faderift | I Said What What

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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.

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Cyril sees Sam and of course has to come by and bother him. As he approaches he was smiling, but at seeing how tense Sam looked he wasn't sure if everything were all right. The smile was replaced by a look of concern.

When he was finally close enough to see what Sam was looking at he recognized the ass in question and went from concern to puzzled.

"Is that...?"

Naturally, Sam isn't alone in noticing it. Korrin, who'd approached to say hello, just...stops and stares at the bronzed ass decorating their headquarters. Her gaze falls to the inscription and she makes a sound halfway between a choke and a chuckle.

"...wow. That's...um, eye-catching. Nice and shiny." There's a lot she could say, and probably will, but sheer astonishment hasn't opened those floodgates juuust yet.

Whenever she comes across Sam is a good opportunity to talk with him, so even though Christine saw him recently, she won't pass up the chance to start up another conversation. Seeing what he's looking at, she lets out a little laugh of disbelief on her approach.

"Who would hang up such a thing? It must be one of my people who made this-- Wait. Is that your name? Is this...? No!" Her eyes have just scanned across the plaque and now she's looking up at him in shock, before a slow smile starts curving across her face.

It's not that Sam's ass draw the eye. It's actually much worse than that-- there are times of day when the autumn sun slants into the bronze cups like a perfectly laced beacon, so that the light, richly golden-bronze, reflects directly into Sorrel's face. It's impossible not to notice. And, once you notice the enshrined imprint of a grown person's ass upon the wall, you might ignore it once.

Oh yes, even then you might ignore it.

But the second time ? The third? After a day's time, you'll grow weak, your resolve will crack, and you'll read the plaque proudly declaring this to be...

"Samouel Gareth?" It takes him a moment to realize-- oh creators. Oh no. That's Cyril's human, "Samouel Gareth?"

Why this? He wouldn't have expected this in anthing but a bad joke. It probably would have gone something like, does everything you touch inevitably lead to bronze-plated ass trophies, Cyril?

Apparantly, it does.

".....But why?"

Standing in front of it probably was only making it more noticeable, but he cannot help but be transfixed with his current... issue.

His back stiffens slightly, knowing it was Korrin who was joining him, seeing her larger frame out of the corner of his eye, but he stays quiet. Maybe if they both stayed quiet- Nope, never mind.

Sam gives a loud sigh, shoulders slumping. "An Orlesian made it," he says, as if that explains the whole issue.

It's bad enough that he can see his name on the plaque, but when it starts being said out loud? Sam's hand travels from his mouth to his eyes, lips pursed. When his name is said again, like it was stabbing at his gut, his shoulders slump.

He's not sure who the person is, but Maker have mercy, did they have to read it out loud?

"That's... a very good question."

Sam doesn't have to look to know what kind of face is probably on Christine's face. For that he dutifully keeps looking forward and his face slightly upturned to hide the red on his cheeks behind his hand. He's seriously considering stealing it and melting it down at the forge and just paying for the "damage".

"Some Orlesian artist made it," he confirms, at least the first part. He refuses to comment on whether that is or is not his name staring right back at him.

"No..." Even as he says that, Sam continues to stare at it.

Nope, that isn't what you think you are seeing Cyril. And that isn't his name written there.

Sina is doing Sam a kindness by being bedridden in the infirmary instead of appraising his bronzed backside in the hall, and he would do well to recognize that.
She's been here about a week now, with a fever that keeps coming and going, and a cough that gets uglier with each passing day. There's nothing really to be done, apart from letting her sleep and dumping medicinal teas down her throat, but occasionally she'll lie awake and sleepily watch Sam, smiling at him if he looks her way.

"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!

It does, and Korrin snickers as she looks it over. "I'll take a well-bronzed ass over status of Maferath or whatever. It's lovingly detailed, too. You should be proud."

She claps a hand on his shoulder, not even entirely teasing. If it was her ass up there, hell yeah she'd brag about it. No shame.

Well, he has been more proud of his ass as of late, but having it on display like... this was a bit much. At least for him; he knows Korrin would be proud showcasing.

"I just... I can't figure how they got it so detailed." As detailed as a butt could be, but still. "I don't remember modeling or even putting my butt in something to make a cast."

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."

He is very glad that there is a chance to get away from the whole bronzed rear debacle, though that seems like it will be short lived since word is getting around; he's already found a few people whispering while looking at his butt. Or could he just be imagining things? Hm. Well, he tries to put that out of his mind for a while, he was here for Sina after all.

Since it had already been about a week, Sam decided to place some plants around the room. They were mostly elfroot, but he remembered that Sina enjoyed greenery and the garden - he still remembered housing some of her plants back in the armory. It's after some time that he eventually notices that he's being watched and turns around. "Afternoon. Did you sleep better?"

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."

"You sure? Not even unintentionally?" She eyes the bronzed ass, tilting her head. "You gotta admit, they're pretty persistent...and detailed. Has Kirk seen this yet? Because he really should."

And if Sam wouldn't tell Kirk himself, guess who'd be generous enough to do it for him.

"I don't recall putting my butt in anything unintentionally either." He's seriously drawing a blank here, trying to figure how it was done. "I mean the artist didn't mention how he got it in the letter he sent me, informing me that this had been... donated." This was probably going to drive him nuts, but at the same time... maybe it was better that he didn't know.

Sam blinks when Korrin brings up the Rifter. Now that he thinks about it... his hand is over his eyes this time, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "He probably really shouldn't," he argues. Dear Maker, he would be here all the time.

Of course Kirk had seen the delightful impression of Sam's ass cast in bronze. Of course he had. He may or may not have gently run his hands over it from time to time in some weird good luck ritual (like Buddha belly), but he had specifically not mentioned to Sam that he had seen it or knew about it.

He came down to the stables to see to Atlas, catching sight of Samouel as he rounded a corner. Smirking to himself, he walked up behind him, reaching down to place his hands over the curve of his rear, making a humming noise as if debating something.

"The likeness is uncanny."

Edited 2017-10-21 04:04 (UTC)

"Are you sure?" Cyril asks, not really believing it. After a moment, he look a step closer. "I want to touch it."

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."

Sam may or may not have jumped and gave a restrained yelp when a pair of hands suddenly grabbed his backside. Seeing as he was engrossed with trying to get Conan to stop eating his shirt, he hadn't noticed someone coming up from behind; the nuggalope seemed un-phased by all this and continued to nibble.

Mindful of Conan's horns, Sam turns around to face Kirk, face bright red from the sudden assault. "Jim-!" he starts then suddenly stops, mouth snapping shut as he registers the statement. Did he-? Nooo. "Likeness to what?" He's just going to double check if this is or is not what he thinks it means.

".... NooooOoooo...?" He doesn't sound sure of himself and he really isn't clarifying if he's just repeating the word or answering the next question. He definitely wants to deny it, but it's hard to do so.

With Cyril moving closer to it, Sam blinks and looks at him. "Why?" It seems to have suddenly dawned on him that people could actually touch it.

Edited 2017-10-21 04:23 (UTC)

"You know what," Jim smirked, not at all apologetic as his hands remained planted on the two shapely bits of muscle. He even gave a little squeeze for good measure, comfortable with such a gesture as they were relatively alone in the stables as far as Kirk had been able to tell (unless one counted the animals).

"They even captured that cute little dimple."

If possible Sam's face turns another shade of red, lips pursed and eyes wide as Jim gives his rear a squeeze and mentions a detail he hadn't known he had - or maybe he had and just forgot because Kirk certainly enjoyed talking about it.

"You are overly thrilled by this," he states. He's not asking, he know Jim is just by that smirk. "How long?" It was obviously a matter of time - the man had like a butt sensor or something.

"Because I want to see if it feels like the real thing?" Cyril asks. "I could have one hand on it and one hand on the real thing and compare."

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