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

[keenly]

"...Good to know, but it's nothing like that." Colin hesitates, eyes going slightly wide as he braces himself for saying something that will sound stupid. "You know, a lot of us...at-at Ferelden's Circle, we all came away with some souvenirs from Uldred's grand uprising. This one's mine. Something about...leaving secure places by myself, I don't know exactly. You don't have to do anything, I should probably've found someone who already knew about it."

But Gareth offers to kill people, and that reassures Colin.

[foundmyselfagain]

Hey, he was offering to threaten. Not that he wouldn't be above killing. Because he wouldn't be.

But Gareth can only nod sympathetically at Colin's explanation. "Hey, I understand. You're not the only one--I mean. I don't know anyone else from Kinloch, but. A lot of us have those scars that you can't see." And some, like Gareth, carried scars that could be seen. Unfortunately. He gives himself a gesture, a wry smile on his face.

"I, um. I'm fine with leaving places, but. I'm paranoid. Like, crazy paranoid. I have to keep telling myself that I'm not being hunted anymore--that was a thing, after the Gallows. The rest of the Templars left started hunting us down. Like we were in the wrong for escaping that shithole. It's still hard to not assume that people I don't know aren't going to try to kill me."

Pause. "I don't think you're going to kill me, for the record. Just, yanno. Strangers. But anyway, I'm fine with tagging along if you want me to. I can also fuck off, if you want me to."

[keenly]

The vast majority of the fear in Colin scatters and vanishes. The burden lightens greatly once it is shared. He smiles at Gareth.

"Thank you for telling me that. And you don't sound crazy, least of all to me. I mean, when the Circle was taken over by blood mages and abominations, I hid in a wall for...a week? Sometimes I feel like I'm there again, and if I come out of hiding, something is going to kill me." But there's nothing here that would kill him, and he has a friend with him. That's as safe as they're both going to get.

He hesitates, then steps outside, shutting the door behind him. "Let's go."

[foundmyselfagain]

"Ahahah. Wow. That sounds awful." There's a slight tenseness in Gareth's voice, as he glances off to the side. He'd heard about Uldred of course, who hadn't? A cautionary tale, why blood mages were bad and dangerous and needed to be stamped out. Fuel for Meredith's raging fire. Another example thrown on the pile that would probably be used some day to justify bringing Gareth down.

But it's not Colin's fault, he reminds himself, and smiles.

"Well, I'm not going to kill you, and if you see anything that might, just let me know, alright? Not that I think you'll have much to worry about here, they put a lot of effort into making sure that the past didn't repeat itself." But sometimes things just fall through the cracks, don't they? Well, at least Gareth has no intention of doing a part two of Uldred's performance. Not right now, anyway.

And with that, he starts heading down the stairs. "At least your store isn't up any more stairs. This was so much easier when I was younger."

[keenly]

"Most people who were there had it infinitely worse than I did, believe me." Colin hid and wasn't caught. Those few mages who survived the slaughter were tortured and turned into abominations against their will. By the time Jonas Cousland arrived, there wasn't much left of the Circle to save.

"And same for you. We'll look out for each other." Is this how warriors compare battle scars? Do warriors actually do that, outside of books? It's always galling, will be galling for a while yet, that Gareth was a child here. This notorious torture house had children, and one of those children is walking him through the halls because he is scared. Colin closes his eyes briefly and shakes his head at himself.

"Need me to carry you?" he teases, trying not to pity because pity is practically a sin.

[foundmyselfagain]

Gareth looks remarkably curious at Colin saying that they'd look out for each other. It's not that he didn't have people who looked out for him, but that number was small, as small as Gareth could let it be. Only people who knew the burden of the secret he carried with him. It's not something that he can make Colin carry, not when the man can barely handle what's on his own plate.

But it's a nice thought, so Gareth smiles and nods.

"Carry me? That's a kind offer. But I think it'd just be better if they installed lifts to take us to each floor. Back in the day, it made sense, you know? Templars needed exercise, and mages--I don't know, maybe they just thought it was funny. Or that we needed exercise too, since it's not like we went anywhere. But! My point is, I am old now and my joints creak. And I think I deserve a lift." He starts down the stairs, smile as loose and casual as ever.

"Maybe I'll submit the suggestion to the division heads. Have you ever met them?" He turns to look over his shoulder at Colin. "I met the research one. Tallest elf I've ever seen, taller than either of us."