faderift | I Said What What

WHO: Samouel Gareth and OPEN
WHAT: Not amused by certain works of "art" and everyday life in Kirkwall
WHEN: Mid-Harvestmere on
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Whole lot of arse

I. Another Man's Treasure is Another Man's Arse

Sam groaned lightly in distress under his breath, hand purposefully resting over his mouth in thought, as he stared at the newest piece of art that had been hung in the Inquisition's headquarters. It was a "generous" gift to the Inquisition, or that was what the letter he received that morning said, informing him of it's addition - the writing had been very Orlesian and very, clearly, excited.

Even if it wasn't on display in the heavier trafficked part of the room, the gleam from the bronze certainly did its job in drawing the eye and thus negating any attempt in trying to hide it in plain sight; it didn't help that it was positioned just so, so that the light reflected on it during the day, and at night there was a torch to do just as much.

There hanging on the wall was a bronze casting of an imprint of an ass. HIS ass. He doesn't know why such a thing exists, and doesn't know how the artist had managed to even get it. Sam even questions if it is actually his ass - course he's not about to see if there is a fit - but it really doesn't matter because the plaque clearly states his name.

II. Whistle While You Work

The majority of Sam's work consisted of helping patients at the infirmary, the work load seemingly having increased with the weather getting colder. From time to time there would be a serious injury, but for the most part it was mostly someone needing something for a cough or a cut. Being a healer was easy at those times. There were the times though where it wasn't so easy, namely the more recent incidents where the locals were being slightly hostile with the increase of Rifter leadership; and still expecting you to treat their wounds while they did it.

In Sam's other line of work there was less exposure to that sort of thing, mainly because customers weren't allowed to get close to the forge, and partially it seemed like a bad idea to get close to a man hammering hot metal. Despite it being tough physical labor, the mage often favored those moments where he could get away.

III. Stables

Whenever he found time in the week, Sam always made a point in going to the stables to spend time with Conan. While the stable-hands were taking good care of him, the nuggalope still preferred it when Sam came to give him attention. The mage always felt bad that they weren't out riding as much as they were back in Skyhold, but with how the locals were acting lately it was safer to go on those sporadically, in case anyone was trying to figure out a schedule. For compensation Sam always made sure to bring extra treats and long brushing times, which in turn always earned him getting his shirt chewed on by Conan.

IV. Wildcard

Have another idea? Hit me with it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"From your derrière, or so the artist claims. Did they really managed to get a mold of your rear end?" All right, she tried, but now she simply can't contain herself anymore. Practically shaking from her amusement, she starts laughing until she's doubled over and clutching her stomach.

"I am sorry-- it, it is not that funny, but, but..." And she dissolves into laughter again. His ass is on the wall!

When Christine starts doubling over Sam finally looks away from the butt to look at her, brow raised in curiosity; this was the first time he's seen Christine laugh so hard. To be honest he probably would find this amusing himself, but seeing as it was his butt and labeled for all of the Inquisition to see he wasn't finding it just yet.

"I'm trying to figure that out myself," he says, still watching. "I don't remember anyone getting a mold."

If he spent more time around her and Church, he'd see her laugh like this. Their relationship wouldn't have lasted as long as it has if Church wasn't able to make her completely lose it with laughter.

Straightening up, she wipes the tears from her eyes and takes several deep breaths before she has control of herself again.

"Do you not recognize the artist's name? This is something you should speak to them about to get answers."

Really? He knew Church made her laugh, but he thought it was something else that was really keeping it going this long. Least that's what he'll jokingly say, not what he actually thinks.

"I met him... once perhaps? I didn't really talk to him. He also sent me a letter informing me of the donation of the work. I suppose I will have to write him and find that mystery out."

"I would, if I were you," she says, since she would be horrified if it was her rear end up on the wall. For some reason, when it's happening to someone else, it becomes funny. Hysterical, even.

"I can say I have never seen your rear in such detail before."

Was it more hysterical because it was his ass on the wall, Christine?

"Probably because I wear pants. You know you can't say that anymore though, right? You've gotten a pretty good look now."

Maybe a little bit.

"That I have," she says, exhaling a short laugh. "Oh, Sam, as much delight as this might bring me, surely there is something to be done about it? Can it perhaps be returned?"

"I don't think we'd hear the end of it if we tried returning it." He can just imagine the outrage that would come from the artiest already - in his head it sounds a little like Valentine coming back saying he wasn't dead.

"I'm seeing if it can be taken down or re-located - like in a closet or something. Or if anything if they could at least take the name off? I'm sure word has already gotten around, but at least that would... help."

"That is true." It's said with a slight sigh of disappointment in her own people. If there's one thing she knows from her mother's letters, it's that the woman refuses to let things go, and that's standard for Orlesians. Of course, Christine can be the same way, only she doesn't recognize it in herself because Christine Delacroix is perfect; didn't you know?

"A closet." She sounds amused. "But how will the sunlight reach it there? It will not look half as good if it is not a shining ass."

It was standard that a lot of people didn't let things go, Orlesians just did it in their own special way.

Sam scoffs at that statement and crosses his arms. "Are you suggesting my butt is only half good looking without the light of the sun?"

"Are you saying that insults you?" Because really, Sam, no need to worry about her buttpinion. (That's an opinion about butts.)

(You don't say.)

"I'm trying to figure if I should. After all you did just say a shiny butt is better then a none shiny butt, and I'm sure my butt doesn't shine." Perhaps his butt will get offended to be upped by an impersonator.

"Yes, but why get upset over what I think of your rear end?" She shakes her head and smirks. "Never mind. I do hope you can get this taken care of."

"Only because I value your opinions with the highest regard." Alright, maybe not the highest, because there were others who were more fond of his butt, but still.

"As do I. At least maybe getting the name scratched off."

"Now there is an idea. Surely you have some sharp, pointy blacksmith's tool that can make quick work of this?" Either that or a dagger could come in handy.

"As tempting as it is, it behooves me that I probably shouldn't do it without permission. It's not worth getting into trouble over... my own ass." And you know the gossip would go around just like that, and then he'd be getting weird looks in the streets because they thought it meant something else.

He's probably over thinking it.

"Could probably bribe someone to do it..." he mutters to himself, rubbing his chin.

"Well, whatever you decide, do let me know the results." As hilarious as this is, she doesn't want to stand around Sam's ass all day. Anyone who does would need to get themselves a hobby. She, on the other hand, has work to do.

"Good luck, Sam," she adds with a pat to his arm.

Well he could give you two people who would, Christine, and he's pretty sure that is their hobby; it's only a matter of time before they find out about this, too.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to keep you updated."

Now who was in charge of stuff like this...

[OoC: Good wrap up]

I Said What What

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