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WHO: Fern Doirnáin, Alistair, any other Wardens who want to be around to witness this sad scene + OPEN
WHAT: One elf tries in vain to convince a Grey Warden to let her join their ranks.
WHEN: Directly after this thread with Anders.
WHERE: The Grey Wardens' office; directly after, the ferry pier.
NOTES: The scene with Alistair is open to other Wardens only; the second scene is open to anyone!

I. BADGERING ALISTAIR

There are so many twists and turns and corridors that lead to no where in particular in the Gallows that it takes Fern--already keyed up and anxious and fighting back frustratingly childish tears--longer than she'd have liked to find the office used by the Grey Wardens in Kirkwall. If nothing else, the time spent walking herself in circles does give her a bit of time to dry her eyes and regain her composure, which means when she finally stops in front of the closed door and raps on it, she only looks like she's fighting off a cold, rather than recovering from crying like a baby ten minutes ago.

Waiting for the door to open, she waits outside and picks at her nails, bouncing on the balls of her feet to release some nervous tension.

II. THE GALLOWS DOCKS

She's dealt with disappointment before in her short life, but somehow, it's never quite hit her like this.

Regardless of how her conversation with the Grey Warden went, by the time she's left the Gallows and made her way outside again, her disappointment has transformed itself into an all-consuming, despairing ache in her heart, and the tears she'd thought she'd finished crying before are threatening her again in earnest. Humiliated and furious at herself--what a stupid thing to think she could do in the first place--she finds an isolated part of the pier and sits down on it, face pressed into her hands.

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Garahel nuzzles her, content to give comfort as best he can, though knowing him he'll probably try to sneak Fern a treat sometime later. Hopefully she likes balls of yarn or pantaloons.

Realizing it's a bit awkward to stand while the rest of her company is sitting, Inessa consents to do likewise, though she still makes certain not to crowd the girl. Besides, Garahel's a good cuddler, she can let him take that role. "I...don't know what's wrong, but if you cannot bring yourself to talk about it, we can simply be here." No pressure.

"I can't be a Grey Warden."

The words are small and tiny, like her voice as she says them. Fern rests her cheek against Garahel's warm shoulder and idly scratches him behind his ears while staring out across the water. Even saying the words makes her chest grow tight, her throat aching from the effort it takes not to cry again.

"...I came all this way--I didn't even tell my parents I was going, I just left, then I caught this stupid thing in my hand--" She clenches her hand into a small fist around the anchor mark in her left palm. "...I'm so stupid."

"No, you're not." Garahel grunts his agreement, though it could also be contentment from the scratching. Maybe both. "You couldn't possibly have known the state of the Grey Wardens when you arrived, and that our order is less able to play the savior role than usual. I can't share any more details than what you've been told, but...if this were a true Blight, if our order was more unified, I know you would have been accepted. And you still might, at a later time. Those doors will not be closed indefinitely, though for now...I can understand the reasoning for doing so now." If she was entirely certain that the commanders would refuse, Inessa would have warned against it...but there seemed a slim chance of Fern overcoming the odds.

She wants so desperately to be angry at Inessa for those words, for dangling hope in front of her with assurances of 'one day,' and 'if only,' but when she turns to frown angrily at her, all she can see is the serious earnestness in her friend's face.

The anger deflates from her; she's too fatigued from all her tears to summon up more intense emotion anyway. Sighing, she wipes her eyes off on the back of her sleeve. "Maybe," she agrees weakly, then lets her head fall to rest against Garahel again.

She's quiet for a few more seconds, then admits timidly, "I didn't even tell my parents where I was going. I just--left. Figured I'd write them after I joined up, share the good news. Now..." She looks at the anchor on her hand. "I can't even go home, now."

Fern's brief anger is noted and Inessa wouldn't have flinched if it needed an outlet, but she accepts the quiet as well. Garahel doesn't move, not wanting to disturb Fern when a doggy pillow is necessary. Glancing to the glow in Fern's had, Inessa nods. "That's unfortunately true, but you can tell them you're working with the Inquisition. They need good people like you, and unlike the Grey Wardens, are actively recruiting right now. You can still make a difference, even if it's not what you thought it would be."

"Doing what? I can't do anything." It's a miserable thing to recognize about oneself, that actually all of the skills you've grown so proud of actually pale in comparison to the talent of the people who surround you. Someone a bit older might see it as an opportunity to change and grow--but Fern is young, and sheltered, and supremely unhappy.

She stares down into the water. "I never should have left."

"I can't judge that. I did much the same as you, actually." Inessa smiles briefly, shaking her head. "When the Circles fell, I...did not want to fight, not mages or Templars. I wanted to join the people who saved my life and my Circle, during the Blight. It seemed fitting to return the favor, as much as I could."

If she'd known then what she does now, it might have been very different. Inessa looks as though she's about to say more on that subject, but thinks better of it. There's much she's not at liberty to say, and that Fern doesn't need to be burdened with. "That is not an unfixable state of affairs, I promise. If you lack the training, there are many here who can teach. What interests you, Fern?" Perhaps it's better to start there, and see if see can help guide her towards a

"What interests you, Fern?"

What's more embarrassing, to admit that she just doesn't know, or that the only thing she's ever truly wanted to do with her life is become some silly storybook hero? Self-consciously, she glances Inessa's way again, then reaches up a hand to wipe away the last of her tears; at least she's managed to wrestle those under control for now.

"I don't know, really," she decides to say, and bites her lower lip. "...I can garden, fix most things." A small shrug.

Inessa nods encouragingly. No start is too small, and she can definitely see worth in that path. "Sina is our Head Gardener in the Gallows. If you want to learn from her, she would have much to contribute. Her cousin is the Master Builder, I think? If she's not the person to speak to regarding repairs, then I believe she would know who that would be. It's alright to take matters one step at a time. You do what you can, when you can." Garahel grunts in agreement, giving Fern a lick.

Unexpectedly, Fern seems to brighten when Inessa mentions Sina. "I've met her," she says, "Sina, I mean. I saw her in that Chantry garden up in Hightown." Theirs had been a rather idyllic meeting, now that she thinks back on it; rather without her permission, she starts to blush a bit. (Someone has a crush~)

"It's alright to take matters one step at a time. You do what you can, when you can."

Those words, and the affectionate lick to her cheek by Garahel, finally seem to break the maudlin spell that has fallen over her since receiving that awful news from Alistair. She even manages a little laugh, eyes finally less heavy, and offers a smile to both Garahel and Inessa. "...thanks."

That blush doesn't go unnoticed and Inessa smiles, though she won't tease or prod at such a delicate moment. And since they've already met, it will be a bit easier for Fern to speak to her about professional matters. "You're welcome, Fern. I truly hope you find a path you enjoy, whether it's eventually with us or not."

Garahel barks happily at that, and Inessa reaches into her satchel, producing a treat since he's been such a good boy. "You should join us at the kennel sometime soon. I hear we're getting a new litter of pups, just weaned. Garahel absolutely loves playtime with young mabari." It's the cutest thing, and she firmly believes no one can be sad for long, interacting with such energetic adorableness.

"I do like dogs," Fern replies, her little smile warming a bit more at Garahel's enthusiastic bark. She gives him another fond scratch under the chin, and tries not to sound too hopeful when she asks, "Maybe one of them might need a new home...?" Rooster will undoubtedly be jealous to share her time and attention, but the stubborn old mule will get over it.

Garahel loves treats, but he also loves getting his chin scratched, so he can delay for one, closing his eyes and letting out a content sound. Inessa nods, suspecting that particular goal will be more easily achieved and might help Fern feel more at ease besides. "Precisely. And once they decide who to follow, that's it. You have a companion and protector for life. If you wish to visit with us, we tend to go just after breakfast."

"Would you go tomorrow?" she asks, already latching onto this idea with some enthusiasm, though she recognizes the likelihood of one of the pups wanting to come home with her is quite low. Besides, Sina had said she didn't like them much--

--still, it can't hurt to go look at them, can it? "If you go tomorrow," she says, "I'll go with you. If--if that's okay."

"It's entirely okay. What do you think, Garahel? Tomorrow?" The mabari responds with some enthusiastic tail-wagging, always happy to play with the pups. "I believe he agrees. Tomorrow, it is." Will there ever be a time when she comes to think that mabari can't cure every mood? Probably not.

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