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WHO: Brother Jehan Mercier d'Annecy & You
WHAT: Chantry Brother doing Chantry Brother stuff
WHEN: Early Firstfall
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Will update.
WHAT: Chantry Brother doing Chantry Brother stuff
WHEN: Early Firstfall
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Will update.
I. Chapel
If the Inquisition's Kirkwall outpost were home to a Mother, even a Sister or two, then Jehan would leave the center tower's chapel—the large one, more ornate than the two in the mage and templars' residential towers, made for gathering rather than solitary quiet contemplation—to their direction.
But they don't have a Mother or a Sister at the moment, so when Jehan occupies the Chapel at his random hours, he acts as if he owns the place. Tidying, rearranging, smiling in greeting at anyone who comes through the door or asking if anyone who looks a bit lost needs assistance. The Chant isn't sung; he could give sermons, but he isn't that sort of Brother, and for full services Inquisition members will have to make the trek to the city's new Chantry and receive them from the clergy. But Jeannot does hum the Chant while he works, and he's authorized to take confessions.
He's also fairly seasoned in handling those who hear confession and think time to make a Chantry Brother blush, but you're welcome to give it a shot.
II. Elsewhere
Maintaining the chapel isn't his job, really. His job with the Inquisition is diplomacy—which on most days means sorting through letters to separate those that need to be escalated from those that only need a thank you or to be fed into a fire. His job with the Chantry and the University, the job he'll return to someday if the world doesn't end, is research. At present he's in the early stages of a proposal regarding a connection between the Empty Ones and the Order of Fiery Promise, in the midst of reading three different books on theology, and scouring a younger student's research on various Rivaini heresies and apostasies to provide comments before it's complete.
Which is to say: when he's not in the chapel, he's often in the dining hall or one of the offices, bent over a table, reading or writing, and overall not being a particularly interesting person. But it's one of the few times he can be found without Freddie or Val or both, because they are horrendously distracting.
He hums the Chant while he does this work, too, but in an idle way that often slides off into one Orlesian drinking song or another instead.
III. Wildcard!
If the Inquisition's Kirkwall outpost were home to a Mother, even a Sister or two, then Jehan would leave the center tower's chapel—the large one, more ornate than the two in the mage and templars' residential towers, made for gathering rather than solitary quiet contemplation—to their direction.
But they don't have a Mother or a Sister at the moment, so when Jehan occupies the Chapel at his random hours, he acts as if he owns the place. Tidying, rearranging, smiling in greeting at anyone who comes through the door or asking if anyone who looks a bit lost needs assistance. The Chant isn't sung; he could give sermons, but he isn't that sort of Brother, and for full services Inquisition members will have to make the trek to the city's new Chantry and receive them from the clergy. But Jeannot does hum the Chant while he works, and he's authorized to take confessions.
He's also fairly seasoned in handling those who hear confession and think time to make a Chantry Brother blush, but you're welcome to give it a shot.
II. Elsewhere
Maintaining the chapel isn't his job, really. His job with the Inquisition is diplomacy—which on most days means sorting through letters to separate those that need to be escalated from those that only need a thank you or to be fed into a fire. His job with the Chantry and the University, the job he'll return to someday if the world doesn't end, is research. At present he's in the early stages of a proposal regarding a connection between the Empty Ones and the Order of Fiery Promise, in the midst of reading three different books on theology, and scouring a younger student's research on various Rivaini heresies and apostasies to provide comments before it's complete.
Which is to say: when he's not in the chapel, he's often in the dining hall or one of the offices, bent over a table, reading or writing, and overall not being a particularly interesting person. But it's one of the few times he can be found without Freddie or Val or both, because they are horrendously distracting.
He hums the Chant while he does this work, too, but in an idle way that often slides off into one Orlesian drinking song or another instead.
III. Wildcard!
no subject
It's primarily a stalling tactic—looking at Casimir feels a bit like looking at a shoe and knowing a spider has been crushed beneath it, knowing the spider needed to be crushed, but nonetheless not wanting to see the smear, the signs of violence—but the faint air of surprise is genuine. Of course the Tranquil have some sense of self-preservation, and it makes sense for that to extend to the preservation of being after death, but—
—but he'd never considered it, before.
no subject
There was one once, he's certain. If there's one still?
I feel the Maker's absence like the vast certainty of stars, awaiting our eyes' revelation. He's heard them speak; of tranquil and souls. He's not felt any such intensity — presence or void — in six years. Above this stone, they stretch high and infinite, teeth in the mouth of god.
no subject
He looks down at the floor, intent on the dirt, which is at least visible and not purely an excuse.
"You have sacrificed a great deal for our safety," he says. "The Maker would not have you sacrifice eternity as well." Another sweep of the broom and he pauses, looking up. "There are converts among the dwarves, even in Orzammar. Brother Burkel, unfortunately..."
Unfortunately is about the beginning and end of what there is to say about what happened to Brother Burkel. He trails off there.
no subject
He doesn't. Not yet.
"I didn't know the Verses had traveled so far," Dwarves come from below in theory, from city in practice, and there's never been much cause to examine either. "Have you been, yourself?"
To Orzammar. The outside world is such a sprawling thing: The recollection of fright, of desert storms; later, Frid's hushed voice to pick their way around the fires on the road. It was as far to Kirkwall as it might be to Nevarra, to any other point on (under) the map.
no subject
And this isn't why Casimir is here. Jehan looks down at the floor and resumes sweeping it.
"The dwarves do not have to visit the Fade to follow Andraste's teachings or to be loved by the Maker, if they choose it, and they are not even His Children. You are."