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Entry tags:
— (open) do you see it clearer
WHO: Ciri + OPEN
WHAT: In which Ciri is a huge dork about love, is adopted by birds and fights a drunk among other fun adventures
WHEN: Beginnings of August
WHERE: Kirkwall, various
NOTES: Nothing to mention, will update as needed if anything does come up.
WHAT: In which Ciri is a huge dork about love, is adopted by birds and fights a drunk among other fun adventures
WHEN: Beginnings of August
WHERE: Kirkwall, various
NOTES: Nothing to mention, will update as needed if anything does come up.
— ｇａｌｌｏｗｓ.It's not an unfamiliar sight these days to see the ashen-haired Warden practicing in the area segregated off for training. Usually she gets helps from the many of the Inquisition foot soldiers wandering about to practice with or perhaps even one of her mage friends. Today is no different except that the person Ciri is training with is not such a familiar sight on this side of the Gallows, armed with a pair of daggers in hand and holding off the strikes from a long-sword. It's not the usual sort of practice, as Ciri yells commands every so often and follows up with timed strikes from someone who is clearly teaching rather than pushing all of her skill into the session.
Avery, the Inquisition's Head Cook to some, seems to be holding up well under the directions even as Ciri's presses in and invades the other's bubble of space for both closer, faster strikes from her sword. It goes on until Ciri hops back, pushing forward with more strength than intended and the force knocks one of the daggers from the other woman's hands. Instead of steel meeting steel, her blade cuts across Avery's hand and os immediately dropped as blood begins to pour from the wound.
"Shit, shit!" Her sword, usually so well-cared for is forgotten as she reaches out and takes Avery's cut hand into her own. "Maker, shit. Sorry, I wasn't bloody thinking and—"
If Avery was going to speak, it's rather hand with Ciri mumbling and worrying like she is in the present. It probably doesn't help when the Warden chuckles, lifting the other woman's hand and kissing her fingers with a stupid grin. Leaning in with another kiss to Avery's nose and cheek, chuckling despite the grumbles that might be bubbling up inside her companion now.
What a pair of dorks, right?
— ｒｏｏｓｔ.The griffins, much like the Wardens themselves, are a familiar sight around the Gallows. The griffins likely moreso than their fleshy companion if just because it is not unknown to here about some poor servant having one swoop down to steal food or something shiny from their unsuspecting hands. Feathery terrors, the lot of them and Ciri could not agree more with the assessment given to their thought extinct bird children. Especially now that their usual feeding time (already a workout in itself) has turned into Maker be damned play hour instead.
Anyone walking into the roost should be careful of food being thrown because children as Ciri sits in one of the cleaned areas as one griffin needlessly plays with her hair, it would almost be affectionate if not for the fact that she was sure the griffin was only looking through her hair thinking she was hiding more food. Another griffin, one of the... hefty ones, has made a roosting mate of the young Warden. Ciri can only tiredly pet down puffs of feathers, and listens to the happy little calls that almost make you forget they could easily rip someone open.
If you've stayed this long, the new visitor might get a look from both birds and their captive.
"You best have bloody brought them something to eat else they're gonna peck your feet."
— ｈｉｇｈｔｏｗｎ.Ciri takes pride in avoiding fights with the locals since arriving in Kirkwall. After all, everyone had an opinion and Kirkwall was just a powder keg of opinions. Currently, all talk seemed focused on the forest that had sprung up in the place of the former Chantry. Already a place full of explosive opinions, now several times worse and leaving the city feeling on edge as if everyone was waiting for something else to happen to ruin everything.
She doubts it would have been some drunken man, angrily swinging a bottle in one hand and an axe in the other as he gestures wildly at the new forest. He yells about a lot of things, mostly mages and elves with a colorful whirlwind of slurs that leaves her slightly reeling by the sheer number he manages in such a short amount of time. He's gathered a bit of a crowd but most seem interested in just moving along and avoiding confrontation.
Admittedly she is of the same mindset, deciding to leave it to the stationed guard if he went after the forest and continue her walk. It isn't the forest he swings his bottle at though, and instead it smashes at the feet of a small elven woman who cowers as he reaches out to grab her collar. It's in that moment that she decides she can't ignore it before rushing forward. Again, she considers the guards but it's all shoved aside as makes a grab for the man's hand and pushing the woman back.
There's a flash of pain followed by the sharp taste of blood as his fist connects with her nose and mouth. Once more, she thinks of the guards: they could arrest him or something fitting but her body moves before the rational part catches up. Instead the Warden grits her teeth, striking back and throwing her head forward in a headbutt with enough force to spend both parties almost toppling over. Right, okay, no one wins with a headbutt.
Though... maybe someone should hop in before this becomes a brawl?
— ｗｉｌｄｃａｒｄ.For anything not mentioned above! Feel free to find her around the Gallows, along with being found both inside and outside the city. Hit me up through a PM or on plurk at kaldwin if you'd like something set up.
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Avery stays where she is but grimaces slightly and looks away, both because of the interruption and, yes, also to some degree the magic. She knows it's not all terrible and is certainly necessary for what they do here, but her instinctual response to the idea of it being used on her is probably always going to be discomfort now.
At least she tries not to show it overmuch, but the hesitation is still there before she can answer, "Mm, suppose that's the quickest fix."
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Besides, Ciri gives as good as she gets. Inessa rolls her eyes, but her normally pale cheeks grow slightly pink at those words. "You're toeing the line as it is, you know." Yet she denies nothing. ANYWAY, yes, healing that hand. She smiles again at Ciri's endorsement before turning her gaze back to Avery. "It is, I promise." It just takes a second to focus her mind before sending that blue energy Avery's way.
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Once more, Ciri sticks out her tongue playfully before glancing back to Avery with a small raised brow. Magic wasn't something they had talked about before and she worries, briefly, of pushing the other into something out of her comfort zone. Not everyone (thankfully) was like her and basically spent years growing up in the midst of mages and their magic.
Nevertheless, she watches the blue surge of energy pass over before glancing down the wound, or rather where the wound once was on Avery's hand. She runs her thumb over the area, smiling again with slight nudge to Avery's shoulder with her own.
"Better?"
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"Best as," she answers, before looking over to Inessa and giving her a quick, appreciative nod. Whatever her thoughts on magic being used on her, Avery certainly has no hate for the mage herself. Though maybe some, uh, apprehension now that the moment's passed?? She probably has a list of questions or further comments on all this, doesn't she?
"So..."
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"It's alright, I only came to tease her for a moment, not prod my way into everything." Sure, she'll be happy to hear whatever Ciri might tell her later, but there's no need to prolong their interruption now. "Please, return to what you were doing. Garahel and I can always meet with you another time."
Garahel seems to disagree, letting out a whine as he casts big eyes at both of them. Does he have to leave right now, when he has so much love to give?
The little hopeful tail-wag underscores how eager he is for attention, as though Inessa never gives him any.
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"We can take a break, yeah?" She says, glancing back up at Avery from her spot. "Best not push our luck too much when we're just starting anyway. Save that for when I start throwing my alchemical mixtures into our workouts."
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Over Ciri's head, she gives Inessa a significant look, her head cocked slightly. Is she trying to be funny? Is it a cry for help?? The world may never know.
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"Just remember you encouraged this nonsense, when you remember that his appetite for affection is never satisfied." Inessa smirks at Ciri, then meets responds to Avery's look with a serious nod, knowing what she does of her friend's relatively new fighting style. "The way of the Tempest is quite something to see in action, though I can see it being unsettling for those who have never seen it before. Explaining thoroughly beforehand ought to help." A significant look to Ciri, please don't freak out poor Avery with your enthusiasm.
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"It's not like I've brewed up any Lightning lately. Mostly Ice, and a couple of Fire just if I run into any Red Templars again on the road." The last time she really fought them was when they captured Samson. He had beat the shit out of all of them, but in the end-- they won and she got to stick a grenade down someone's throat.
Fun times that one.
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She looks to Garahel for some backup this time. "That wouldn't be dreadful to be covered in, eh?"
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"If it were sweetmeats, he'd never leave her alone again. Picture it, Ciri. You could have a horde of eager mabari following you into every battle...and everywhere else."
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Nevertheless, she glances upwards to Avery with a raised brow. "Downfeathers, huh. Are you suggesting we have a pillow fight? I suppose that could be arranged."
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"Plus, that's a lot of very big mouths to feed," she helpfully points out. "Unless you've a plan to bring a rafter of turkeys with as well for them to eat." Which, yes, is the correct term for it.
"Not to mention the shite."
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"I would say that might be overkill, but in the Deep Roads there's no such thing. Even so, I can't imagine Potato would be at all thrilled to be below ground, let alone the rest of the griffons. And the smell alone...Maker, it wouldn't be the end of the darkspawn but it might fell us. If our senior Wardens actually consider it, I know who to blame."
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"You will be my gallant defender wouldn't you, Garahel? You could lead our new friends into battle just like your namesake." She says reaching out to rub his face, smiling lightly with a laugh. "You'd probably like the bears considering you snore like one."
With that, she stands and dusts herself down with a quiet look between the pair. "We still got Clarel down in the dungeons, yeah? Might as well start with her." Ciri says, verging on a glare. "Then again, I wouldn't be the one to hurt them with such a nasty person."
With a shrug though, she sighs. "You make it sound the Deep Roads don't already smell like shite. Darkspawn smell worse and we have no idea how many are down there digging around. Not to mention the broodmothers, or worse an actual Archdemon. I bet those bastards smell right awful."
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See, isn't this fun? Talking about feces and monsters rather than... oh I don't know, any other potential topics one might be able to think of right now?!
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Her nose wrinkles at mention of Clarel, as though her dishonor is a stench that can be noticed even from here. But she knows better to encourage that tangent. It never leads anywhere good for either of them. Instead, she responds to Avery's notion with a thoughtful nod. "If that can kill our sense of smell in time to deal with the worse denizens of the Deep Roads, I suppose it's a favor of sorts. But I can't imagine we'll get many heroic songs out of the ordeal. None that any but Kaisa might enjoy, perhaps."