[OPEN] You were my direction and my roots.

[faithlikeaseed]

WHO: (open) Myr and everyone; (closed) Myr, Vandelin, and Kit
WHAT: Some days in the life of a busy blind mage as he settles in.
WHEN: First part of August
WHERE: All around the Gallows.
NOTES: no one here but us elves

i.

Myrobalan had hardly put his request in to Casoferrazza before the harried seneschal had given him his approval and chased him off again. The man's haste to get the mage out of his hair had been a little alarming, but Myr isn't about to question what small blessings the Maker dealt out to him.

He places the first of his glyphs on the door to his double room and builds outward, weaving a network of sound and magic he can follow like a spider does the strands of its web. One glyph by every room he needs to know, a matching pair at the end of every major hallway. They're only active when he's close, glowing green and chiming softly in an assortment of different tones; otherwise, they fade to near-transparency and fall silent.

Still, they're a fairly obvious indicator of where he's been and where he hasn't in the three days it takes him to map the length and breadth of the Gallows, measuring his steps and marking what he needs to find again.

[OOC: Myr will be everywhere but the inside of the templar quarters and the upper levels of the mage quarters; feel free to encounter him anywhere but the dungeon.]

ii.

It's been no more than two weeks since the Hasmal contingent arrived and Myr's already out of sync with the waking life of the Gallows.

It isn't something that troubles him much any longer. His gutted Circle had grown used to him being awake all hours of the night and asleep much of the day, or elsewise--he contributed as much as they all did to their survival, so what of it?--so there had been little reason try and repair his schedule.

Besides, it's afforded him certain opportunities for peace and quiet he couldn't have otherwise. He'd marked how some of the more dedicated templars (and at least one knight-enchanter) were up well before dawn to attend to their own conditioning in the courtyard; how it rang with blades or hurried activity at all other hours of the day and into the torchlit evening.

The second hour after midnight, however, sees it standing empty, and Myr slips out into the darkness as gladly as a man going to meet a lover. He takes a moment to stand without the door of the mage tower, muting the glyph there so he can enjoy the velvet silence of the night. Then he begins to pace the courtyard in a regular grid, marking obstructions as he finds them. It isn't so hard like that to locate the space others have cleared for their own practice and bound it in his mind.

Only once he's sure it will be large enough for his own needs does he strip to the waist, folding up his light robe and laying it aside outside one corner of the practice area. Then he retreats back across cleared space, staff in-hand, counting his steps to the center where he stops and crisply salutes an imaginary opponent. The ritual gesture flows easily into the first of the forms, the patterns of attack graven into his muscle-memory.

Out here, unwatched, in the predawn darkness, he becomes for a little while the creature he was meant to be.

iii. (closed)

While they're harder to notice when Myr's not nearby, the locator glyphs aren't invisible at rest. They won't be so hard to follow back to their source at his room in the mage tower, where the glyph on the door gleams faintly in mute indication of the mage's presence.

Comments

[arlathvhen]

Beleth is only acting normal because she knows how to fit in among the outsiders. Just wait until she gets warmed up on talking about the Dalish, and starts pulling out flowcharts and power point presentations.

"Lyrium potions? I believe we have arrangements with the Carta to supply those. I'm afraid that it'd be dangerous for me to work with raw lyrium, and one person wouldn't be able to supply enough to meet the needs of all of our mages and templars." She starts to shrug, realizes that's rather pointless, and stops. "But you are welcome to what we have, of course."

As he speaks, she crosses her arms, listening closely and nodding along. "I'd rather learn how to follow through on them, and be able to use them. It'd help me be able to teach, and it could be a useful skill to have, someday." There's a pause, and then lightly, "I suppose I could use it to hit people with my bow if I ran out of arrows?" That's a joke, mind you, and Beleth gives a faint giggle at her own mental image of it.

Her head tilts at his next words, and at the apologetic tone of them. "Hands-on? I'm not afraid to get--" You can practically hear the gears clink in her head, and if you can't hear those, you can certainly hear the little oh as she realized that he meant. There's a rather guilty moment where she's incredibly grateful that Myr can't see her, so she can be spared him seeing her face slowly reddening. Even so, her hand raises to cover her mouth, and she can't quite make herself pull it away.

Nor can she resist the first question that pops into her head, slightly muffled through her hand.

"Would you have a shirt on for that."

Pause.

"Not--Not that I would. Mind? Either way. Or. Ah. You know." Is this considered flirtatious. Is she even trying to flirt? Beleth isn't certain what she's doing here, but she's sure of one thing: That she's making a fantastic idiot of herself.

[faithlikeaseed]

...Well.

That's where he'd been trying not to go in the middle of the night with a Dalish woman he barely knows and him in only his trousers, but now that the nugg's out of the bag... "We-ell," he drawls, "we've only just met, but if it wouldn't distract you too much from the lessons I can just as well not wear one. Not that I mind either way, myself." He grins in her direction, friendly-like. Seems like a "yes" on whether or not it's flirting, but--he'll see how she responds before he goes any further than that.

"Wouldn't recommend using your bow to hit anyone," he continues, still grinning to show he gets the joke, "but if you're strong enough to draw it you're strong enough for staff-work. I don't know many mages who'd make good archers, but most of us are all right with staves."

[arlathvhen]

Oh, Creators. This is flirting. This is a thing that's happening. And more surprising, is that he's flirting back at her. At least, she thinks that's what's happening? Apparently, she hadn't managed to make a complete fool of herself, so at least she has that going for her. Now she just has to respond without fucking that up.

"I think I'll manage not to be overly distracted." Is that too neutral? "...I wouldn't complain, either way." Nailed it. "...If it's all the same to you, I'll probably be keeping mine on, though."

There's a certain awareness that she is definitely overthinking this, and normal people probably don't spend this much time worrying over verbal communication. They just...think of something to say, and say it. Lucky bastards.

"I'll save my bow for archery, then. But if you think I can do the staff-work, I'd be willing to try it. At the least, if I can't do it now, I'll be able to practice." She can...probably fit that into her schedule, somewhere. Maybe she needs to start thinking more seriously about getting a secretary.

[faithlikeaseed]

It's definitely flirting, and Myr's definitely pleased to hear it returned in kind, whether or not Beleth's response is ambivalent for his theoretical romantic ambitions. "Whatever's comfortable for you," he replies, amiably. "Though I'll admit it's cold enough down here in the south I'll stick to shirts unless we're liable to work up a sweat. How anyone lives down here through the whole year I won't ever understand.

"That aside, I do think so, and as you practice you'll get stronger at it. Just a matter of sticking with it, like anything else. When do you want to start?" Since "right now" is probably not on the table. Thinking of that, though-- "And how often would you be free for it? I don't sleep normal hours so I couldn't guarantee you I'd be around at the same time every day."

Seems best for both the sake of his own lingering shame and whatever scheduling she's got to do to get that part out of the way from the first.

[arlathvhen]

"The south?" She blinks at that--not entirely startled, but it's been a while since she's heard anyone call the Free Marches the south. Perhaps he's from Rivain, or Antiva?

"I've spent most of my life in the Free Marches--at least, wandering the wilderness of it. Not actually visiting any cities--but, um. I'm used to the weather, at least. But--um. If you think this is cold, you should be glad that you weren't here when we were in Skyhold. The castle proper was alright, I suspect there was ancient magic involved in keeping it a suitable temperature. But I lived in a Grey Warden camp a bit of a walk away from it." She laughs quietly, shaking her head. Sometimes, despite the cold, she missed that camp. It was...private. Comfortable. The people there were always kind to her.

They were still here, of course, but it wasn't the same, all of them living in the same area with all the other assholes in the Inquisition.

"As for starting--I can start any time. I'm not sure how often I would be available, but...I think these hours would actually be the easiest for me to see you." She looks around, squinting into the sky. No sun quite yet, but it was threatening. "My job tends to have most activity happen...later in the day." Have you ever seen someone do spying at lunchtime? No, you haven't.

"Although--" There's hesitation, before she decides to go for it. "--I'd understand your hesitation, if you're worried about what people might think. Meeting me at absurd hours of the night. Morning. Whichever."

we're back to flirting again, it happened

[faithlikeaseed]

"Hasmal's on the border with Tevinter," he explains, "nearly in the Silent Plains. Warmer up there the year round and not half so damp except in the winter."

Accordingly, he shudders eloquently at her description of Skyhold. "Very glad. I know most of our people from the Circle went on to join the rest of the Inquisition there, but--there's snow in those parts, isn't there?" The faint note of horror in his voice at the thought of frozen water everywhere is mostly feigned. Mostly.

"Right. Then if I'm up, I'll be out here for a little while every morning." He flashes her direction an easy grin that's good cover for a sudden pang of unease. Are you sure you want to do this?

If he doesn't try, things won't improve any. And she hasn't given the first indication of looking down on him as ridiculous for working to maintain his own skills. "Or you can always drop me a word over the crystals, if that's better for you."

To the thought all of this might look improper-- Myr's got the grace to look briefly abashed himself. Only a few months away from his Circle and already he's lost all sense of discretion; what's the world coming to. "So long as it's out in the open, I don't know if anyone could fault us. Not that I'm truly worried if you're not; I've a reputation that won't be hurt any by rumors I'm off spending time with Dalish girls."

At least, not when he puts it like that.

[arlathvhen]

"Oh," And her first thought is How unfortunate, to be so close to Tevinter, but that is not a polite thing to tell someone, so instead she just nods. A smile slips onto her face when he acts horrified at the very thought of snow, and she can't help but giggle a little as she replied. "Lots of snow. We were lucky there were hot springs in Skyhold, and they fed into the river near our camp."

Another nod--wait, dang it--"Ah, that sounds good. If I'm up around this time, I'll check here, then. If not, I'll contact you on the crystal. Though I don't wish to rouse you if you happen to be asleep--ah. So if I do, and you are, then feel free to ignore me." Wow. That was awkward. But at least that's sorted out, more or less.

Flirting again. This time, she needs to say something that's not neutral or ambiguous. She can do this. Without going overboard, hopefully. What was it Cyril had told her? Compliments. Compliments were a good way to flirt.

"I'm not worried. I dare say that I could do worse to my reputation than be seen in the company of an attractive man."

Creators, was that too forward? That was too forward, wasn't it. Why is she so bad at this? Why can't she communicate like a normal person. She clears her throat, hand going over her mouth again. Sylaise, grant her strength.

"Or--um. You know. Whatever works for you."