"Not everyone who comes out of the alienage who does't look it wants people to know. Dwarves don't always want you knowing if they ever came from Orzammar sometimes, other times yeah, they don't shut up about it but y'know, family…" It'd be easy to blame the intake of breath on the cold but it sticks in him. Saying that word. "Family just gets uncomfortable for some people, s'not always on them. Just is what is."
Which is why Yngvi eats until he's done, listens carefully, nodding along because it's always what happens in a poor place where the lumber is crap or the walls get damp, where you can't really build outward because someone decided however long ago 'this is how much of our bit of the world we've alloted all of you' even when they're all scrapping over borders. No matter how much of Orzammar ever got reclaimed each Blight, each push into an old forgotten Thaig, it wasn't as if the Dusters were ever going to see a speck of that. It'd be the Castes who saw the room to spread out, to stretch.
"Foundry District gets a bit like that, probably worse there and in Lowtown for all the places I didn't recognise since we came back. At least in Darktown you don't really build as such. It's there. You carve? Dig? Dunno, you don't build from it just scrape out what there is. Must've been bad if you and the neighbours didn't get on - they'd just go upstairs and lob something at you if you went up for a bit of peace or so you could talk shit 'bout them." That's what'd happen to Yngvi who doesn't always keep his mouth shut, can you even imagine the carnage?
Sometimes, Yngvi does all he can not to remember his childhood. Pushes it down. Stuffs it in boxes that he wraps chains around to lug down to the docks to sink. Other times he trips over something that isn't so bad. "There was always damp in Darktown, when the doglords came over after the Blight they made it worse. Not that it was good but if you grow up with it, you know how to live with it but they came, got sick, spread that everywhere. People still cough more than I remember." The humans had all clustered round a human mage healer. (He'd blown the Chantry up.) "Herbs grew in places though. Mushrooms. Just by the stairs. In little corners. It's how my brother picked up alchemy because there were things he could use to start. Some elves were down there too but...s'pose it was just a different sort of same to the alienages." Now that he hears it from Herian at least. Maybe it was just wanting to make the choice. Wanting to pick somewhere for themselves instead of accepting it when they'd crept into Darktown instead.
"Wren." Shit, wait, hang on excuse the look of panic because the cold makes his memory slow to catch up with him but that's too familiar by half-- "Ser Coupe. We doubled up back in Skyhold and it stuck. She's...she's been good to me. Better than most everyone else." Recognise the knitwear from the Coupe Winter Collection Herian?
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Which is why Yngvi eats until he's done, listens carefully, nodding along because it's always what happens in a poor place where the lumber is crap or the walls get damp, where you can't really build outward because someone decided however long ago 'this is how much of our bit of the world we've alloted all of you' even when they're all scrapping over borders. No matter how much of Orzammar ever got reclaimed each Blight, each push into an old forgotten Thaig, it wasn't as if the Dusters were ever going to see a speck of that. It'd be the Castes who saw the room to spread out, to stretch.
"Foundry District gets a bit like that, probably worse there and in Lowtown for all the places I didn't recognise since we came back. At least in Darktown you don't really build as such. It's there. You carve? Dig? Dunno, you don't build from it just scrape out what there is. Must've been bad if you and the neighbours didn't get on - they'd just go upstairs and lob something at you if you went up for a bit of peace or so you could talk shit 'bout them." That's what'd happen to Yngvi who doesn't always keep his mouth shut, can you even imagine the carnage?
Sometimes, Yngvi does all he can not to remember his childhood. Pushes it down. Stuffs it in boxes that he wraps chains around to lug down to the docks to sink. Other times he trips over something that isn't so bad. "There was always damp in Darktown, when the doglords came over after the Blight they made it worse. Not that it was good but if you grow up with it, you know how to live with it but they came, got sick, spread that everywhere. People still cough more than I remember." The humans had all clustered round a human mage healer. (He'd blown the Chantry up.) "Herbs grew in places though. Mushrooms. Just by the stairs. In little corners. It's how my brother picked up alchemy because there were things he could use to start. Some elves were down there too but...s'pose it was just a different sort of same to the alienages." Now that he hears it from Herian at least. Maybe it was just wanting to make the choice. Wanting to pick somewhere for themselves instead of accepting it when they'd crept into Darktown instead.
"Wren." Shit, wait, hang on excuse the look of panic because the cold makes his memory slow to catch up with him but that's too familiar by half-- "Ser Coupe. We doubled up back in Skyhold and it stuck. She's...she's been good to me. Better than most everyone else." Recognise the knitwear from the Coupe Winter Collection Herian?