[OPEN] you don't have to catch on, lay it out and be gone

[paladingus]

WHO: Simon Ashlock
WHAT: Catchall post.
WHEN: Throughout Kingsway.
WHERE: Various places.
NOTES: Starters for Cade, Kattrin and Myr, and open prompts for everyone else!

CADE

Simon should probably have come to visit sooner. Either after the first night of Callum's visit, or after the bar fight he'd heard rumors of, or...really, at any point before now, but better later-than-ideal than never. He's heard snippets through the grapevine about how Cade's doing, but it's still no substitute for checking in on him in person.

Only as he's being shown up to Cade's room at the inn does he wonder if he should have brought some kind of peace offering, or small token, or...something. He's never quite sure how Cade's going to feel about seeing him.

KATTRIN

Even without the intervention of the spirits, Kattrin's herbal salve had done wonders for Simon's shoulder strain, and he hasn't needed anything further in the way of healing since then--though Simon could be missing three quarters of his limbs and still insist on trying to walk it off, so this does not say a great deal. On the rare occasions when their paths have intersected since, he's never had time for more than a friendly greeting, but today, he'd found himself scraping the bottom of the liniment jar and he has the afternoon free to do something about that.

It takes some searching to find her, but another healer eventually recalls where she'd last seen Kattrin and directs Simon that way (after offering to help him herself, which he politely declines.) He sets off, scanning the ground for the fennec along the way.

MYR

It has somehow not occurred to Simon that Myr has a very good reason to want to stay Gallows-side and avoid too much wandering around by the ferry dock. It's only on the day they've arranged to begin Phase One of their card-sharking plan, when he's about to send a crystal message and suggest they meet up, that he realizes his friend might perhaps like some accompaniment to the city proper.

The mage quarters aren't foreign to him, exactly--he can remember patrolling them as a fresh recruit, years ago. But he hasn't had reason to set foot in them since his return to Kirkwall with the Inquisition, and his memories of them are not ones he would like to dredge up. He hastens to follow the trail of glyphs and knock on Myr's door.

*****

I. BATHS

Simon is a man of few creature comforts, and he has accustomed himself, after long years of communal living, to bathing in cold water. Privacy has always been a rarer and more precious commodity than a hot bath.

Since Cade moved out, though, he's had more of that than he knows what to do with, and today has been a long day of extensive physical exertion. Maybe he can deal with the evening hot water rush tonight, if he comes in near the tail end of it when people will be mostly done.

Of course, if everyone else has that same idea, then he's no better off. But he'll just have to make do.

II. FOREST

How much longer the forest is going to be here, Simon doesn't know. He's well aware of the talks in progress about cutting it down, and more than a little dismayed about them even if he shouldn't be, but...he's found himself too often in opposition to his fellow templars and Chantry liaisons lately. He's got to pick his battles, and he can't afford for this to be one.

The best he can do is enjoy the little bit of nature within the city walls while he can, and maybe if people see a templar basking in the shade of an apple tree along its borders and eating one just tinged with the beauty of approaching autumn, they'll see that it doesn't have to be an act of blasphemy.

III. LIBRARY

Guarding one prisoner is easier than guarding two, and Simon appreciates this. As tasks go, he doesn't particularly mind standing around while Vedici conducts his research, not least because Simon's pretty sure by now that the man's not going to try anything stupid. There's always the possibility that he's simply trying to lull them all into complacency, thus the need for continued templar presence, and Simon can't let himself get too distracted--

--but still, as the time wears on, there's only so much meditative prayer and light daydreaming he can do. He casts a longing eye toward the nearest bookshelf, wishing he could get away with keeping one eye on a book and one eye on the prisoner.

He can't, he knows, even if nobody's looking, but he reaches discreetly for one nonetheless just to peek inside the cover and see what it's about.

IV. WILDCARD

Make my day.

Comments

[theexile]

Kattrin had been doing some washing in the communal baths. It was the best place really and had some of the cleanest waters. Her little fennec was asleep nearby and she was wearing just a pair of loose pants and a loose top with no sleeves, arm holes low. Technically it was more an undershirt but it worked for this and she hardly minded that people would see the edges of scars on her shoulders nor the edges of more...personal body parts.

She noticed the fennec lift his head though and looked over her shoulder to see Simon there. She offered him a nod and smile then returned her gaze to her work.

"I imagine you must be out of what I gave you if you come now." She was aware of how much had been in the little pot. If he'd used it correctly this would be the time.

Looking at a piece of cloth, she studied it and found it to be clean and went to wring the water out of it before setting it aside. "Sit. I can look when I am done with this."

[paladingus]

Simon, by contrast, hasn't had time to change out of his armor, and he's just about as fully-covered as it's possible to be without a helmet. He tilts his head with some confusion at the scene before him, and then promptly and guiltily averts his eyes like any properly-brought-up Chantry boy at the first glimpse of sideboob. The scars don't quite have time to register.

"I don't think that's where you're supposed to--" He pauses, mid-correction, realizing that he can't really explain why anyone should be forbidden to do laundry in the baths. The linens can't be any dirtier than the average warm body after a hard day's work.

"Never mind. I just finished it up this morning, yes. It really does work miracles. If you're still interested, I thought maybe we could keep on with the terms of our agreement? Or I could do something else that needs doing, whatever you like." But he'd been looking forward to the promise of more cultural exchange.

[theexile]

"This saves water." She was very used to bathing and cleaning clothes at the same time. It helped to use less water and was very efficient. Plus it was a good practice to have honestly. One never knew when there might be a shortage of water. Growing up Avvar taught her to survive and this went into that.

"You can ask me questions first, if you like," she offered as she shifted what she was doing so she could twist her hair back to keep it out of her way. Perhaps she should tie... Ah but this was fine.

"I can ask things of you after I finish this." It seemed a fair enough trade anyway.

III

[minrathousian]

Atticus will admit to some mild curiosity about what, exactly, the Inquisition has done with his former apprentice in the intervening time since their scrap in the dungeons. He won't admit to anything more than that--either because he doesn't feel it, or because he hasn't finished taking inventory yet of all the risks that their separation poses to himself, and to his family.

His mandatory work for the Inquisition, at least, provides him with an outlet for that subdued frustration; better to focus on a task single-mindedly than let himself contemplate the likely reality that he has made A Mistake.

There is a cryptography text open on the table in front of him, a pen in his left hand, and a few notes written into the margins of a copy of a Venatori missive. It's not engaging enough work to distract him from the fact that Simon is, in fact, slacking on his job. Atticus pauses in his note taking to look at Simon over the rim of his glasses.

"Reading anything interesting?" he asks almost conversationally. yeah he saw you.

[paladingus]

He's been keeping tabs on Atticus, but he startles guiltily nonetheless. Of course the prisoner's nearby enough to see; Simon hadn't really expected it to go unnoticed by him, but at least he can bank on the probability that nobody will care if Atticus mentions it, either.

"I'm not reading anything at all," he says, "because that would be neglecting my duty. I'm skimming it." And it's boring. "I could ask you the same question, if you're paying attention to anything I'm doing."

III

[judgemewhole]

"Looking for some light reading material?"

Comes the dry response of what might be a vaguely familiar voice, and yes, poor Simon, when you turn Norrington is going to be about three feet behind you with one eyebrow raised. He looks pointedly at the book in Simon's hand, then back at the prisoner, then back at Simon again.

"Is that a new book on 'How to keep a Venatori in place by reading Chantry rhetoric', or you are planning on using that as a blunt weapon if he tries to escape?" Is his drawled question.

[paladingus]

Simon is not an easily-startled man when he has his guard up, but when his attention is divided between prisoner and book, watching out behind him is not a priority. He flinches.

It figures, he supposes. Not a damn thing has happened in the past three hours of excruciatingly dull silence, but the second he puts himself in a compromising position, the Knight-Commander decides to take a leisurely stroll through the library.

"I expect he'd find that a bit difficult when shackled to the desk, ser," he replies, "but it's true that we ought to be prepared for any eventuality."

I

[serannas]

He's almost right. There are very few people around, but there is one who is was also hoping for solitude. Ellana has her arms folded on the edge of the bath pool, legs lazily kicking through the water behind her, though without splashing to the surface. Her clothes and towel are folded up next to her arms, and her staff lies within reach too. The people at the other end are doing their best to ignore her, and she them.

When Simon enters, it's on her side of the bath and she looks up with a sigh.

"I'm not getting out yet." That's what she's told each human who's given her a dirty look for being an elf in their bathwater. She's said it as a simple fact, without challenge or aggression. They want to get aggressive and she'll shapeshift into a honey badger and bite the shit out of them. Their choice.

[paladingus]

Well, at least it's not the size of crowd he'd pessimistically anticipated. The other end of the pool is just a bit too crowded for his taste, especially when Simon counts as more like a person-and-a-half at his size, but this end should be perfectly usable if the current occupant doesn't mind.

He's not sure he can bank on that, though. Ever so slightly self-conscious, he secures the towel a little tighter around his waist. "Well, nobody said you had to. It's meant for more than one person at a time."

II

[sulena]

Saoirse has never been completely sure, one way or another, how she felt about the forest that now occupied the sight of Kirkwall's former Chantry. Mostly, she wished to avoid inciting any violence or ending in the forest being burned to the ground. She had also wished to help the people of Kirkwall understand they were not here to take anything away from them, especially when it came to decision involving their city and especially true of the most... sensitive topics.

Still she cannot deny enjoying what it offered. These days have been difficult as she's worked undercover to discover what might have happened to the missing elves of the city and as a result, she wears her hardships on her face and body in the form of bruises. However this missing persons case ends, she knows they must do something for those too that are not missing and suffering through such hardships. She fears though that forcing that topic might just incite even more violence...

It's difficult all around which is why she is here in the forest today. In her arms is a small basket filled with shiny apples, herbs and flowers that she plans to take to the alienage. It was a nice change of pace from the days and days spent working as a servant which helps her find the urge to sing, enjoying the sunlight and the cool sea breeze breaking over the city from the harbor. She doesn't really expect to find anyone, which is why when she rounds a tree there is a look of surprise on her bruised features before smiling slightly as Saoirse ends her song.

Hello, ser. It's been awhile since we last spoke," she says with a slight bow of her head in greeting. "Are taking time to enjoy the day as well?"

[paladingus]

He hears Saoirse long before he sees her, and her voice is just familiar enough to prompt a stirring of memory, more a sense of deja vu than anything concrete. He doesn't remember that exact hymn from his days in the Gallows, but he remembers following the trailing sound of her voice on his patrols, a rare bright part of a dark job in a darker place. It's the first time anything around here has recalled a positive memory of his time in Kirkwall.

He's turned to greet her as he hears her approach, but the faint smile on his face drops instantly off it when he sees the condition of hers. He's been blissfully oblivious, as he can afford to be, about the plight of the missing elves and what's being done to help them, and he doesn't have any idea what could have left those bruises.

"I was, yes, but--Maker's breath, are you all right?"

II

[arlathvhen]

"It's quite pretty, isn't it?"

The voice comes from...above Simon, up in the tree tops. Perhaps Simon has lost his mind, or the blood magic that created the trees gave them some manner of ability to speak??

Or: There is a Dalish climbing the tree.

Luckily for Simon, it's the latter, which is promptly revealed when Beleth jumps down from said tree. She quickly straightens, and pulls any wrinkles out of her clothes, turning to look at Simon with a careful eye. Apparently he passes the inspection, because he's then given a polite nod.

"You are--were--Cade's roommate, weren't you?"

[paladingus]

He cranes his head sharply back at the first startling question, and then just as quickly back when she leaps down to land in front of him. He probably wouldn't have put it past himself to hear a voice that wasn't there, but he is glad, if slightly bemused, to see that it's an elf he doesn't know.

"Until just recently, I was," he says, all the more confused and a little concerned into the bargain. He is not aware of any Dalish elves Cade may be in the habit of keeping company with, though there are many things about Cade that he doesn't know. "Is he all right?"

II

[eolasemah]

Now that the forest isn't as heavily guarded and people can actually wander within, Sina is there more or less whenever she isn't dealing with the herb gardens in the Gallows. She all but lives here, and probably would if it were allowed, but that might be a little bit too much of a PR nightmare.

She's still on the fence about Templars, based on her experiences with them. Coupe isn't so awful, but Sina is a Dalish apostate, and some things are just so obvious they might as well be in one's DNA. Templars are her natural predator.
But this one doesn't look all that predatory. She finds himself watching him while she sits picking berries, putting most in her basket but diverting one or two to her mouth when it suits her. Summer is the best.

[paladingus]

Simon knows as well as anyone does now who created the forest, at least by reputation. He has not seen Sina sitting patiently outside it to reach out to the skeptics and detractors, though, nor has he heard anything about her except her name. He doesn't recognize her by the shard in her chest--doesn't recognize her at all.

He realizes eventually that he's being watched. There's no reason for him to be wary of her, and he can be sure at least that she doesn't want the trees destroyed. He smiles. "It's lovely, isn't it? The forest."

Cade!!

[onlyhymns]

If there were a bet being held in the Hanged Man that Cade couldn't get any more sorry looking than he already did, the person who bet against it would be drowning in money.
When he opens the door to his inn room, it's to reveal a pale, stubbly wretch covered in new-ish bruises and looking like he hasn't washed his shirt for a month. The look he gives Simon is one of trepidation, almost a wince; here he is, letting everyone down. Again.

[paladingus]

Andraste's tits, he does not say when Cade opens the door, though his surprise is enough to bypass his usual mild oaths entirely and merit some real blasphemy. He's never good at keeping his emotions off his face, but he's trying, because he can tell what that look of Cade's means, and it makes his stomach sink.

Don't say anything. Just don't say anything about how he looks. "Hi," he manages, at length. "I, um. I thought I'd come by, and just...because I haven't seen you in a while."

hi friend <3

[faithlikeaseed]

Right on cue, Myr's there to open the door at Simon's knock. (It's not evidence he was lurking around his door expecting his friend's arrival or anything, at least not with any special kind of anticipation other than a desire to be timely.) He's a little less mussed than usual, dressed down in a borrowed set of robes (the better not to remind anyone of Tevinter--warmer, too) with his oiled cloak thrown over one shoulder against the possibility of rain.

"Evening, ser." If it's not Simon at his door he's going to be mortally embarrassed over the foolish hopeful grin that goes with the words. (As it is, he'd be embarrassed at his own obviousness if he knew he were doing it; but it's good to see be in the templar's presence again.) "Take it you're ready to go, then?"

[paladingus]

It is rather remarkable how much a set of robes that don't scream 'Imperial fashion' can do, but that smile so dazzles Simon for a moment that Myr could be wearing a barrel with straps for all he notices. Perhaps it makes it a little too plain what Myr's thinking, sure, but--on Simon's end, it's nice to have someone who's that pleased to see you. He can't remember the last time anyone was.

"Ready as you are," he says, with a grin. "D'you think we should stop somewhere to let people know where we're going, though? In case we end up in the clink and need bailing out?"

WILDCARD - The dining hall

[wheretheferngrows]

So far, some days are harder than others. This is one of the hard days.

It's been difficult for Fern to find her metaphorical sea legs here; most of the mages she's come across in the Gallows were from Circles, originally, and not many of them are her age--and those who are seem quick to suss out just how little formal schooling she has, and have made it clear to her that she isn't welcome in their social circles. No one is outright rude, but they don't have to be; all they have to do is make sure that every subject they raise during their lunchtime conversation references lectures from enchanters and senior enchanters (those two things are different, somehow, but nobody bothers to explain why), and then, with striking civility, invite her to share her opinion.

It takes very little time at all for Fern to gather up her lunch and flee to a mostly empty-looking table, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. If their laughter follows her, she does her very best to pretend she doesn't hear it.

She also doesn't seem to realize, as she drops down onto the bench, sets her bowl down, and presses her face into her palms, that she's seated herself right across from a Templar.

[paladingus]

Simon has not planned to take a leisurely lunch, and he doesn't usually seek out company in the mess hall in any case. Anything happening among the nearby gathering of mages is lost on him, focused as he is on bolting down his stew, and when Fern collapses onto the bench in front of him, he looks up with sharp surprise.

He remembers her, of course, he'd hardly forget a face that easily. It's a shame to see the poor girl in such distress again--and an even worse shame, he thinks ruefully, that there's nobody better than him around to alleviate it. But he does try, at least.

"I was going to ask how you were finding the Inquisition," he says, not unkindly, "but I think I've already got the answer."

II - a few days after their argument on the training ground

[ragweed]

He isn't seeking out Simon specifically when he arrives at the newly grown Chantry forest to enjoy its ambiance, but he'd be lying if he said the chance meeting wasn't a fortuitous one. Especially considering, in the aftermath of their argument on the training grounds, he'd casually meandered back that way a couple times in hopes of bumping into him again and continuing their conversation--hopefully with a slightly less acrimonious conclusion, this time.

He lets his footfalls on the underbrush announce his presence, just in case Simon hasn't seen him yet, and clears his throat. "Hey."

[paladingus]

Simon had seethed over that for a good long while after the ferry had dropped him off. There's something uniquely galling about having someone so thoroughly determined to take the word of an obviously-lying Vint over yours, and to make you out to be steadily more of a villain the harder you try to convince him to protect himself. Why does nobody ever listen to him?

But it's none of his concern. Kit's free to do whatever he likes, and on his own head be the consequences. Maybe he'll come around.

That hope is pretty much the sole reason he doesn't say anything like wow, you're still in one piece when Kit reappears. Simon could, he's grudgingly realized, stand to be a little less abrasive when trying to appeal to people. It's a work in progress.

"You're back," he observes, more or less neutrally. Definitely still a work in progress. "How goes the sweet-talking?"

1

[justice_is_blond]

He likes a hot bath. He doesn't like staring or glares as much when he's trying to bathe, though, so Anders tends to come in late. Today is one of the days when he actually needs a bath, too - two infants had spat on him, he'd stepped in a new mud (or something) pit in Darktown, and he's pretty sure Lady drooled in his hair while he'd been reading. The need means he's not paying too much attention to who is in the baths when he disrobes and steps in, baring a heavily whip-scarred back and the straight line of a sword scar across his chest that's matched in back.

Anders sinks in under the water completely for a moment before coming up and brushing back his hair, only then glancing around to see who else is in here and finding a Templar he knew by face if not by name.

For a brief moment he contemplates leaving, but doing that means he'll lose a personal battle. They can't control him and they can't force him out. Not anymore. ...There's also the tiny chance that this is one of the scant few who aren't bullies, and he gives the man a second glance as he settles in to soak.

"You're the one that's in the library with the Magister from time to time, aren't you."

[paladingus]

Had it not been for that mission to the shady little town of Damp, Simon wouldn't have reason to recognize Anders' face. The voice would ultimately have given him away, as often as Simon's heard it over the crystals, but until that point, he'd have been friendly enough, staff and robes or no. But they've met before, and he knows perfectly well who the mass murderer at the other end of the bathtub is.

Simon's not one to go looking for trouble. Every templar still entitled to the armor and the philter knows they're obligated to play nice as long as the Inquisition holds power. And likewise, he's not going to let his principles cheat him out of the first nice hot bath he's had time for in weeks. There's just nothing to be done about it, even if there's something that seems almost taunting about the expectation of small talk.

"Is that my claim to fame now?" he mutters. Just what his reputation needs, an indelible link to a Tevinter magister.