Travel; When Morrigan came to Kirkwall with Kieran, she took the long route. Neither her nor Kieran were strangers to long treks, among the last to depart Skyhold for a journey through the Dales, into Orlais, and then into Kirkwall stopping wherever they would to rest as far from the beaten track as they needed. Not this short crossing by sea that makes her more uneasy than people are likely to have seen Morrigan before. Her temper more likely to fray, to snap. Not seasick but restless.
Where does one go on a ship even if she might fly away from all that troubles her? A ship is a small thing compared to the world.
Once they're able to be on the road she makes her own little camp, shifts her skin to catch her dinner or to prowl since there's only Sundermount and this is different again. Some nights there's the soft chatter when it's late but not too late of her talking to Kieran, his excited hushed voice over the sending crystal or the scratch of her quill when she sits sheltered by the fire, grimoire on her lap still ploughing through her work.
Shopping; Large as Nevarra is, close to Orlais as it is, her travels never took her here before. To many places, certainly, not all of them entirely of this world but Nevarra is something else, and she's quite delighted by it. Maybe it can be written off as being away from Kirkwall (doesn't everyone know she hates it there) or how much she hated the sailing but Morrigan's smiling a small little smile as she stops at some of the stalls in the market, lifting this thing and that.
"'Tis a far cry from Orlais," she says to one woman with an array of rings with various decorated skulls on them. "I do like it."
Sometimes though she isn't buying for herself but for Kieran; weighing up a book on dragons or a dark tunic to decide how long before he's going to grow out of them. (There's an archery glove, she isn't unaware of Alistair's latest gift to him, but she knows so little of archery that she'll need someone to actually give advice on that.)
City; Having time away from Kirkwall and Sundermount means time to just wander around without being so much of an oddity; does a witch stand out in a city of Mortalitasi with people enacting plays in the streets? Hardly. It means getting to slip off to where the Tevinter influence is strongest, again with her grimoire in hand as she's done in so many ruins in the past or through forests on her travels.
Thinking mostly of what the shaman said to her, she's looking for anything that stands out about dragons or constellations in them but she stops at columns, at anything that catches her and settles for as long as she needs to sketch them out with notes to be chased up after unless someone happens upon her who knows what she's looking at. For once it's refreshing to not be the expert on matters.
Closed to room; No one she knows in the room, and hardly her preference to be sharing but they're adults. (One she knows of. Chevalier, that they're good only for lighting on fire same as baronesses are only good for being frozen in blocks of ice.) But well, she can deal with this.
There's a spiderweb on the bed she's claimed, her strange-looking staff propped against it.
"What division and projects are you part of, if I might ask?" She doesn't know much about any of them and well, she was ever curious.
Morrigan
When Morrigan came to Kirkwall with Kieran, she took the long route. Neither her nor Kieran were strangers to long treks, among the last to depart Skyhold for a journey through the Dales, into Orlais, and then into Kirkwall stopping wherever they would to rest as far from the beaten track as they needed. Not this short crossing by sea that makes her more uneasy than people are likely to have seen Morrigan before. Her temper more likely to fray, to snap. Not seasick but restless.
Where does one go on a ship even if she might fly away from all that troubles her? A ship is a small thing compared to the world.
Once they're able to be on the road she makes her own little camp, shifts her skin to catch her dinner or to prowl since there's only Sundermount and this is different again. Some nights there's the soft chatter when it's late but not too late of her talking to Kieran, his excited hushed voice over the sending crystal or the scratch of her quill when she sits sheltered by the fire, grimoire on her lap still ploughing through her work.
Shopping;
Large as Nevarra is, close to Orlais as it is, her travels never took her here before. To many places, certainly, not all of them entirely of this world but Nevarra is something else, and she's quite delighted by it. Maybe it can be written off as being away from Kirkwall (doesn't everyone know she hates it there) or how much she hated the sailing but Morrigan's smiling a small little smile as she stops at some of the stalls in the market, lifting this thing and that.
"'Tis a far cry from Orlais," she says to one woman with an array of rings with various decorated skulls on them. "I do like it."
Sometimes though she isn't buying for herself but for Kieran; weighing up a book on dragons or a dark tunic to decide how long before he's going to grow out of them. (There's an archery glove, she isn't unaware of Alistair's latest gift to him, but she knows so little of archery that she'll need someone to actually give advice on that.)
City;
Having time away from Kirkwall and Sundermount means time to just wander around without being so much of an oddity; does a witch stand out in a city of Mortalitasi with people enacting plays in the streets? Hardly. It means getting to slip off to where the Tevinter influence is strongest, again with her grimoire in hand as she's done in so many ruins in the past or through forests on her travels.
Thinking mostly of what the shaman said to her, she's looking for anything that stands out about dragons or constellations in them but she stops at columns, at anything that catches her and settles for as long as she needs to sketch them out with notes to be chased up after unless someone happens upon her who knows what she's looking at. For once it's refreshing to not be the expert on matters.
Closed to room;
No one she knows in the room, and hardly her preference to be sharing but they're adults. (One she knows of. Chevalier, that they're good only for lighting on fire same as baronesses are only good for being frozen in blocks of ice.) But well, she can deal with this.
There's a spiderweb on the bed she's claimed, her strange-looking staff propped against it.
"What division and projects are you part of, if I might ask?" She doesn't know much about any of them and well, she was ever curious.