faderift | [OPEN] And so become yourself

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[OPEN] And so become yourself

WHO: Fern + OPEN
WHAT: A catch-all kind of post for mid-September.
WHEN: A couple weeks before the island adventure, about a week after her last open post.
WHERE: Around Kirkwall and the Gallows, specifically the stables, the herb garden, training grounds.
NOTES: None currently, will update as needed. Also, if you'd like a specific starter, please ping me on plurk or discord and we can set something up!

I. THE STABLES

Fern likes the stables. It's the smell, she thinks--not that she's particularly taken in by the stink of horse manure or anything, but horses and dogs and animal smells in Kirkwall aren't so very different from those same smells back in Ansburg (and, more distantly, Ferelden). That's probably why, although the Inquisition has given her a place to sleep in the mages' tower in the Gallows, Fern prefers to bunk in the hay loft above Rooster's stall. It's a bit drafty at night, sure, but still so much easier for her to sleep here, with the animal sounds and the soft, ambient glow of the outdoor lanterns spilling warmly through the windows.

This is where she's sleeping one night when the sound of the stable doors opening wakes her up. Blinking sleep out of her eyes (and plucking some hay out of her hair), she sits up underneath her blanket and steals a tiny peek over the edge of the loft, trying to see who it is who's come to snoop about the animals so late at night. In his stall below her, Rooster swivels his large ears forward and drowsily sticks his head out of his paddock, curious.

II. THE HERB GARDEN

She tells herself that she isn't just spending her free time loitering about the Gallows herb garden because she's hoping to casually run into Sina here, but that's probably a large part of it.

Nevertheless, now that she's spent enough time here to develop a sense of familiarity with the plants, it's not that much of a hardship to go about the process of watering the plants that need it, harvesting from those at risk of going to seed, and placing a few warming glyphs near the summer plants that are at risk of dying when the temperatures dip at night.

At present she's up to her elbows in dirt trying to salvage a few wilting elfroot plants.

III. THE GALLOWS TRAINING GROUNDS

It feels profoundly unfair to Fern that even after being told no by that Senior Grey Warden, after crying in front of a bunch of complete strangers, after trying so hard to find other ways to keep herself occupied and make herself useful, she still ends up hovering on the outskirts of the training grounds when she doesn't have anything else to do.

It's afternoon on an unseasonably warm day; no one particular group has reserved the grounds for a session, so it's a mish-mash of soldiers, scouts, Templars, and other sorts (including, yes, probably some Grey Wardens) who are making use of the facilities now. Fern sits off to the side in a patch of shade with a sewing needle and some of her own worn socks that are in need of mending; with some longing, she watches the Wardens at their work--then stabs the needle through her sock grudgingly. (take that, alistair.)

IV. WILDCARD

(OOC: Surprise me!)

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The Stables

You'd think that the Inquisition would have had more guards around, especially at night. But actually, if the guards on watch are semi-familiar with your face, they leave you alone. Which is pretty damn useful if you have some stuff you want to shift.

Haelan has poked around over the last few days, and got used to the layout of the Gallows inside and out. There are several useful places a person might hide, or might store stuff out of the way of prying eyes. The Stables are one of those places, with a lovely big hayloft above the stalls, and as the animals aren't being fed hay yet, no one goes up there. Perfect!

Apart from the door squeaks when it's opened, which sets his teeth on edge. He should have oiled the hinges first. Duh. Too late now though, and there's enough of a gap for him to sneak in, and then stop, letting his eyes get adjusted to the gloom. It's not that dark, not with the lights outside, but it's certainly darker than the courtyard outside. There's a donkey looking at him, but the rest of the animals are too drowsy to be interested.

Within a moment he's moving again, towards the ladder that leads to the hayloft, shifting something under his ragged cloak so he climb with one hand. He'll stow the stuff somewhere out of the way, under some of the hay and straw, and in a few weeks come and shift it again. It's pretty much fool-proof.

People who are up to no good have a specific way of moving that makes it pretty clear that they are, indeed, up to no good. Squeezing through an open door to prevent it from making more noise when it opens is one indicator; sneaking into the stables late at night without showing any interest in any of the animals or tack is another. This intruder clearly isn't supposed to be here.

And he's heading right for her ladder. There are lots of reasons this could spell horrifically bad news for her.

Fern fumbles quietly under her blanket for the leather grip of her staff and, finding it, shuffles to the top of the ladder. There she proceeds to panic a bit more; the only offensive spell she knows would burn the bloody barn down. She settles instead for hissing down at him, "You come up here and I'll clobber you right in the skull!" and holding up her staff meaningfully.

He'd minding his own business. It might not be honest business, it might not be legal business but the fact of the matter is that it's his and not hers.

But Haelan is clearly not expecting voices from on-high. As soon as she stsrts he looks up with sudden fright and losses his one-handed grip on the ladder.

"Oh shite-"

And then he's on his back on the floor, the jar of copper coins he'd been carrying spilling it's contents amongst the dirt and straw.

He groans, blinking up into the dusty ceiling and the spots the girl looking at him from the hay loft. He doesn't see the staff, not in the dim light. Otherwise he would have high-tailed it out of there as soon as he had the chance.

"Why in the Maker's name did you do that? Could have killed me!" He says, slowly sitting up and running the back of his head.

And is that donkey grinning at him?

Rooster is most definitely grinning at him. The mule lets out a low baying noise, ears swept back, and stomps one hoof irritably against the ground. Around them, the rest of the stable animals are rousing, too, including a few flustered chickens who cluck anxiously in their bedding.

Unaffected by Haelan's outrage, Fern fires right back at him, "What d'you mean why'd I do that--what are you doing here?" She scoots quickly to block the top of the ladder, 'lest he get any more ideas about coming up to the place where a young girl is sleeping, alone, in the middle of the bloody night. Maker, why does he think she threatened him?

"If you were up to anything good, you wouldn't have come sneaking around here in the middle of the night! I ought to shout for the guards is what I ought to do--or--or hex you!" She holds up her staff menacingly--or, well, she attempts to be menacing, but truthfully she looks more like she's partly hiding behind it. A bit like a very small cat backed into a corner, who is nevertheless going to hiss and spit and scratch the shit out of whomever tries anything first.

Haelan does notice the staff now, and the glowing green light in her hand, although it's about as bright as one of those firebugs. If he had any sense at all, he would leave, quickly, before the crazy girl turns into a demon then and there, but the fall and the spilling of his coin horde and her shouting has really got his back up, and shouting back at her seems like a great idea.

"I certainly wasn't coming to see you!" He snaps back. "You need your head examining, jumping out at people on ladders! How was I meant to bloody well know you were up here, huh?"

He shakes his head, and while that clears some of the blurred vision, it doesn't clear the bits of straw from his curly mess of hair. So he picks that out, half expecting to see blood, but he's not that badly hurt. Not that he wants to stand up just yet. He feels a little bit unsteady, and the last thing he wants to do is fall on his ass in front of this girl. She looks about his age, and girls spend a lot of time laughing at him. He doesn't want to be laughed at.

She doesn't mind the smell of the animals, but do the animals mind the smell of her?

the world may never know

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Two - two - two thieves poking at her in the hayloft for the price of one.

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stables;

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stables

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the herb garden

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herb garden

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