OPEN | Dreams are more precious than gold

[mythalenaste]

WHO: Pel, Nathaniel, and Colin
WHAT: Open log for the month of December/Haring
WHEN: All month
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Some warning for grief and loss, anxiety disorders, chronic pain, and Rendon Howe.

Pel

I: The Alienage

Pel is bundled up, with coarse fennec pelts strapped around her boots for traction. Little Sina is similarly bundled and peering curiously at this new white world. Before leaving the Gallows, Pel stops to take the time to introduce the little girl to snow for the first time, letting her touch it to test the coldness, and showing her the intricacies of a single flake against the dark contrast of one glove. Then she hoists the baby up into a harness on her back and sets out.

The alienage has a great need right now, being in such a poor state of repair generally. Pel's aid there is less magic and more elbow grease, hauling a bag of sand gathered from the shore and scattering it over the ice. The only magic used for it is the magic she directs inward to increase her own strength.

Inside houses it's a little different. People are desperately cold. Some see that there are mages given to other parts of town and request magical aid, desperate not to freeze themselves and their children to death. Pel seldom suggests magic herself if there is any other way, but finds herself making quite a few glyphs--on stones, for putting at the foot of a bed, in the fireplace, even stitched discreetly into one man's gloves and stockings because he works at the docks and is in danger of frostbite. Sina observes all of this, and Pel somehow feels like this is just as important for her daughter as for anyone. At seven months old, she is already being exposed to the value of hard work.

Saoirse

A grateful elf has made hot stew for the Inquisition workers. Pel sits by Saoirse and hands her a bowl.

"Eat up while it's hot, lethallan."

II: Ice Skating

Pel is quite literally in her element in this weather. In the center of the courtyard, without asking anyone, she creates an ice sculpture of a roaring dragon unfolding its wings. And almost immediately after, she takes a pair of skates, straps them on, and introduces Little Sina to a new form of movement, holding her tightly in her arms so she can watch her daughter's face.

The first slide is gentle, slow, and the little girl looks at once baffled and intrigued. The second slide is quicker, and an open smile flashes across her face. By the third, she is laughing, and so is Pel. Faster and faster they go, making turns, sometimes going backwards. Soon, Sina is shrieking with laughter.

It's the first time since the older Sina's death that Pel has had laughter in her life.

Sorrel

"Here." Pel skates up to him to pass the baby to him, breathless and grinning. "Your turn."

Herian

Pel is now taking up her sword practice indoors, where it is not likely she will slip and break her neck. In a wide-open room, she goes through the stances while Sina lies belly-down on a blanket, trying to push herself up to hands and knees. Herian walks in, and Pel stops to give her a wave.

"Grab a sword and spar with me."




Nathaniel

I: Closed to Loghain

As Nathaniel is terribly formal, he leaves Loghain a note to join him for dinner in his quarters. As he is terribly polite, he cooks the meal himself. As he is terribly nervous, he fusses over table setting and almost calls off the entire thing because is it really doing to do him any good to have this conversation?

But he has to know.

He hears the knock. "Come in," he calls.

II: Warden Office

Most days, especially with the cold and snow, Nathaniel is drawn and pale. His ribs are nearly healed from the most recent break, but his rheumatism is worse than ever, and he can feel every shift in barometric pressure. He has gone all out with the fire glyphs and buried himself in paperwork, including a new sign (paper) on the door.

WARDENS--

Enquire here for work assignments. For relief effort requisitions, please speak with Senior Warden Teren.

--Ser Nathaniel

Ciri

A message comes over Ciri's crystal:

"Warden, please meet me in the office at your earliest convenience."

Bethany

Since there are relief efforts underway, Bethany and Nathaniel have been hard at work. Their donation funds are not going back to the public, of course--the Wardens need the charity. But they are finding an increase in donations the more legwork their people put into relief efforts. After Bethany delivers her daily report, Nathaniel stands, supporting himself against his desk.

"With that," he groans, "I'm done. If anyone else needs anything, Alistair or Loghain can handle it."




Colin

I: Closed to Gareth

It's bizarre, the effect any shift plays on Colin. He doesn't like the open, shared room he is in. He wants somewhere small and safe. But outside the room is less safe. He is paralyzed by a peculiar mix of complacency and fear, ready to simply tuck himself away until the snow melts because who would go outside in the snow? Isn't it a good excuse not to see or talk to anyone?

But he has to work. He has to help the city, too. These are orders, not options.

He calls Gareth over the crystals. He should probably talk to someone who already knows why he cowers like this, but Gareth feels safer.

"Gareth? Could you...could you come to my room?"

It's humiliating. He feels weak and pathetic. But he needs help leaving his room.

II: All Over Kirkwall

During lunchtime, Colin closes the shop and starts making his rounds in the city. He rolls a cart with a rich, hearty pork bone soup with fresh bread on the side, all kept piping hot by a couple of runestones. All the hardworking people need to do is bring a cup to get fed. In Lowtown and the alienage, quite a few citizens also come, and he feeds them without question.

Anders

After lunch is passed out, Colin sits on a step, sipping on a mug of soup and occasionally dipping bread into it. When he sees Anders, he grins and waves.

"Did you get food?"

Comments

I

[mactears]

He's been summoned, and so here he is, still sporting ice clinging to the outsides of his work clothes and parts of his hair. As he steps in, it becomes clear that he hasn't arrived alone--but when Loghain turns to the wolf-dog, Primrose, and instructs her quietly but firmly, "Wait," she obediently lays herself down outside the door and doesn't follow him inside.

"Apologies for bringing her," Loghain says as he steps into Natheniel's quarters. He wipes some damp hair out of his face and pulls off his gloves. "It would be our preference for her to remain on Sundermount, but with the weather taking a foul turn I thought it best to bring her back to the Gallows with me, for a time."

[pinprick]

The table is set with a salted meat and winter squash savory pie, boiled potatoes, wine, and a bottle of good Fereldan peat whisky. Nathaniel has prepared for a fairly strenuous evening. He looks...uncomfortable, and not in the way that indicates all that much physical pain. He shakes his head.

"It's fine. If you want, I have a bone Lady hasn't already chewed. She can come in and have it, if you like. Lady is very friendly with other dogs."

[mactears]

He hasn't had much of an opportunity to check in with Nathaniel since the fighting in the Necropolis, but he does so now--discreetly, in a way that could be easily missed. His discomfort is noted, but not commented upon, just yet.

"Lady is very friendly with other dogs."

Loghain grimaces and glances towards the door. "I fear Primrose is not," he says after a pause. "I found her in Amaranthine; some dockworkers had been using her as a pit fighter. It's best if she keeps her distance, for now." At the very least, Primrose seems obedient to her master; her mabari blood and intelligence likely have much to do with that.

He looks next to the spread of food across the table, his eyebrows lifting. A moment later, he appears almost chagrined. "I hope you did not trouble yourself so much on my account," he says, taking a step towards the table.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel grimaces and gives a dismissive wave. "I can't bend enough to cook. It came from the market. Have a seat."

He does so himself, slowly and carefully, keeping his back straight. He dishes everything out for Loghain first, pours the wine, and begins to eat in silence. He's not actually sure whether this subject should be broached before they've switched to the whisky.

[ichaer]

She outdoors going through morning routines with Kelpie when Natheniel's voice comes alive over her crystal. Breathing out a puff of cold air, Ciri fishes for her crystal and eyes it carefully before speaking: "Loud and clear, be there soon as I finish up at the stables."

Which included more than just her usual routines with her horse. As its begun to grow colder, she has been working to make sure that the stables are in good condition and the mounts have enough protection from the winter weather. She doubts it'll get as cold here as it does back home but she worries more for the wind off the bay and whatever might come down from the mountains.

A short time later, still dressed in her work clothes and a protective muffler wrapper around the lower half of her face, does she approach the office and knock.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel is alone in the office, for the moment. He sits stiffly in his chair and looks grumpier than usual.

"I dropped my pen." Which is true. There is a pen lying on the floor. He cannot work without a pen. "Will you please pick it up for me?"

[ichaer]

She blinks once and then twice, standing in the doorway before glancing around. Was... was this a trap? Was someone going to jump down from the ceiling and throw her out the window when she bent over? Was she being ridiculous?

Probably not, maybe and definitely.

"Uh, aye... sure." Ciri says slowly as she moves into the room, closing the door behind her and picking the pen up from the floor to set it back on his desk. With a chuckle, she grins. "I hope this wasn't a test of some sort."

[pinprick]

Nathaniel takes the pen, face flushing with embarrassment. "I had a few ribs break recently and I can't bend. But I did call you here for another reason. Sit down."

[sulena]

Saoirse has been busily helping the alienage as she has since the weather began to turn colder. Preparing homes for the winter was most important along with making sure that the people had proper clothing and that food was put up for each family. Currently she knitting, putting the finishing touches on a pair of much needed gloves and humming as she works.

When Pel sits down beside her, she looks up with a grateful smile and takes the bowl.

"Oh! This looks yummy, thank you." And then remembering her gift from Pel, she has a thought and peeks at her friend. "In Elven... how would say 'thank you'?"

[mythalenaste]

"Ma serannas," Pel answers with a tiny smile because it always feels right to teach another elf, where she can. "Or serannas if you want to be a bit more casual."

Nathaniel II

[doneisdone]

"Senior Warden?"
The words come from the doorway, where Teren leans with an arched eyebrow, looking unbearably smug. "I'm Senior Warden again, am I? What have I done to get back in His Lordship's good graces?"
It's curiosity more than antagonism, but she's not about to let Nate slip this by, and going easy on him would be a violation of their mutual understanding. ...whatever it is.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel has the self-control not to swear, or blurt out that he forgot he demoted Teren. He rubs a temple. Well. Time to pretend he did it on purpose.

"You've executed your duties as quartermaster admirably--mostly--with no incident since the one you were demoted for. So long as you avoid the abuse of power that got you in trouble in the first place, I can see no reason to hold you back."

He is going to have to get quick retroactive forgiveness/permission from Loghain. Probably not from Alistair, though, Alistair Nathaniel is positive would approve this. But he'll still have a chat with him, of course.

[doneisdone]

The smirk drifts off, and Teren is caught off-guard. Technically this is a win for her, but Nate being a step ahead can never be a true victory.

"...good've you to tell me," she mutters, scoffs, and walks out again. REGROUP

[dashing]

Ah. Herian hesitates for a moment, though there's not particular reason for the hesitation. She's in something of a daze, it feels like, has been ever since the Necropolis. Sometimes it is so hard to focus on the present moment that someone speaking to her directly and catching her attention takes just a fraction longer than it should.

"Of course." As controlled as ever, though flat might be a better word for it than even. As she moves to the rack of practice weapons she asks, "Wooden blades, or standard?"

[mythalenaste]

"Wooden," Pel says immediately. She appears to almost say something else, but swallows it, eyes rolling as if she's embarrassed about something. She looks to the side, clearly avoiding Herian's gaze. "I can be a bit...overzealous. When sparring. I may have hurt someone a little. So. Wooden blades."

[dashing]

Her brow furrows, just a little. "Being able to master control in sparring will help you on the field."

It's a less judgmental means of expressing herself than she might inflict on all people. "It can take time. I have had many years studying swordplay and the skills of a warrior. Do not think me fragile, or less of yourself for not yet mastering all elements."

It wasn't like Herian had mastered them, either, after all. She grabs a sword, weighs it in her hand, and moves to Pel.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

Bethany folded her report up, and went to put it with the other paperwork. She glanced over her shoulder at Nate, one corner of her mouth dimpling up. Her dark eyes flashed humor as she stated simply, "Words I never thought would be uttered by you."

She moved over to his side, offering him her staff. "Shall I see you home, serah?"

[pinprick]

Nathaniel does love his job, but has no idea what he would do as a sole leader. Alistair is right--it's better to have multiple commanders instead of one. Titles and ambitions have nothing to do with the work.

He eyes the staff, unhappily considering taking it. It feels like it would be admitting defeat. Right now, he is far too proud to walk with a staff or a cane. It's bad enough that he has to read with glasses. He declines politely with one hand.

"You may," he answers, starting off with his back straight. "I've always thought I felt like an old man, ever since I was a boy. Now I have a different idea of what that means."

[sunshinethroughgrey]

She gave him a long look, before she tucked the staff away and took his arm instead. It looked like he was being gentlemanly, but she was also allowed to let him lean in turn.

"Well, you're not old yet. Just well-practiced in hurting yourself in extreme ways."

I AM SO SORRY late with starbucks doesn't begin to cover it

[writteninblood]

Sorrel is a man who knows his limits. So he is not skating. He is sitting peaceably by the side, with a blanket on his shoulders, watching everyone as they whirl and glide and fall on their asses, each in turn. He's watching Pel too. Or catching sight of her, here and there, whirling her daughter in circles and making her laugh. Little Sina, da'Siuona, and Sorrel want so badly to regret his decisions... but he can't. In the light of that little smile, he can't regret anything that would bring it to life.

When he's woolgathering, this is when Pel arrives, abruptly depositing a burbling, smile-bright baby in his arms. His arms come up automatically to hold her; he would never just let her drop, after all.

"Uhm," He tells her, intelligently, "What?"

Also super late oops

[mythalenaste]

"You haven't had much of a chance to spend time with her," Pel pants, cheeks flushing from the cold, "so here she is. Take her out there." She looks a little more serious. "You need this. You need to laugh with her."

[writteninblood]

"I like my toes where they are, thanks," Sorrel replies, thoughtless retort. Pel's caught him off guard, that's for sure; he's operating more on reflex than thought, "And you probably like your baby better when she's un-dropped."

Is that a word? Sorrel asks himself this question, but can answer it before little Sina's reached up and seized all the hair she can fit into her tiny, cold, unrelenting fist.

"Agh, no!" But he can't help the beginnings of a smile as he attempts to untangle himself from the cruel fingers of fate, with limited success, "Stop ganging up on me!"

Maybe he can pretend it was a grimace, instead.

meee

[foundmyselfagain]

Gareth's first reaction to the request is surprise. Colin wasn't trying anything, was he--? No, that's not the kind of guy he seemed to be. Hopefully. It'd be a pain to go all the way to Colin's room just to have to awkwardly reject him. More likely: He just needs to talk about something magey. Or just friendship-y.

"Yeah, sure. Just give me a bit to get there."

It's a bit of a hike, from the fifth floor of one tower to the third floor of another, and when Gareth arrives and knocks at Colin's door, he's a bit winded. Not as winded as he would have been before he first joined the Inquisition, though. The combination of not constantly bleeding himself, exercise, and the horribly healthy food Kostos was making him eat was moving him up from 'horribly unhealthy' to 'pretty dang unhealthy'.

"Hey, Colin! It's me."

[keenly]

Colin has spent the time between the crystal call and Gareth's arrival fighting the temptation to hide. He doesn't know why the fear builds in him with every step Gareth takes closer. He flinches when he hears the knock and the voice, and immediately decides this was a mistake. And an instant later, he decides this is incredibly stupid. He's not afraid of anything that exists. He's just trying to walk to the damn store. But knowing that only helps a little.

He uncurls from his seat on his bed and pads over to the door. Gareth might have left by now, he's left the door unanswered for a while now. He opens the door a crack and peers out.

"This is going to sound really weird," he says, "but, um. Could you...could you walk to work with me?"

He doesn't know how it works, but being with someone when he's feeling like this gives him a sort of lifeline, a shared burden of being outside and vulnerable so that he can get from point A to point B when he's anxious about what comes in between.

[foundmyselfagain]

Gareth is already starting to fish around and pull out his crystal, to try to get a hold of Colin and confirm yes, he wanted to meet at his room, when the door finally opens--barely.

Is that a pick-up line? On one hand, it sounds like one. On the other hand, Colin certainly doesn't look like he's trying to do any smooth talking. In fact, he looks kind of terrified.

"Yeah, sure. Is--" He looks around, like he might find whatever is making Colin so jumpy hiding around a corner. "--Is someone bothering you? Because if they are, I can take care of it. I can talk to people, you know? Official channels. Or unofficial, if you'd prefer." It wouldn't be hard, and Gareth could probably do it without revealing anything...illegal. Fireballs are perfectly acceptable for threatening people.