— kindness is what you showed to me

[sulena]

WHO: Saoirse Ceallach + OPEN
WHAT: Saoirse decides the best way to get information on some missing elves is to go undercover as a servant, it goes as well as you expect + some daily activities
WHEN: Throughout mid-to-late August
WHERE: Kirkwall, various
NOTES: Mentions of physical and verbal abuse.

— ＧＡＬＬＯＷＳ.

Her trips to the Gallows have grown in these past weeks. She comes to work with the other in the Chantry relations group and make sure that the small chapel and libraries are kept tidy. Other times, she helps in the kitchens and carries messages while re-learning the passageways that were once all that she knew. It was darker days then... many days that forced her to keep the smaller ones closer to her in vain attempts to protect and shield them from the violence that was becoming their every day.

Today, Saoirse has traveled far up into the Gallows to the large room where their Harrowings once took place. Her Harrowing took place here too. A dimly lit room, surrounded by Templars with hidden faces and her heart threatening to burst. She had passed, of course and became a mage while this place became a distant memory that only reappeared as more mages were made Tranquil and with some never returning at all. Carefully, she traces the outline of something in the gathered dust with the blade of her staff and breathes out a tried sigh.

She will not cry, not now. There was still far too much to do.

— ＡＬＩＥＮＡＧＥ.

Kirkwall's alienage has become a second home for Saoirse these days. She comes to see the elves there almost every morning and leaves their company well after the sun has set in the evening. More often than not she is helping wherever she can lead a hand whether she is cleaning, minding children, gardening or teaching one of the various skills that she has acquired. Other times, she sits with the hahren and listens to her stories that she knows (stories that the hahren of Starkhaven did not know, or knew differently) and sips tea that smells of apples.

Today, she sits at the vhenadahl with a small handful of elven children. In her lap is a well-worn leather book, faded and barely holding together. She does not need it as she knows the Chant by heart and that includes the more... well, controversial verses:

"When the tale was finished, Andraste said to Shartan: Truly, the Maker has called you, just as He called me, to be a Light for your People..."

— ＴＨＥ ＨＡＮＧＥＤ ＭＡＮ.

In truth, Saoirse is the sort of person that stands out inside of a tavern like the Hanged Man. A small, yet bright elf woman, barefoot and constantly surrounded by music. Although she has a variety of weathered instruments with her but the lute and pan whistle are seemingly her favorite. Her songs vary between the the joyous sort of tavern melody that one might except to the more somber ones for those darker, more quiet nights. Most songs are sung in the common tongue but every so often she sings in the language of her home, one that only those that called Starkhaven's alienage home would know.

Tonight has been a quieter night though she has led a drinking song earlier, mostly she has sat near the center of the tavern and played whatever melody came to her mind. Sometimes folk would come up, requesting both familiar and unfamiliar songs, otherwise she would wander until finding a patron and offering them a raised brow.

"I hope your evening has been well," she says with a brilliant smile. "Might you have a request?"

— ＨＩＧＨＴＯＷＮ.

The Egremont family is minor nobility among those in Kirkwall, but nevertheless a good place to start. She has heard the whispers among the women of the alienage to the eldest son's behavior and Lady Egremont's vicious words and even more vicious hand. There is always a need for servants, elven ones to hide in the shadows of the lower levels while their human counterparts took care of things upstairs. It is easy enough to earn a place among the elven servants, the older woman that conducts the interview certainly does her job to sell such terrible things as a blessing for someone so unfortunate as herself.

Her day starts before the sun raises and ends far after the sun sets. She washes, cleans and runs errands under harsh pressure. The head lady in waiting uses any excuse to punish them. A hair is out of place, their is a stain on their apron or their fingers have cracked from being worked raw. She strikes them with a heavy cane on their knuckles, shins and across the face. Once she does not get the laundry in before it rains and goes to sleep nursing two broken fingers that she urges to heal with what little creation magic she knows.

Later in the week, once her bruises have faded, she is set out to retrieve a delivery from a nearby seamstress. In her hurry out of the alley from the back entrance (there was nothing good about a elf entering a hightown store through the door, let alone one clearly dressed as a servant) she fails to look carefully, almost running into someone and very quickly bowing her head.

"I am terribly sorry." She says, hoping whomever it was would not send word back to the household. She could not do her job if she was bedridden. "You were not hurt... were you?"

— ＤＯＣＫＳ.

She knows that the Egremont family is a dead end. As terrible as they are to their elven servants, they are not reasonable for the missing elves and she finds herself back at square one. A part of her wishes to end this ploy, find another way but there was much to learn within the walls of the Hightown estates. Information between servants could be worth their weight in gold and perhaps, just maybe, she could still find the lead she needed.

Yet as Saoirse nurses her bruised cheek and busted lip, she wonders if she can stand it. When she is allowed to sleep, the nights are filled with nightmares of the Gallows and the aftermath of its fall. Every strike brings back another bloody memory and prays that she could last long enough to find a thread to lead her to preventing more elves from vanishing.

— ＷＩＬＤＣＡＲＤ.

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Comments

[sulena]

She turns, ready to move when Saoirse feels something that causes her to turn back quickly and look. A change in the air, tearing into the fade and calling on magic. She knows the feeling as a mage but she has to play dumb, shaking her head and returning to focus on getting back to the estate without any more trouble.

"Have you visited Hightown often, sir?" She asks, beginning to walk and curiously back every so often. "It is unusual to see our People here but I suppose when you are Inquisition, it is a little different. Everyone is treated equally in their ranks, yes?"

[faithlikeaseed]

"No," he admits. "We only arrived from Hasmal a month ago, and I've not had many opportunities to come up here."

Her comment jars oddly off Myr's acute awareness of his own naïveté when it comes to the experiences of most city elves. It is unusual to see our People here, and he'd been shuffled off with the other servants when he'd come seeking information with Ser Coupe-- But habits bred in the egalitarian environment of a Circle don't die easily; his own native trust in the goodness of others, battered but still vital, doesn't let him believe he'd be run off just for the shape of his ears.

Or that he should avoid Hightown for that same reason. "They are," he replies. "So far as I've experienced; shem or elf or dwarf, we're accorded equal opportunities and respect. It's a testament to the Divine's vision in forming it."

[sulena]

"There is beauty to this place despite... the treatment." She admits, smiling lightly under the shadow of her cloak. "The breeze here is nice, and many estate have lovely gardens to enjoy and helps to bring color to this area."

Admittedly, she sneaks into those estates to take small sampling back to the alienage. Saoise hopes one day that they might have a colorful garden to enjoy as well but it seems such a long off. Still, she tilts her head curiously but hums thoughtfully as he speaks.

"It makes me pleased to hear, I wish I could have seen Andraste's prophet before her death but it is good to know that her light continues to guide the Inquisition although we have lost the prophet and the Divine."

There was so much loss, but they could change that and save so many more. "Is there anything specific you wish to know, sir?"

[faithlikeaseed]

By his faint smile, he appreciates the bits of description he's given of Hightown--but the expression vanishes when she brings up the Divine.

"As do I." There's regret in his tone. What would it have been like to meet the Herald, to know Andraste's will on this whole endeavor? To have no cause for doubt?

Well--that's what faith is for.

He keeps up gamely with her as they walk, feeling out his way with his staff and the occasional brush of his fingers against a nearby wall. Her question gives him brief pause, though--the honorific on the end doesn't. "--Call me Myrobalan. Or Myr, if you prefer--I'm not used to 'sir,'" he says. "And--I wouldn't mind your name as well, though I'll understand, if you'd rather not give it."

There's not any telling, with some of the people he's encountered. "Who's your Lady? Is," Maker, he's going to sound a fool, "she any better or worse to her servants than anyone else here?"

tapdances back on in here

[sulena]

Carefully, Saoirse glances to him out of the corner of her eye and smiles slightly.

"Mry, I see. It's a lovely name," she says happily. "And my name? Ah... my name is Saoirse. I think sometimes I should find myself a nickname as you did, as others sometimes have trouble pronouncing it."

The next question causes her a pause as stillness comes over her. "Her family name is Egremont. Minor nobility, but old and well known but to answer your question. No, she is not kind though I am not sure if she is worse or better. I suppose no one has died, so for some that is not terrible at all..."

With a squeeze, she holds the package close to her chest and continues to follow the roads with a slight hum of a melody under her breath. Myr would likely recognize it as a Chantry hymn but with a notable spin on the melody itself. The estate that she calls work for now is only a short walk away from the tailor but as the large gates approach, she cannot help but slow her steps and finally stop altogether.

"Would..." She begins, voice shaking and wondering just what she is doing now. "I hate to impose but would you walk with me somewhere? I cannot bring myself to return to the estate now."

wild cheering <3

[faithlikeaseed]

"Saoirse," he echoes, then again under his breath, testing the pronunciation. He doesn't quite have the hang of it yet, but he'll work on it. It's not so important as rest of what she's telling him and he's quick to turn his attention to that.

...And breathes out in a low, painful hiss of breath. 'No one has died,' is a very low standard of not terrible. "Maker's bones. I'm--sorry." And that lacks all force whatsoever when you can't do a damned thing about it overtly, Myrobalan. It all adds to the feeling of dislocation, of having the world wrenched out from under his feet like a carpet-- He knew intellectually how poorly elves fared in the cities but it never touched him, never applied...

The hymn's at least a familiar touchstone, one he recognizes and loves even for the changes to the melody. He finds himself humming the harmony without thinking about it-- And only stops when she does, both humming and walking.

"It's no imposition," he says; thinks a moment--what about being late?--but doesn't say that. He can't herd her back to somewhere she so obviously doesn't want to be. "Wherever you'd like to go--I'll follow."

[sulena]

"Thank you, truly." She says, and ducks her head with sigh of relief.

Perhaps this is a bad idea, and truly Saoirse knows this is a bad idea. Her body already aches from the bruises and she will suffer more for being late with this package but... but part of her is scared to return. It's the part of her that dreams of the Gallows when she sleeps, if she sleeps because some nights the pain is just too much. Sometimes she swears that she hears the sounds of pain that echoed in the Circle halls coming alive in the shabby servant quarters of the estate.

Instead, she turns and begins to walk along a side street. Being an elf in Hightown was hard enough and two even more so but the Inquisition detail that he wears should be enough to keep anyone away. Besides, these alleyways and side streets were made for people like she pretended to be now. Streets to hide disgusting elven servants from being seen on the clean streets that the nobles walked.

Carefully, Saoirse leads them along until she stops and sighs. The area is small, a single piece of land that opens up to a view of the harbor and beyond. Best of all it allows the breeze to cut through, bringing in smells of salts and the harbor. It's nice, peaceful even which allows her the chance to relax.

"You've been using magic, yes?" She says lightly, curiously even. "To mark a path?"

[faithlikeaseed]

"Anything I can do to help," he replies, voice soft. "I'm glad to."

He doesn't miss that sigh; his heart clenches in his chest to hear it. Anything he can do-- How far does that extend? Right now, to following her as she leads him through those back alleys toward the unfamiliar scent of the sea, keeping quiet so long as she is and wondering if there's anything else in his power to do. There has to be.

Strange as the sea air is to someone from landlocked Hasmal, it's a relief from the close confines of the side streets. Myr spends a moment simply breathing it in once they've stopped. "I have," he says at length. "Marker glyphs; they'll help me find my way back to where we met."