faderift | Open log for Wintermarch

Well. Nevarra sucked. He's not entirely surprised with how things turned out, but it's still frustrating. At least they're back in Kirkwall now.

A. Not exactly a scholar

Oh yes, this is a rare sight. Carver Hawke, in the library. Reading. Well, attempting to anyway. The rather tall man is almost dwarfed by the stack of books around him; clearly he's been here for awhile, judging by the stacks and the empty plate next to him. His brow's creased in a perpetual frown as he pages through the book in front of him. Occasionally, he'll jot down something in a little piece of parchment next to him. But often he'll just cross it out later. Whatever he's trying to discern, it's not going well.

After awhile, he shoves the book away from him, blowing out a frustrated breath. Calloused hands run over his face, scrubbing at it. "I'm not cut out for this," he mutters.

B. Gotta keep in shape

Now this is much more his style. Despite the cold weather, Carver's still outside, practicing his sword form. He whet his blade plenty on the undead that swarmed them in the Grand Necropolis, but that doesn't mean he gets to slack off. And really, it's more something to just keep his mind occupied and feel somewhat productive. For now, he's practicing on one of the dummies set up... somewhere. Someone probably propped up a few somewhere, right? Right.

Of course, a real partner that can react and swing back would be ideal. But Carver's never been much of one to ask for a sparring partner; too used to doing it on his own and all. Still, he won't say no if someone offers. If he knows you, he'll wave in greeting. If not, he'll either likely ignore you or just nod. Or if you're REALLY lucky and he likes you, you might just get a smile.

Or just don't let him know you're there and ogle him from a distance. He's getting warm from the movements, so he's ditched the coat. Now he's just rocking a threadbare shirt and pants, so.

C. Griffons are better than people

Because fuck people, honestly. Griffons don't care about politics or image or whatever. They just want food and head scratches. And after the Grand Necropolis debacle, Carver's happy to spend time up there with the beasts, giving them bits of food and learning about them. They're used to him enough now that they're not quite as rambunctious and screechy when he comes up, though that might have more to do with the fact that he always comes with food.

Carver's also wisened up; most of the shiny things on him are hidden or just entirely absent. Still, it doesn't stop one from trying to pick at a button on his shirt. Carver gently whaps its beak. "Don't you try it. Beth will give me that look and chide me, and I can't sew for shit." A protesting squawk. "Look, I'll bring you something big and shiny to play with next time. Knowing our luck, you'd swallow this thing and choke on it."

He gets perturbed look.

"I'm right and you know it."

D. Wildcard

You know the drill

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh! Are you one of the griffon riders?" he asks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen a bit. It had been a shock to find out not all of them were dead now.

"No, not at the moment." He's hoping that'll change someday, but the decision lies with the griffons, not him. They remind him so much of mabari in that regard. "But they're in our care all the same, and they need to be looked after."

"That's very admirable. Let's see... For information about griffins I'd look into books about the history of the Gray Wardens, or about ancient creatures." He turned his head a bit to look into the titles that Carver had collected.

"Oh! I think there's another one that might help... I was reading it a few days ago.. I'll be right back." He offers Carver a smile and then disappears to find the volume.

Carver's about to point out that those books are exactly what he has, or at least what he was able to find, but the kid seems to have an idea and he decides to just let it go. He's helping, and Carver's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth by being his usual self. So instead he nods as Carolus takes off for parts unknown. Admittedly, he's curious about what he has in mind.

Carolus comes back with a thick book that seems to have had the label worn off. He sits near Carver and opens it.

"I was reading up on the history of the mabari but this book has a collection of stories about animals and our relationship to them. It's old though, so maybe there's something in it about the griffins?" He smiles up at Carver. "Can't hurt to look, right?"

He careful moves to a resource page on the book, checking to see if there might be anything about griffins in it.

He's also noticeably more comfortable now that he has a task at hand. He might as well be talking to a well known friend rather than an older man he just met.

What a helper. Brownie points for you, kiddo.

"It'd have to be very old, but no, it can't hurt." Carver glances over the book with him, brow furrowed in concentration as he goes down the resource page in the book. Tons of animals, to the book's credit. It takes a minute before he spots something about griffons. "There."

Carlos's eyes brighten. "Good catch," he says and flips to that page before turning the book over to Carver so that he could read what it says.

"I can check some of the Orlesian volumes too, while you're looking that over." At least his mother's heritage could come in handy for something.

"Ah, sure, if you want." Carver shoots the boy a curious look. Not to sound like he's complaining, but... "Why are you helping out so much? You don't have to chip in out of pity, or did I look that miserable?"

Carlos looks up and looks a little confused for a moment. "No, not really." He presses his lips together, considering how to word this.

"I just like helping others."

Open log for Wintermarch

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject