something important, merely a way to keep the hands busy in between patients. They have plenty of bandages stocked up and ready to go, so she doesn't mind tending to him if he needs it.

[ragweed]

He almost laughs aloud at that comment. Him? Wise regarding his health? "Don't let my old commander hear you say that," he says, smiling, "he might fall out from shock. And no," he adds at her kind offer, shaking his head some and holding up his hand as though to discourage her from going out of her way on his account, "I'll be just fine on my own." A pause. "Thank you, though."

With his goodbyes and thank you's said, he turns and ducks back into the tent.