faderift | OPEN ↠ HARING EVENT

OPEN ↠ HARING EVENT

WHO: All
WHAT: WINTER IS HERE
WHEN: Haring 15-Wintermarch 1
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: You can use this post as an event-style mingle log, or just use it as background information for your RP elsewhere!

It's been a chilly month already, but in mid-Haring the temperature suddenly plummets. One day it's merely cold, and the next morning the Inquisition wakes to frost on the inside of the window panes and an icy draft whistling through every crack in the tower's masonry. Downstairs, the pipes that feed the bathing chambers and the kitchens creak in the walls, loud enough to be heard even out in the courtyard, where they run beneath the stones, and around midday, when the sun has failed to raise the temperature above freezing, a blocked pipe finally gives, cracking open to spill water across the central court and send it running down side passages. The whole area floods several inches deep and almost immediately begins to freeze, presenting at first a gigantic, treacherous slush puddle and, after a few hours, a sheet of sheer ice.

Melting a safe path from door to door and laying down sand or wood to keep it from becoming slick again is a simple enough undertaking, but before the entire courtyard can be thawed, someone appears with ice skates—and that’s a better idea, surely, for at least a few days. Anyone who complains about the frivolity can be assured it’s good exercise, not to mention good training for a force that may have to travel or fight on ice in the future.

Temperatures remain cold enough that even some parts of the harbor begin to freeze, first just at the calmest edges of the shoreline, and then the more protected nooks and crannies of the bay, inlets and the spaces between piers and beneath docks. It snows most days--not real storms, just a couple inches here and there--little enough for the window to blow most of it off the icy plain of the courtyard and other wide open, paved spaces, accumulating on branches and in alleyways, and creating growing drifts in corners and against walls.

After a week or so actual chunks of floating ice begin to fill the narrow channels of the harbor, threatening smaller and less-sturdy vessels, and the situation in the poorer parts of the city begins to grow dire. With the Viscount's blessing, Inquisition teams (particularly mages) are called in to help. Some are assigned to the docks, to clear ice that makes landing and unloading treacherous, others to help escort ships into harbor by melting a path ahead. Others are sent into Lowtown to clear ice and snow and to provide warmth and medical attention where needed. At least one mage is sent with each team, and while many neighborhoods are pleasantly surprised and grateful for the quick work fire glyphs make of cold hearths and frozen streets, a few are unable to overcome their distrust, and refuse the teams entry, determined to take care of their own without the help of dangerous outsiders.

In the last week of the year, a true blizzard strikes, snow falling steadily for more than a day, blanketing the city at least three feet deep. Digging out the Gallows will be a group effort, and most non-essential trips outside the base will be cancelled for a few days until travel is less difficult, while those who reside in the city or elsewhere may be encouraged to stay a night or two in the fortress so they might continue to work without traveling through the storm. But on the first day of Wintermarch the First Day feast goes on as planned, with modest but plentiful food and ale served in the Gallows' dining hall for anyone who wishes to celebrate the new year.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"At your service." He said a bit bashfully with an awkward half bow. "I am glad you enjoyed yourself and also remained uninjured."

He lets his arm fall down to his side again. "I look forward to our next meeting. I am sure you will have more stories from your adventures by then."

"Adventures around the city," she stresses. "I'll still be around here if you'd like to meet up sometime." Taking a seat on one of the bottom steps, she works to remove the skates to leave them for someone else with her shoe size.

"You know how the crystals work, don't you? I'm only a message away."

He stood as she unlaced the skates, and then peered down at her questioningly at her question.

"Crystals?" he asked while rubbing the back of his neck a little. "I...tend to stay away from shiny baubles if possible. After the silmarils and the rings of power, I hope you don't blame me. What power do these crystals posses?"

"Oh, I see." Setting the skates aside, she pushes herself up, thick socks just managing to keep out the cold clinging to the stone steps.

"They let us talk to each other over any distance." Reaching inside her coat and under her scarf, she pulls out a golden locket on a long chain. Clicking it open reveals a small crystal inside.

"You speak into it, and you can hear the other person's voice come through. The Inquisition issues them to anyone it houses."

He moved closer to her in an effort to examine the crystal. After inspection, he gave a nod and then a sudden realization hit him. He rummaged in one of the pouches he has hidden in his armor, and pulled out a similar one. it was roughly cut, nothing like hers, and it wasn't mounted to anything, rather just a loose stone.

"I did not believe this to be of any wealth when it was given to me, nor was it's purpose explained. My apologies. Would you...teach me how to use this? I find it quite intriguing." He looked up at her, and then at her feet, which were bundled in thick socks, but still very much susceptible to cold.

"It could be at a later date as well. You have already helped me quite a bit. If you are tired, I can leave you be. I will retire to my...lodging...shelf." He didn't really know what to call the place he only used when his body couldn't go on anymore. He did not live there, nor would he call it a home. And really he was in no hurry to return there due to the fact that is was likely covered in snow, and very cold indeed. He grimaced a little at the thought.

"Oh, I don't mind doing it now. We could go inside." She nods her head up the stairs before beginning to ascend them, though she gives him a curious look as she does so.

"A shelf? What do you mean by a shelf?" It doesn't sound familiar to her. Galadriel has never referred to lodgings as being a shelf. How strange.

He continues behind her, unsure of what vendor they are seeing next, but he follows regardless.

"I was issued a...room.... when I first arrived to Kirkwall, but it was...uncomfortable. There were walls on all sides without any windows and I felt as though I couldn't breathe. So, I... placed... some sleeping shelves throughout the city. I can climb up to them, and with a tug they unfold and are comfortable enough to lay on. When my body demands sleep, I go to the closest one. And after, I fold it up and can be on my way."

He was rather proud of them. They were quite practical.

Ellana listens with interest as she lead him inside, moving with sure steps even on her socked feet towards the staircase. Her reaction to the concept of rooms with walls and a door was much different to his. Living in a clan without privacy meant she craves it now. She adores being alone with a door shutting out the world from her where she can be alone with her thoughts and her feelings.

"Oh, like the flets of Lorien," she says, remembering the tales Galadriel had told. "Is it like a bit of home here? I hope it's not too cold for you up there? It's been a harsh couple of weeks." From all accounts, it didn't usually get so cold here in Kirkwall. Unfortunate that he should arrive to find it, as well as some of his elven resistance to it muted after his fall through the Fade.

"I was going to take you to my room so we could test the crystals in privacy. There's a window, and I could leave the door open if you'd like, but if it's too restrictive, we could just stay in the hall. There's a big window facing the stairs." Indeed, there are windows looking out over the frozen ice rink on the courtyard as she continues leading him up to her floor.

Her concern for him made his already high opinion of her rise. The thought of being alone with her in the privacy of her room, made his anxiety at the same time his anticipation rise also.

"I will be well enough as long as I can see outside, Ellana, I assure you." He sighed a little as he felt warmth seep into him slowly, causing him to flex his hands a bit. "It is very much like our flets. It has been an uncomfortable few nights, and as I never experienced cold to this extreme, it seems I was woefully unprepared. But, no longer thanks to your intervention."

"Oh, I wish you had told someone earlier," she replies, brow furrowed in concern. "No one here wants to see you freeze to death." But at least they've remedied that with their trip to the quartermaster. Still, Ellana wonders if the new clothes will be enough.

"Maybe you could stay in the stables? That's not too closed off and there's plenty of straw for the mounts." It isn't easy to hear how cold he was and simply let it be, but now they've arrived at her room and she figures she shouldn't stick her nose in too much if he's fine sleeping on his shelves.

She waves a hand at the door, removing the ward she placed there, and then takes out her key to unlock the door the traditional way. Not that she has much of value, but you never know with such a varied group as the Inquisition. Opening the door she gestures inside. On the wall opposite the door is the window, and her bed runs along the wall under it with the headboard against the left wall and a cozy bear skin thrown across the mattress. There is precious little furniture: only a nightstand, trunk, armchair, and a few shelves, but it's obviously a homey space, made more so by the fireplace on the right wall.

"Oh, I'll make us a fire," she says, closing the door behind them and heading over to add some kindling from a basket on the floor. "And then we can get started. Feel free to look around." Waving a hand vaguely at the room, she then gets to work, using magic to light her fire.

The space has plenty of personal touches, like the lute leaning against the trunk, or the green tea set arranged on the wide sill of the window beside a tiny wooden halla figurine and a wooden flute. The shelves store toiletries, a opalescent comb, and several books. The end table has more toiletries, candles, another book, and another comb, this one with flowers carved into the handle. A discarded scarf similar to the one she is wearing lies across the armchair, and leaning against a corner is her staff, with its prominent dragon's head staring out unblinkingly across the room.

He watched as she moved about the room, gathering what she needed for the fire. Her hands were remarkably graceful, he couldn't help but thinking. Which, of course made him blush a little, and in an effort to keep himself from flustering he shifted his focus to the room. It seemed a cheery place. More cheery than the room he was given, but he suspected that had everything to do with Ellana, and nothing to do with original state of the room. As he looked around, he answered her questions.

"I found that once the temperature became unbearable, I walked around the town for a bit, and it seemed to help. I-" he stopped mid sentence, unsure of how to express the feeling of helplessness and over all isolation he felt in the last few months. "I did not wish to cause anyone any trouble." He didn't really have anyone to tell if he was completely honest, but he wouldn't have wanted to trouble anyone who would worry. He wouldn't want Galadriel to think he was inept or incapable of looking after himself either. "But, perhaps the stables would be a good refuge." If he knew where those were. He hopefully could figure that out.

His attention moved to flute on window sill. He walked over to it, letting his fingers run over the rough grain of wood until the tips of his fingers sank into the holes along it. I missed playing his own flute, which was now lost to him. It was his own little secret, something he did just for him and him alone. He sighed a little, and let his hand fall slowly down to settle back at his side. There was precious little music in Kirkwall, and the songs of the trees and animals here still eluded him.

The statue of a stag caught his eye, although the twisting antlers where like no stag he'd ever seen. It was beautiful, the most beautiful animal he'd ever seen he would guess. "What type of stag is this, Ellana?"

"You'll find the Inquisition wants to take care of its shardbearers," she replies, working on settling in a small log to her burning kindling. Of course, the Inquisition doesn't treat them like kings, as Galadriel could attest to, but seeing how at one time a shardbearer accidentally opened up a rift above Skyhold, the goal is to keep them from getting too disgruntled. "We certainly don't want you to run off and straight into the enemy's hands either." Who knows what the Venatori would do with a shardbearer of their very own?

If Ellana had known that Haldir enjoys playing the flute, she would give him this one immediately. It had been a gift from a clanmate, but she never plays it. She doesn't know how, and it's already hard enough trying to keep up with her lute practice when she has so much she likes to do. Adding a second instrument is too great a task.

"Hmm?" she asks, turning her body a little to see, though she really should have guessed, seeing how there are no other stag figurines sitting out. "Ah, that is a halla. It's the most important animal to the Dalish. It pulls our aravels -- our landships -- when we move camps. They're sacred to us." She pauses here, wondering if she should still be saying "our" and "us" if she's no longer counting herself among them. "I mean, I'm no longer a part of that life, but I still love the halla. I used to help the halla keeper feed them. Anyway, it's said that the Creator Andruil turned one of her favored into the mother of the halla, and she -- Ghilan'nain, that is -- was raised up to become one of the Creators herself. Because she came from us, the halla are our brothers and sisters, and we protect them in return for their help."

"They would be at home in Lorien. I see my home in them, which is very odd for a creature so wholly disconnected from it. I hope to see one in person some day." He turned, noticing how her face fell when talking about the Dalish. He moved to her, kneeling down so they were at eye level. He towered over her when they stood, so talking to her while she knelt seemed to put far too great a distance between them.

"You may have left your clan, Ellana, but that does not mean they are not still a part of you. I may not be in Lorien, but that doesn't make me less of an Eldar. You have been molded by their history, and by those in your clan, and it will continue to shape who you become. Do not feel shame in that. Do not run from it, embrace it. No one can take that from you, even should they wish to. You are Dalish, regardless of where you may be at the time. If anyone has anything contrary to say to that, you can point them my direction."

He reached out, tentatively, tucking the stray hairs that had worked it's way out of her braid behind her ear.

Keeping still as he kneels beside her, she gives him a smile tinged with sadness.

"I know some who would disagree with you. To be honest, I don't mind not being called Dalish anymore. 'Formerly Dalish' is what I tell people, because I feel elves here have been divided long enough. We should be celebrating our similarities instead of coming up with differences to divide us. We're all one people, and city elves don't have to become Dalish or Dalish become city elves to suddenly be accepted, you know? I'm an elf. I don't need to attach any more names than that, but I thank you for what you said." It's clear to her that already he seems to care for her a great deal. Tentatively, she reaches out to place her fingertips against his arm in thanks.

"Let me just get a few more logs on the fire and then we can sit down, all right?"

Her words sank into him, and made him think of how desperately he tried to push down his own "Silvan-ness". It gave him much to think on, but that would have to happen a bit later.

He let her touch linger a few more seconds, just a fraction longer, and then he moved up and away from her as she hinted him to do. His gaze is now pointed toward the near the trunk, and his curiosity is peaked even more.

"Do you play?" He asks gesturing to flute and lute. "I admit I quite missed making music since coming here."

"The lute, yes; the flute, no." The logs are promptly put on the fire and maneuvered around until she's satisfied with them before she moves to sit on the bed. "The flute was a gift, you see. For my birthday. But it's hard enough to try and master the lute, and I don't think I ever really will there. Adding the flute would be even harder. What instruments do you play?"

"The flute, indecently. Although, I am no master either. It was the only to pass the little time I had to myself. But i enjoyed it. It drove my brothers mad when I was learning too, so that was an added bonus."

Haldir moved a little closer to the fire, because he was fairly frozen and it's warmth lapped and called to him. He stood awkwadly, not completely sure where it would be appropriate to sit.

"Thank you for the fire. I will get more wood for you tomorrow."

"Really? I wonder who you could drive mad here," she muses jokingly, watching him stand before the fire, so tall and elegant in her simple little room. Yet he doesn't look imposing or like he's too big for the space, which she finds nice.

The offer of wood is kind, and though her first reaction is to brush it off as not necessary, she thinks she knows him well enough by now to know he would really prefer to repay her, so she ends up saying, "Ma serannas. It's good to stay stocked up on fuel. By the way, would you like to take the flute with you? I know I said it was a gift, but the person who gave it to me isn't in the Inquisition anymore to see me give it away, and I think he'd like to know it's getting some use."

His eyebrows flew up in shock at her gift, and he caught his tongue before he said he wouldn't take something meaningful from her. But, he didn't want to be rude, and if she couldn't be without the flute she would not have offered it to him.

"Ma Serannas, Ellanna." He said bowing his head a little, before moving to pick up the flute. He brought it to his lips, and then lowered it before looking at her a little cheekily. "I have improved since the time I irritated my brothers. Would it be alright for me to play for just a moment? I am curious to see what sound this flute wishes to make. I can wait as well, if you would prefer."

"Oh, no, please do go ahead!" Ellana says with excitement, drawing up her legs to sit cross-legged on her bed, face full of anticipation. In her mind, one of the Eldar surely must be able to create beautiful music. Everything they do carries a sort of beauty with it, wholly unique to them.

He smiles at her excitement, and then licks his lips before bringing the flute to them. With deft fingers, he warmed up with some of the less complex runs, but then shifted over to the harder ones. Then, with a deep breath, he played one of the more jaunty songs he knew. It was one his Ada had played for him when he was young, and it was the first thing that came into his mind. It was the shortest one he knew too, so it wouldn't take hours to complete like some of the others, which was for the best he felt.

The song came to an end after a few moments, and afterward he looked at her, hoping she couldn't see his ineptitude too badly. Compared to the masters in Lorien, he was a very poor artist indeed.

As he plays, Ellana's shoulders bounce along with the tune, quite naturally and without her really thinking about it. When he finishes, she claps her hands, giggling as well.

"That was really good! I can imagine dancing to that. Is it a song with words too?"

"There are words, but I have long since forgotten them. I will think on it, and see if I can conjure them back." Her reaction made him swell with pride as he put the flute back on the sill.

"Do you enjoy dancing? I am afraid I don't really know how myself. It was deemed unsafe due to our position in the trees." He settled, still in front of the fire, but nearer to her this time. He liked her sing-song laughter, and the way her eyes lit up. He found himself smiling fuller and feeling more at ease than he had decades, all because of her company and the homey feel of her room.

"I do! But actually, I only know one fancy dance: the waltz. Any other time I've danced, it's been around a fire or at a celebration and I wasn't doing steps, but just feeling the music. So I guess you could call it dancing, or maybe swaying?" She giggles again, raising a hand to her mouth and shaking her head. "I don't know! It feels like dancing to me. Anyway, wasn't I going to teach you to use the crystals? And here I am, wondering if what I do is dancing or not." Clearing her throat, she unwinds her scarf and sets it aside to better hold out her crystal in its locket.

"Go ahead and get out yours again?"

Her melodious giggling and the thought of her swaying and dancing tugs at his stomach. It's a sound he wants to always hear.

"I would very much like to see you dance, not matter the style. I'm sure it is breathtaking."

He beamed at her and then rummaged around in his pouch again. Once he has the crystal in hand, he knelt in front of her, and then presented it palm open to her, not knowing what she will do with it once she has it.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject