faderift | [ OPEN ] The sky is on fire, at least that is the word out in the world

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[ OPEN ] The sky is on fire, at least that is the word out in the world

WHO: Adelaide LeBlanc and Various
WHAT: Adelaide returns to Skyhold
WHEN: mid Firstfall
WHERE: Courtyard, Library, Tavern, Garden, Battlements of Skyhold
NOTES: N/A, will update as needed

[ Courtyard A ]

The walk had been a long one. A long, boring, exhausting one- but one she'd made out to the mire and one she made back. Catching the odd ride from a cart on the way up the mountain had made stretches of it easier but her only concern now were a few requests and concerns as given to her by her students through the sending crystals. First thing was first: eat. Change. Rest. Then she could tend to the list of errands that brought her here.

Cloak dusted with snow and weight listing heavily against her staff with each step, she made a weary sight as she strode with unwavering focus to the Hold's doors. Students first, the rest would come later.

[ Gardens ]

Her concerns here were twofold- looking over the elfroot for improper trimming (recreational smoking, Andraste's ass, what were they thinking) and proper growth. Sleeves rolled up, hair bound back she knelt and checked every plant by hand to be absolutely certain, from root to shoot to leaf before moving on to the next. For elfroot, embrium, any plant with medicinal properties in the garden- and then a few that were not. The repetition and examination was soothing for her, a shred of familiarity that reminded her much of the time she'd done the same in the Spire's small garden.

Afterward- well. She began examining trees. For- meddling. Before seeking out a particular dalish mage. While it wasn't the only reason she returned, it had been a large part for her taking the walk back.

[ Library ]

Nothing on the plague as far as Bruce could tell while he was here- she hadn't passed him on the road but he'd indicated that he would be coming down to the mire to help when they last spoke. She did not doubt him his research- but the questioned and rather vexed swearing of the latest round of rifters had her seeking anything on the veil, the fade, and Tevinter magics. She could simply ask Dorian, she supposed, but his was more modern, less ancient. Mug of tea steaming at her elbow she picked through stack after stack of either horribly vague or horribly specific and useless information. Now and then she made a note or sat back, glaring at whatever she read, and muttered under her breath- "Bullshit."

[ Tavern ]

Evening found her at the tavern, eating with her students (glad for her return) and enjoying a solitary glass of wine. No books, no arguments over the state of the garden or the improper use of magic- just a meal. She might even be smiling ever so slightly while she listened to how they spent their days or the progress they've made in their studies in her absence. Now and then she wove her way to the bar proper to order another glass of wine for her other students or a mug of tea for herself, trying her best not to bump into anyone on the way there or back.

[ Battlements ]

Exhausted as the Mire had made her, long as her days have been, Adeliade did not find sleep easily. Between stress and frustration at not finding a cure or cause for the plague just yet or any manner of explanation for the rifters weighed on her more than it ought to. She never pretended to have the answers, never tried to know the whole of a problem. She was a healer and as much as it was in her nature to fix things- she wasn't certain if it was her own mind or Compassion that kept her from rest. Not wanting to bother her students (Roul minded the door in her absence) or anyone else for that matter, most nights found her on the battlements, bundled against the cold as she paced. Perhaps it would wear her out enough to sleep.

[ Courtyard B ]

Later in the day Adelaide can be seen coming up from a part of the hold, carting dust bins and cobweb covered brooms- more than a little dusty herself, and dumping the lot out, beating the broom against the stone side of the building, and taking a moment or two to enjoy the light and the fresh air before she wandered back down. Rinse and repeat, several times, until whatever room she was clearing out below was cleaned to her satisfaction. Needless to say it would take some time.

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[It takes him a couple of moments to answer, because there's a part of him that's trying to figure out what's even the point of smoking that stuff. Rather than ask, however, he simply decides to let that part of things go for now and focus on the question he's been asked instead.]

Ah, well.... I'm looking to do a little carving, actually. Nothing very large, mind, but it'd have to be a wood that's not too hard and not too soft. And ideally a wood where someone won't mind a few extra lengths being used for something maybe not so practical.

Mmm. I am a herbalist, not a carpenter- I fear I may not be the one to ask. I think it may depend on what it is you mean to carve? Most staves that are intricately detailed tend to come from... [ She peers around the garden, taking a few steps away to rest her hand on a tree. There's a moment where her head tips to the side and her eyes glow faintly blue as she consults with Compassion- but it passes quickly. ] Ones such as these.

[The blue glow in her eyes is a little unexpected, but not as unnerving as it might once have been. Even if he doesn't understand the specific reason as to why it turned up just then, he'll just assume 'magic' and leave it at that for now. He does follow her over to the tree, though, tilting his own head as he takes a closer look - the better to fix it in his mind.]

A wooden pipe. Er, the sort you play music with, not use for smoking. If this is what's used for staves it should work. I've not tried my at anything like that for awhile, though, so I'm not sure how well it'll go.

[It still could be worth a try anyway. If it can stand up to being carved intricately, he might be able to make other things with it if the pipe doesn't turn out.]

It'd be something to do when it's quiet. Keep my mind off...well, never mind. The practice couldn't hurt, surely.

Being away from home, this world's strangeness, the undead, the demons, the nightmares?

[ It is not always a pleasant place, Thedas. As of late it is less welcoming than normal. She can't imagine how different it must be from what Jamie is accustomed to, from whatever life he lead that helped him take this much in stride. Perhaps not so different, but perhaps it is not so dark either.

She offers a faint smile, a brief thing before her eyes turn back to the tree. ]

I think it would make for a fine pipe. Do you play often, back home?

Up until a few years ago, aye. I did. I was the piper to Clan McLaren, which is something my family had done for generations. Ah...slightly different sort of pipes, though. They're a thing called 'bagpipes', but as far as I know they don't exist around here.

[He'd tried to explain them to people, but pretty much all he'd gotten were blank looks, so he was figuring they fell under the category of 'weird things that only the rifters know about'.]

I played a bit after I started travelling, but there wasn't time for it so much then.

Bagged pipes? I think... [ Wasn't there a musician her sister mentioned in Starkhaven, attempting to garner interest in a bagged pipe? ] Perhaps I have heard of such a thing in the Free Marches but it is very recent a creation and has not, from what I understand, garnered much appreciation. Or my sister was pulling my leg which is equally likely.

[Bagged pipes sound as though it could be something that could be similar, although he wouldn't count on it being the exact same sort of thing. Still, it's the first time he's even come close to hearing that maybe, just maybe, there's something out there like what he'd grown up playing - and he turns away from his contemplation of the tree, a small spark of hope showing on his face.]

Really? Ah...don't suppose your sister mentioned what they happened to look like, did she? Think with a description I could take a guess if she was trying to have on over on you.

A billows in a bag with a flute that you did not blow into hanging off one end, a pipe you did blow into on the other, with little horns stuck in the back?

[ She gestures, vaguely, the size and shape of the thing her sister had described. ]

All done in plaidweave.

That part that's hanging off is a called a chanter.

[It comes across somewhat absentmindedly, an automatic sort of correction that stems from having explained it before, but there's a real excitement starting to cross his face. What Adelaide is describing is very familiar to him, and honestly something he thought he'd have to build from scratch if he wanted to see one again.]

And the horns are called 'drones'. At least where I come from. Maybe the pipes aren't always in plaidweave back home either, but I've seen a fair few that are. If your sister is pulling your leg, she's doing a very good job of telling you about something that actually exists. She's up in the Free Marches, then?

Why is it named after a member of the Chantry?

[ Wait- different world, it's likely that Jamie doesn't have a chantry wherever he is from. No Andraste, no Maker, no mages, none of this. For a moment she's overcome with a bone deep envy for that sort of world; one without a torn sky and demons and so much death.

It passes, she frowns a bit at the idea of such a thing in more than one world- but apparently it brings him joy to know of it. ]

It does sound of droning from what she wrote- and yes. Starkhaven specifically; the place you sound as though you come from.

Hey?

[It takes him a second for him to figure out what she's on about, because the word chanter has such a different meaning to him. But he realizes what she must mean, causing him to let out a nearly silent 'oh' and nod ever so slightly, mostly to himself.

And the important thing here, really, is that something very much like the pipes he's used to exist, even if it's in a place he's not even sure he'll be able to get to any time soon. It does make him that much more curious to see if he can figure some way to travel there at some point. Just to see the place for himself, if nothing else.]

Aye, well, they've got that name for a reason, but... [He can't exactly help but be pleased that something like that is here, too, and breaks out into a smile.] If that's true, I think they might actually be a real thing. You've no idea how glad I am to hear it, Adelaide. Even if it's in a place that's that far away.

I shall have to write her and let her know that there is someone here that knows how to play. It'll amuse her and might warrant some support for the Inquisition. [ a beat. ] She is terribly picky about where she sends her support. "Fighting for a good cause? Well that's lovely but what about their kitchens?"

[ As much and as little as she knew Marianne, she'd ever been like that. Quibbling. Nitpicking. The details make or break the entirety of a thing and to an extent this can be true. But for something like this? Why would the kitchens warrant support and the cause none?

She shrugs and makes a note to write that letter before the day is out. Maker only knows when Marianne will write back. ]

Something of a patron of the arts, or at least she pretends to be.

Oh. Aye, I see.

[He knows of the type - and that it's a tricky thing to try and get them to go along with something like sending support, unless you pander to their whims and phrase things in exactly the right way. That's a letter he doesn't envy Adelaide having to write, but he also knows she'd clearly be the best person to do so, given that it's her sister.

It doesn't mean he doesn't have any ideas of his own for things that might help, though, and a rather thoughtful look crosses his face as one or two of those spring to mind.]

Now, would it help any if you made me sound more, ah, important, as it were? That part I'd mentioned before, about being a clan piper. It meant I used to play for the laird- er, lord of the clan. Being the clan piper's quite prestigious where I come from. If she finds out she's helping someone who comes from a respected musical family, that could make a difference, maybe.

...You know- that would almost assure some manner of positive response, if not a gift to ensure you can do much the same here in the Inquisition. What manner of pipe she'll send along I cannot say but-

[ It could be a pan pipe. It could be a bagged pipe- bagpipe? Pipebag. It all eels so strange to think about. All the same it will be nice to use her family connections to the benefit of someone in the Inquisition.

Once they're aware she's alive, after all. ]

Or several. Having a noble connection in Starkhaven may be to the Inquisition's advantage.

Aye, maybe it would be, come to think about it.

[Politics have never really been something he could say he's had a strong interest in, but he has run across them enough times during his travels that it's not too difficult to see her point. He can't say as he'd mind having something to play again, even if turns out not to be a bagpipe. And when it comes down to it, it's a small thing to do on his end, something he can to try and help the Inquisition. What's the worst thing that could happen, anyway?]

Tell you what, then. If you think it'll help the Inquisition, you're welcome to mention that in your letter. Even if she decides not to send any sort of pipe at all, I don't think doing that'll hurt anything any.

It cannot hurt to make the attempt. She's some sway in her circles, it would be worth looking into, provided she'll have the time to respond. I think I recall her saying something it is a bit of a busy social season in Starkhaven this time of year.

[ And with the sky opening up, the war, the civil disputes in Starkhaven-

She'd rather not get her hopes up. But a letter shall be sent. ]

Honestly if you wish to know what wood would be best- I'd recommend asking one of the Dalish. They've a sense for such things.

Aye, I can ask Ellana, maybe.

[Or Sina. Either one of them would have some sort of idea what would work, surely. But he's grateful to Adelaide for her advice - and for telling him that there may be pipes out there. Even if he never sees one, it helps just to know that it's possible. It's a large part of of why he gives Adelaide a brief, but very warm smile.]

Thank you, though. You've made me...aye, well, never mind that. Did you want some help with the pruning? I've not done that sort of thing for awhile, but I can get the hang of it again soon enough.

She would be happy to offer her expertise. And I am happy that some news of Thedas has helped with your homesickness. Finding anything familiar when you're without can...I am glad to have helped.

[ Even if it is only a small thing- it is something that she's done that has made his stay here a little more bearable. It's well worth doing. ]

I would appreciate that, mostly we are checking the cuts to make certain they're done at an angle so the elfroot may continue to grow. Straight across or ragged and it limits the regrowth.

Aye, well, it's not as though I've not been plenty of places where things aren't so familiar before. You get used to dealing with that sort of thing after awhile.

[In his case by drawing comparisons to the things that he does know. So even if the pipes turn out not to be exactly the same, he can probably do something similar enough that it'll work, at least in his mind. For now, he takes a moment to look around for something he can use to fix the cuts in case they are off. There's a pair of pruning shears nearby, and he goes to pick them up and bring them back to where Adelaide is before gesturing to her to show him where she'd left off with the plants.]

So how have you been, anyway? I keep meaning to come track you down and see but I've not had the chance to lately. Sorry about that, by the way.

To be quite frank? I have been better- and I have also been worse. The Council is...attempting to form and work for the betterment of mages; I've more questions than answers in regards to the plague and illness we've seen in the Mire, I've a new patient that is going to waste away to nothing no matter what I do and while I am accustomed to handling such things it does weigh upon me more than I should like; perhaps because he has been so kind, there is a new templar in Skyhold that brought Tranquil with her which addresses another layer of unpleasantness in this world and our mutual failings that looks at mages as though we are subhuman and I've not had to endure that since I was a child, someone is trimming the elfroot in the garden improperly to smoke for fun, and I still cannot sleep.

[ That- came out in a rush and was far more than she wished to say to anyone, let alone to Jaime. This isn't his world, these concerns are not his, and simply venting them all on someone that had neither the context nor cause to care is unworthy of her. She pinches the bridge of her nose in order to collect herself.

Takes a deep breath.

And attempts to speak again. ]

Stressed. I have been. Stressed.

[That did come out in a rush, and it leaves Jamie blinking just a bit more rapidly for a few moments as he tries to sort through everything that's just been said. There's questions that spring up from it - like why a council and what's a Tranquil, to start. But it's the part at the end where she states she still cannot sleep that gets him to take a step forward, a look of concern etching itself into his features. Maybe he doesn't have the context to understand most of what she's said, but it doesn't mean he doesn't care. And, accordingly, he reaches out a hand to brush against hers, offering the small comfort of human contact if she wants to take it.]

Aye, I can see that. Look, why don't we let the elfroot be for a bit and we can see about getting you some tea, instead. Think you could use a bit of a break right about now.

[ She flinches, hand twitching away from the brush of contact- even though it's only Jamie. Even though she knows it is only Jamie and for a moment she hates, viciously, this lingering ghost of the Spire. ]

I'm sorry- it is not you. [ And she isn't certain how to explain it. She turns her hand, reaching out to squeeze his. It's faint and brief, but it is a reciprocation of the comfort he'd attempted to give. ] Tea and some time would be lovely, yes.

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[ OPEN ] The sky is on fire, at least that is the word out in the world

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