faderift | [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!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Fern still has her hackles up, but the longer he stays put there on the ground, the more certain she becomes that he isn't that much of a threat--though she's sure she's right that he's up to some kind of mischief she wants no part of. Glaring at him, she darts a quick glance at Rooster, and is relieved to see that her mule doesn't appear too distressed. (Annoyed--the weird human didn't even give him an apple before falling on his rear--but not distressed.)

That's when she finally notices the spilled coins all around him; her anxiety creeps in again. That's an awful lot of coin for some scrawny shem boy to be carting around on him in the middle of the night. She's heard stories of highwaymen who kill witnesses to their crimes to cover their tracks. Sizing Haelan up, he doesn't exactly look like he's capable of killing anyone... but one can never be too careful.

"You--you stay down there," she warns him, though there's a slightly nervous tremble to her voice now, her eyes growing just a trifle afraid. "Go away!"

She's a mage. A mage with a great big heavy bit of wood that could be used as a club, and she's scared of him?

He makes no move to get up, or even try and collect the spilt coins. Not yet, not for a few more minutes. He wants to be certain he isn't going to just topple over again. And he wants to make sure he can find all his pennies too. He isn't leaving them here for her to steal.

"You want me to stay down here... and go away?" He asks, not shouting this time, but slightly amused, "You're going to have to pick one, serah."

He spooked her, okay, cut her some slack.

"Yes," she blurts out, frowns, then amends hastily, "No--you know what I mean!" Clearly he doesn't, or he'd have done it already. "Just don't--don't come up here." She looks again at all of those spilt pennies and asks suspiciously, "What're you doing with all of that coin anyway?" Who just carries that much money around with them in Kirkwall?

He laughs, not at her, exactly, just because she's flustered. He guesses she was sleeping up here, and didn't expect any company.

Not that he was trying to be company!

"What coin?" He asks, although he knows he's denying the obvious. Even he can see the light glinting off the coppers. There's not actually much money gathered in that pot, but it's all loose change he's scrapped together.

Well, some of it. He's not dumb enough to keep it all in one place.

He shifts, reaching out to pull the pot closer. Thank Andraste that it's not broken. It's just the contents that are everywhere. Still, he thinks he can see most of them.

"These coins? Oh, these. Well... I... was putting them... somewhere safe."

Which is true. It just sounds stupid.

He better not get any ideas about trying to be 'company' in the future, that's for sure.

As for the rest, Fern squints down at him with a thoroughly unconvinced scowl settling in and making itself at home on her face. She looks from Haelan's face to the pot he's tugging towards himself, to the bits and pennies scattered around the floor.

She eyes him again. "...Are they yours?"

He really is not even considering it. He couldn't be less interested in keeping company with her if he tried.

He shifts again and starts picking up the coins from the straw and dirt. Better to have dirty money than no money. He can spend it even if it's got straw stuck to it, but he doesn't want to spend it. He's got to save something, for a rainy day.

"Cheeky! Of course they're mine. Is that big stick yours? Sure you didn't steal it?"

"It's a staff," Fern snaps back testily, adding, "and I'm a mage--all mages carry staves around, that's perfectly normal." If, you know, you consider being a mage to be normal. Which she does. There's a bit of defiance in her expression when she looks at him now; go on, just dare to call her abnormal for being a mage. "Anyway what sort of person just creeps around the stables at night lugging a big jar of money around with them?" That's weird.

Edited 2017-09-22 22:40 (UTC)

"Yeah yeah," He sniffs. He knows what a staff is, thank you. He might not be a mage, but he does understand things like that. Mages have staffs, Templars have lyrium and things like that.

"Someone who doesn't want nosy mages stealing from them, that's who!" He bites back, feeling better now and gathering as many of the coins as he can.

"You never had to hide anything from anyone? Must be nice to live in your world."

That barb strikes home in a way his others hadn't, and for a moment she's startled into silence. No, she's never had to hide anything the way he's probably thinking--but she is an elf, a refugee, an apostate mage. The only thing she's ever had to hide is herself.

It's difficult to wrangle all of those thoughts into one succinct barb to fling back at him, however. Instead, her startled look gives way to another black glare, and she bristles. "Are you leaving yet?" she snaps at him.

He ignores her as he continues to collect the pennies, putting them carefully back in the pot. It's not a big pot, not by any stretch of the imagination but you can at least get a decent amount into one.

And slightly less now than before as he's bound to have missed some of the coins. But what can he do? He can hardly borrow a candle or sit here till dawn.

He sighs to himself, and gives in, finally getting to his feet.

"I'm not planning to spend another minute with you, don't you worry about that. You're a terrible host."

And with that he's gone, disappearing out the barn door and putting it shut as hard as he can behind him.

[OPEN] And so become yourself

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