[OPEN] build a bridge or maybe two

[wheretheferngrows]

WHO: Fern + various starters and OPEN
WHAT: Catch-all for the month of November.
WHEN: Early through mid-November.
WHERE: Kirkwall and the Gallows
NOTES: None yet.

I. AT THE DOCKS (ARACELI AND KORRIN)


The trip from the Gallows to the Kirkwall docks isn't a very long one, but time feels strange to Fern lately, like it travels at a different speed while she's seated at Sina's bedside. Sitting in the boat while the ferryman pilots their way across the channel towards the city, she looks pensively out across the water, then towards her new friend seated beside her. She fiddles with the end of a lock of her hair, chewing at the corner of her mouth.

"Thanks," she says after a pause, "for inviting me to dinner."



II. TRAINING GROUNDS (NELL)


It's startling for Fern to realize that actually, she's quite good at offensive magic.

The training grounds are mostly empty this morning, which gives Fern plenty of time to work through the small selection of spells that Nell has given her to work with, so far. The fire spells are the ones that come most easily to her, she's discovering, whereas her attempts at an ice wall generate something that more accurately approaches a drift of slushy snow. Nell hasn't, strictly speaking, given her any instruction in how to tackle electricity spells yet... though that doesn't stop her from deciding to attempt one.

Realistically, it could have gone much worse than a bit of a shock, and hair that now stands on end as though subjected to too much static electricity.

Fern hisses and shakes out both of her hands, which still smart from the backfired spell, and hastily tries to comb her hair back down into submission before Nell shows up.



III. GWENAELLE'S HOME (GWEN)


While hardly Fern's first visit to Hightown, this is the first time she's ventured anywhere near the Vauquelin estate--and today, she's meant to walk right up to the doors and request to be let inside.

Or, well. To the front gate, as it were.

That's where she hovers now, a bit after the prescribed time that she was meant to arrive for her lessons but nevertheless present, with an effort made to appear washed and tidy. She even took a bit of care tie her hair back from her face with a bit of satin ribbon, and has some of the wonderful writing supplies gifted to her tucked into the satchel slung over her shoulders.

She's as ready to learn as she's going to get. ...Now, if she could just sort out how to get past the front gate.

"Um. ...Hello?" she calls out.



IV. THE LIBRARY (SIMON + OPEN)


(OOC: The thread with Simon is closed, but other characters can pop by at other times!)

Apparently if Gwen and Nell have nothing else in common with each other, they're both proponents of this cruel mode of torture that is apparently called 'home work,' and Fern doesn't like it at all.

She's sequestered herself in a corner of the library where she's fairly sure she won't be bothered by the mean little scholars who gave her such a hard time earlier in the summer--but frankly, the books open in front of her are doing a better job of reminding her of how stupid she feels than anything those other teenagers might have said. She sits with her arms folded over her chest and a black scowl bending her brows into a dark furrow, all of her fancy writing utensils and tools for learning resting, elegant and untouched, on the tabletop.

"This is so stupid," she says to--well, no one, really. Exhaling, she picks up the pen like it's the hardest thing in the world to make herself do, and just fiddles with the end of it, popping the cap on and off again.



V. THE STABLES (MELYS)


It's pissing with rain one night after Fern slinks into her chosen hideaway after a day spent at work in the gardens, at her training with Nell, and working on her letters with Lady Gwen... and, as usual, an hour spent sitting quietly at Sina's bedside. It's like entering a different world, crossing the threshold of the infirmary to keep a vigil by her bed, sometimes with Nari, sometimes alone. (She stays away when Sorrel is there. It seems wrong, otherwise.)

Tonight, a bit sodden to match her dismal mood, she's warming up with a mug of tea and a blanket slung round her shoulders, alternating between feeding bits of dried fruit to Rooster from her palm and stroking his nose affectionately.



VI.  THE CHANTRY GARDEN (OPEN + ELLANA)


(OOC: The thread with Ellana is closed, but other characters can pop by at other times!)

Fern promised she would look after the garden for Sina, and so that is what she's going to do. The trouble is, she hasn't quite dealt with <i>this much</i> much before, much less on her own.

She's brought a small kit of gardening tools with her, as well as her sturdy boots and gloves (and a small lyrium potion, just in the event she needs to lend some strength to her creation magic for the task ahead). Now she stands in the middle of the garden, looking around in vulnerable awe at the growth her friend had created. The leaves that remain are a greyish brown, but when she rests a hand against the trunk of a nearby tree, she can feel the pliant, living strength of the wood and bark. It's only sleeping; in spring, it will be whole again.

That's more than can be said for Sina. Fern squeezes her eyes shut, squares her shoulders, and sets to the task of cleaning up the dead twigs and branches from the forest floor.



VII.  WILDCARD (OPEN)


(OOC: Surprise me! Or hit me up on plurk if you want a specific starter.)

Comments

VI

[justice_is_blond]

He's got a sack on his back, and for once there's no cat present as he passes through the gardens. His robes are even drab, olive green and browns without embellishment, and there's not even a staff on his back. But he's smiling despite the lack of usual accessories, and as he sees Fern his expression brightens even more.

"Fern!" He detours over to her. "Are you busy? Would you like to meet a griffon?"

[wheretheferngrows]

"Would you like to meet a griffon?"

Fern is elbow-deep in garden soil and so lost in thought that she startles when Anders calls out to her, whipping her head back around to blink owlishly at him. "What--a griffon?" she starts, a slow smile chasing the shock off her face, and starts up to her feet. "Really? I mean--am I allowed? Since I'm not a Warden, I mean."

Nope. Nope. She's not bitter about that at all. (...All right, she is, but not at Anders.)

[justice_is_blond]

"Of course. I'd not invite you if you weren't." Anders tilts his head in the direction he's going. "Anything you've got on that's shiny will need to go in a pocket or pouch; the griffon I work with is fairly well behaved but there's always the chance of another swooping in."

He knows the Warden comment is probably still a sore spot and it makes sense, but he'll just... let it pass. There's no need to call attention to it.

"Buggy is a bit of an attention hog, so you'll want to mainly pay attention to her," he says as he starts to lead the way.

[wheretheferngrows]

She's glad, for the moment, not to have to think about the Wardens--or Sina, though it makes her heart ache to admit that to herself. Grieving is an exhausting task.

When he mentions the griffons' proclivity towards picking at shiny objects, she gives a snort and falls into step next to him, dusting more dirt and such off of her hands and leggings. "I definitely don't have anything like that," she replies--then remembers the bit of satin ribbon in her hair, a gift from her division head, and frowns. She starts to tug it loose and stuff it into one of her pockets... just to be safe.

"I didn't think griffons were real anymore," she starts as they walk along, giving him a sideways look. ...Is he trying to pull a fast one on her? "Are you sure they're really griffons?"

[galvanising]

She hasn't quite had time to manage it by the time Nell shows up, stepping over the melting slush pie on her way. She glances down at it, momentarily confused--it's cold, especially for a Nevarran, but sure not that-- oh. She smiles, and then it flashes wider as she looks up and spots Fern's hair. "I did that so many times," she says, "Kostos even worse, I swear his hair stood up for a whole year just about when we were starting out."

"We can work on electricity today if you like. But first you've got to hit the bullseye with five fireballs, and hold a steady flame for two minutes. Yeah?" They've been working on control most of all. Nell's adamant about its importance, and each lesson she steps up the demands incrementally, a series of repeated exercises to begin and end each lesson, sandwiching new material in between.

Nell leans her staff against a bench and steps in the general direction of the targets, unbuttoning her coat and shaking out her arms. "What are you making of Emory's Enchantments?" she asks.

[wheretheferngrows]

Fern whips her head around, spots Nell, and blushes furious, but there's a tiny smile tugging up the corners of her lips as she does so. "Is he a friend of yours?" she asks, obviously referring to Kostos; better to get her teacher chatting about someone else, rather than how silly her pupil looks with her hair puffed up like an Orlesian lap dog. Fern finally fishes a bit of ribbon out of one of her pockets and uses that to tie her hair back from her face.

She nods vigorously at her first set of instructions and is already following along at Nell's heels towards the targets, but balks uncertainly at that question: "What are you making of Emory's Enchantments?"

Oh, bother. "Um," she begins smartly and cuts her eyes to the side; she can't very well keep up this pretence for very long, and she's frankly a terrible liar. Uncomfortably looking to Nell again, she mumbles, "I can't--didn't, read it."

[galvanising]

"Oh," says Nell, taking her meaning from the mumbling and general discomfort, combined with the fact that Fern's yet to seem the type to just skive off a lesson. She turns toward the targets, fixes her attention on them instead of on Fern, and flame springs to life above her hands, expanding and bending to shape itself into a ball. She holds it, not launching straight away, but also not focusing the whole of her attention on the magic.

"We'll have to find you a teacher," she says, casually, "Casimir could probably help, they made him tutor me when I first got to the Circle. I couldn't read at all and my Nevarran was terrible." She pauses, glances over her shoulder at Fern. "--I assume you want to learn."

[wheretheferngrows]

She flinches at that "oh", and takes a sudden interest in the toes of her boots. Is it strange to have wished for a bit of needling from her teacher on that subject? Of course she shouldn't wish to be made fun of, but it's so much easier to get angry at someone for being cruel, rather than... respond however it is she's supposed to respond, to this pragmatic non-judgment. She fidgets her fingers together.

"--I assume you want to learn."

"I do," she starts, then straightens her shoulders and asserts more firmly, "I already am, actually. I've got a tutor. She teaches me lessons, gives me homework--" ugh, "--and everything."

Her eyes are drawn immediately to the impeccable control Nell seems to exert over the ball of flame that flickers and bends menacingly in her palm, taking a few steps closer to regard it admiringly. "...Can I try to do that?"

i;

[foxsays]

Having a moment to simply sit down even for the duration of the ferry ride is a luxury right now. Running around to get her work done at the Gallows or elsewhere, to go home and make food for Korrin and Nari sitting with Sina when she goes to sit herself, Araceli doesn't have a lot of time right now to relax. The free hours swallowed up by worries faster than she can sort through them.

"You're always welcome Fern," Araceli replies, and though her voice is kind the smile is tired, more distracted than usual. "I can't remember everything in our kitchen right now but there's always something good, and right now, sitting down with a hot meal for a little while is what everyone needs."

Araceli needs someone she can feed that isn't going to waste away. Korrin needs to see another person that isn't dying in front of her. Fern needs to not be so close to death when she's young and should have the wind in her hair and turning her cheeks pink.

"Lux needs someone to fuss over him, he feels terribly neglected," she confides as if this is the greatest of secrets and not one of the most well-known facts about her spoiled fox.

[wheretheferngrows]

"Lux needs someone to fuss over him, he feels terribly neglected," Araceli tells her with such a twinkle in her eye that Fern has to smile a little, ducking her head and threading hair behind one of her ears. Her cheeks are already looking a bit windburnt. "We had to chase foxes away from the chicken coops and rabbit hutches, back in Ansburg," she tells Araceli thoughtfully, "but I always thought they were so pretty. Ma' would never have let me keep one though."

As the ferry comes closer to the docks, some of her smile begins to fade, guilt coming in to chase away the corners of her levity. She swallows, worrying her lower lip, and admits, "I feel--bad. Every time I think a happy thought, knowing that Sina is.." She trails off, predictably, and drops her eyes.

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin's similarly tired and distracted, recent events taking their toll, but she would never say no to Araceli having friends over for dinner (as long as they aren't Anders). Besides, her kadan is right. It will do them good to have a nice sit-down meal with someone, away from the healing tent. The fact that Fern has visited there as well hasn't gone unnoticed, and the Vashoth's smile remains warm as she shifts her gaze from Araceli to their guest.

It fades as she listens and lets out a soft sigh, nodding. "...I know. That happens to me, too. I just try to tell myself that holding back those thoughts doesn't help her any." If they did...but they won't, Sina's course is set and they all know it.

But foxes! Foxes are a much less depressing topic. "I swear he's the most spoiled fox in Thedas...but with a coat like that, Lux deserves all the attention he gets. I do try to give him brushings and toys more than treats, Araceli doesn't want him getting too fat." But it's hard, holding back when she knows he's watching her.

[foxsays]

The idea of Lux chasing a real wild animal would make Araceli laugh at any other time, today it gets a snort. "He'll chase a pretty girl he thinks might be a soft touch for all his sad looks or a bit of food you turn your back on but a supper he'd have to work for? No, he's far too much the gentleman." Until he goes rolling in dead seagulls or fences with crabs blocking his path on the beach thank you very much.

"After Korrin, Sina was the first friend I made after I came to Thedas," Araceli says which isn't news to Korrin but will be for Fern. "She's always been a person who gives, much more of it smiling when wisdom would say she shouldn't. Life is to be lived. To go somewhere, to see something, to hear a tale, a song, meet a new person then tell a friend; a part of her is going to be with you after. She won't be...she won't be gone." Not easy to say now but easier to say with Sina still clinging to life, let her see what happens to the words that she can practice once she's gone and the next day comes, then the next.

Still, she's been here two years now away from loved ones. That's a grief in and of itself, not so easily understood as she slips coin into the hand of the ferryman to lead the way to an absurdly cheerful blue door. And right as the key slips in the lock, Lux comes barging out to investigate a new guest, a blur of black and orange wiggling fur.

[paladingus]

There is no particular reason why Simon is doing paperwork in the library today instead of at his own private desk. No reason at all, and certainly not one that has anything to do with mages who frequent the place. He is not planning to run into any small elven mages whatsoever.

But he'll take any who happen to be around, even if they are perhaps not the ones he totally wasn't expecting anyway. He's always pleased to see Fern without having to go all the way out to the stables for the privilege. "What's got you all riled-up?" he asks, signing an incident report with a lazy scribble.

Oblivious to her learning tribulations, his mind has not registered anything significant at all about her sitting there with an untouched pile of books and pens. That's just what mages do.

[wheretheferngrows]

"What's got you all riled-up?"

Moody and annoyed, Fern shoots him a black look that could only be conjured by a teenager. "Nothing," she mumbles defensively, drops her eyes, then sighs and props her face up with both hands. She stares down at her work, equal parts frustrated and perhaps a little intimidated. "It's just--this work, that's all. It's harder than I thought it would be."

[paladingus]

He's found that even when his smart mouth makes Fern glower at him, it's usually followed by the answer he wanted anyway, and so it's a conversational model he has opted not to fix if it ain't broke.

Still, the explanation prompts a frown of sympathy--he remembers it too well, being young and confined to a desk and keeping his head down with shame at his own confusion--and he tilts his head to see if he can make out the titles of the books.

"It's a rare lucky bastard that it comes easy to. I wasn't one of them either. But don't fret because you haven't happened on what you're best at yet. There'll be something."

[wheretheferngrows]

The titles of the books should indicate some of the trouble she's experiencing, for most of them are very remedial and designed for people who really haven't spent much of their life reading or writing. It's basic stuff about writing letters and understanding how they fit together to form words. Fern flushes with embarrassment and quickly tugs the books close to her chest.

"Well it's not reading, clearly," she mutters, still defensive, but there's no venom in her voice. Just shame that her ignorance has been caught out by someone she likes.

{ chantry garden }

[serannas]

Ellana doesn't have a green thumb, so she really has little reason to visit gardens. But today she finds herself wandering, deep in thought, and it just so happens she ends up here, spotting a person moving around the middle of it. On closer inspection, she sees it's Fern, so she pushes her own thoughts aside to give Fern a smile.

"Hey there. I don't have to ask what you're doing here," she says, nodding towards Fern's gloves. "Do you have experience with gardening?"

[wheretheferngrows]

She startles when she hears a voice behind her and quickly turns around, then smiles some when she spots Ellana. "Oh, yes," she replies, looking down to her gloves, as well as the bundle of twigs and branches she now holds in her arms, ready to be carted off for disposal. "I helped look after the crops on my family's farm, back outside Ansburg. And outside Denerim. ...and everywhere else we've been, to be honest."

She carries the branches over to a wheel barrow she's requisitioned for the purpose of her work and deposits them there, dusts off her hands, then peers back at Ellana. "Did you come out here to see the stones Sina laid here?" Her voice is a bit sad now.

[serannas]

"No," she answers honestly. "I don't know anything about stones. I've never been here before." Her green eyes lift to take in the vastness of the forest around them, blocking out signs of the city beyond. Ellana supposes if she missed the forest, this might be a place she'd frequent, but she doesn't. City life suits her just fine.

"I was just thinking and walking, and happened to end up here. Thought I'd take a look around. I can help you clean up some underbrush, if that's what you're doing."

[wheretheferngrows]

That response gives her a moment's pause, and she looks rather surprised by Ellana's answer. But her aunt often cautioned her against assuming much of a person's internal landscape just based on the responses they give you in conversation--and really, Ellana doesn't know her well at all, does she? It would make sense that she'd keep any feelings she has about Sina's situation to herself.

"...that would be nice, thank you," she replies when Ellana offers to help her tidy up some of the underbrush. She gestures over to the wheelbarrow where she's been depositing the other branches and twigs. "I'm just putting everything over there for now, until I can sort out what else to do with it. Do you like gardening too?"

iv

[thunderproof]

Adalia, on the other hand, feels most at home in the library. Granted it's not as big as Candlekeep, and granted it feels a lot more cold than Candlekeep ever did... it's still a library. Adalia was raised with books and librarians and quiet, and being here, doing research and taking notes, makes her feel a lot more like herself than she has in months. With Charis dozing lightly on her shoulders, she might even dare to call this her favourite place in Kirkwall.

She's been keeping to herself, reading Brother Genitivi's Kirkwall: The City of Chains and taking notes on everything she thinks a Rifter should know, but it's impossible not to notice the pouty little elf girl a few tables down, glaring at her books as if the force of her displeasure could set them on fire. Who knows, maybe she's a mage and it can! Adalia keeps glancing up, trying to keep the amused smile off her face, but the picture the girl paints is so familiar it's almost comical, and eventually Adalia gathers up all her things, nudges Charis to get him to take to the air, and walks over to the girl's table, where she spreads out all her things and takes a chair, entirely as if she had been asked to come over.

"I find studying is much more fun with a partner, don't you? What are you working on?"

[wheretheferngrows]

"Nothing," Fern starts almost defensively, and begins to shoot a moody look at whoever it is who has chosen to drop down into the seat directly across from hers, before her eyes widen a fraction and she fixates on the little dragon flitting through the air with animated interest. (Just visible on her left hand is a glove, barely muting a dull green glow from an anchor shard.)

"Is that--" she blurts out, awed, and scoots her chair closer to the table to get a closer look at Charis. Holy buckets she's never seen a dragon before, and getting a look at one up close seems to have completely chased away whatever sour mood she was in seconds before, judging by the smile starting to form at the corners of her mouth.

"Is it yours?" she asks, turning her very large blue eyes on Adalia next. Evidently full of questions, she blurts out a few more. "Maker, how'd you find it? Does it sleep here in the Gallows?"

[thunderproof]

It's probably unfair, given that Adalia herself doesn't seem to be all that much older than Little Elf Girl, that that petulant "nothing!" only makes Adalia's smile widen — teenagers are adorably pissy about everything, and it's nice to be able to see it in someone else rather than hate it in herself. When her attention is drawn to Charis instead, though, is when Adalia's smile goes blinding, and she pats the table in front of her. Charis alights there with a soft cooing noise, beginning to curl up to resume his nap.

"As much as a dragon can be anyone's, Charis is mine, yes. I rescued his egg from being destroyed, and now I suppose you could call me his parent, kind of."

Adalia reaches out and scritches behind the small horn growing back from Charis' head, and he leans into the touch, almost seeming to purr.

"He sleeps where I sleep, and for the moment that's in the Gallows. He's going to get big enough eventually I'll have to find somewhere else, but for now, and for the next few months at least, he should remain small enough the Gallows should do us fine. Do you want to touch him? He's very friendly, and if you don't trust that, very sleepy at the moment. He won't bite."

six hundred years later

[aforethought]

She’s around the stables often enough — less, now they’ve got that big painted woman watching over the lot of them, but sooner or later there’s always someone to go calling in accounts: Melys, what’s it you said you were gonna be doing for us now, again? Can only duck the obligations, set them against each other for so long before you’ve got to give in.

Besides, she likes the horses.

She’s around the stables often enough, but never this late in the evening. The creak of doors, the pad of feet signals her approach: Not the step of someone trying for silence; closer, maybe, to the absence of it. No reason to put on a show. Melys coughs, shakes the wet from her raggedy mane.

Soaked through and trying vainly to light the pipe in her teeth (flint won’t catch), it’s a moment before she notes Fern’s presence, eyes turned to her wide and red-rimmed and (briefly) unguarded. The shake of her head, away. She stops trying for a spark, holds her distance. No call to spook a kid.

"That one yours?"

It's hoarse. She’s not looking at Fern to toss the kit back in a pocket, to drag hand and pipe up through her hair. Steady. You’ve got to be steady around mules.

[wheretheferngrows]

When the doors creak open, Fern glances up from letting Rooster lip the fruit out of her palm. She recognizes Melys as much by her cagey body language as anything else, and starts to smile at her a little bit--but the expression stops just short of reaching her eyes when she notes the expression. The red-rimmed eyes--

"That one yours?"

"Oh," she starts, coming back to herself, and looks at her testy mule with both affection and frustration co-mingling together. "Yes, he is. He hasn't nipped you, has he? He's a bit of a tit."

As if to demonstrate this fact, Rooster swivels his large, rabbit-like ears backward and noses her hand firmly. where fruit ):