and you understand black implies white

[foundmyselfagain]

WHO: Gareth and a bunch of people, and also YOU??
WHAT: Meeting new people and making friends (with varying degrees of success)
WHEN: Now
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: If you'd like your own prompt, just let me know!

[Anders]

When Gareth enters the infirmary, he's visibly nervous. His eyes dart around, take in anyone lying around in the cots, and he relaxes by a hair when he's gotten a good inventory of who's here. The Templars aren't always in uniform, Kostos had said, but if they're in here, they're too busy being sick or injured to worry about him.

"Hello?" For a moment, he thinks about making a joke, Hello, yes, I cut my hand off after all, can I get a baggie for it?, but apparently no one here appreciates his cutting wit. And he doesn't want to piss off the healers, when he needs something from them. "I haven't cut off my hands, for the record."

Close enough.

[Myr + Fern]

Gareth isn't dumb enough to try experimental magic on the actual garden proper, not when so many people have put so much work into it. So he finds a patch of earth that hasn't anything but some grass and weeds, and asks Fern and Myr to meet him there. A few stomps on the ground confirms that it's hard and compacted, like most ground this time of year.

"So, what I was thinking--Stonefist is a spell that gathers a bunch of rocks and sort of...shoots them up through the ground at your target." He demonstrates with his hands as he speaks, expression contemplative. "Usually, you just kind of...shove the rocks back down when you're done with them. But I was thinking, I can probably alter the spell so the rocks just land on the topsoil. That should remove any rocks from the ground, and break up the earth enough for planting."

He glances at the two of them, looking excitedly eager. How long had it been since he'd had a chance to do this? Experiment with magic just for the sheer wonder of it, just to see if it could be done.

[Thranduil]

Ah, the fancy offices, for the fancy people. He remembers these. They're a little less daunting this time around, though he's still wary as he approaches Thranduil's office. The new boss is either a rifter or a Dalish, apparently, and either way, Gareth is as curious as he is cautious. Arriving at the door, he gives the door frame a quick knock, staying outside until invited in.

"Hello--Ah. I'm Gareth, Ser." He bobs his head polite. "I've just joined the research division, and I thought it'd be good to meet you, if you'd like." Look at him, all polite and accommodating. This isn't so hard.

[Open]

Plenty has changed since the last time Gareth was here, and he takes his time trying to get reacquainted with the Gallows. He wanders the library, examining the titles and thumbing through books that look interesting. In the practice yard, he doesn't actually participate, but sits off to the side and studies everyone practicing. He's careful never to stare too long at one person, and has a bag of dried fruit that he digs into whenever anyone bothers to look over at him.

And sometimes, he just hangs out in the courtyard with a book, enjoying the sunlight while it's here.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

There's a kettle by the fire on a hook, removed easily enough with a rag wrapped around the handle and poured into sturdy ceramic cups. It's an herbal blend, something vaguely floral, and does about as much to distract from his elveness as the tapestry of the Inquisition symbol on his wall done up in embroidered leaves and vines.

"As long as the work is done well and on-time, I can hardly fault you for a lack of enthusiasm," Thranduil notes. "I am far from unreasonable."

He sits back in his chair, mug balanced on his knee.

"Do you have any questions?"

[foundmyselfagain]

He is very elfy, and while Gareth doesn't really have much of a problem with elves, he is--very elfy. And tall. What kind of world goes around letting elves tower over everyone else? Are their qunari all up to your nose in exchange?

Gareth has a host of questions he wants to ask Thranduil--That was his name. Why is he so tall? Does he hit his head on the doorframe? How does he feel about blood magic? What is his opinion on mage dominion? But he doesn't ask any of them.

"Do you assign research, or is there a list to pick from, or do we just get to choose...whatever we want? Within reason." Yes, he'd like to study the affects of a diet of meat on nugs and see if he can turn them into carnivores. Or, you know. Not. "And how do you monitor our progress? Do we send you weekly reports?"

[rowancrowned]

“I assign,” he has the final word, at least, though he hasn’t said no yet, most of the division having been in place when he arrived and beyond his approval. “—voiced as suggestions, naturally. I would loathe for someone to find themselves in a position they were wholly unsuited for.”

He shrugs his shoulders, and makes it look elegant.

“As long as it furthers the mission of the Inquisition. And—it depends upon the person. What did you have in mind?”

[foundmyselfagain]

It's hard not to feel underdressed, around this man. He imagines he would even if he were wearing clothes that hadn't seen years of hard wear. As it is, he's starting to feel a bit like an urchin that wandered in.

Which. Isn't far from the truth.

"Well, I've been working a bit with Myrobalan on how to utilize magic for practical daily life." It's probably not what Gareth would research if he had free, unrestrained reign over the topic, but he can always look at the sketchier things in his free time. "It's a good way to make people less afraid of mages. And for us to prove that we're invaluable."

He hesitates, wonders--and decides that it won't be out of line to state the most basic of his beliefs, things that he has already openly stated. His eyes turn to Thranduil's, sharp and intense, despite his shifting in his seat. "It's the best way to make sure that they don't want to lock us up again, after everything is said and done."