[OPEN] And so become yourself

[wheretheferngrows]

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!)

Comments

[wheretheferngrows]

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?"

[bad_thief]

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?"

[wheretheferngrows]

"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.

[bad_thief]

"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."

[wheretheferngrows]

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.

[bad_thief]

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.