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WHO: Klaus Von Reinherz & YOU
WHAT: January/February catchall for Klaus because I started this two weeks ago and only finished it now OTL
WHEN: Mid - Late Wintersmarch and going into next month
WHERE: The Gallows and Kirkwall
NOTES: Religious stuff in the third prompt, blatant Beethoven in the second
Lowtown - The Hanged Man
If it weren't for the fangs, one might easily mistake Klaus for a native of Thedas - perhaps some higher class of mercenary. He'd finally acquired some attire that fit - mostly black; a lightweight doublet trimmed with leather and a dark, heavy cloak to ward off the chill. The garments were simple, but well-made, and had alterations done that they might fit his broad physique. They were much better suited than the slacks, waistcoat and dress shirt he'd arrived in at the very least.
It was sleeting when he ventured beyond the Gallows to clear his head. He'd found himself unusually energetic and decided a walk was the best thing for it.
But what had initially been an afternoon constitutional had turned into a trek around half the city. It was only when it grew dark that it had struck Klaus just how long he'd been wandering around, and yet despite his long trek, he still felt that itch of restlessness. Chalking it up to not really being settled in his new surroundings, he made his way to what seemed a promising pub. He didn't drink often and even less frequently did he drink alone, but he hoped a pint might settle his growing uneasiness.
Navigating the crowd wasn't too much of an issue - few wanted to get in the way of a brick wall on legs with such a severe expression - and he managed to make his way through the throng of patrons to the bar.
The beer was bad - just bad enough that he trusted whatever gut feeling he had about the food and decided he'd get his dinner at the Gallows instead. The next task seemed to be finding an empty seat which, given how everyone was staying out of the miserable wet weather, was a monumental task. Eventually he spotted one.
"I beg your pardon," he said to the other occupant of the table. "Do you mind if I join you? It seems everywhere else is full."
Gallows - Gardens
It wasn't just something to keep his hands occupied because he'd been a bit twitchy - Klaus was genuinely quite passionate when it came to horticulture, and he was no stranger to strange flora. Nothing in Thedas quite matched the wildly exotic flora in his greenhouse back home, but it was certainly more than enough to keep his interest.
There was a stack of books on Thedosian herbs nearby, which he would occasionally consult, either to identify the plants that hadn't wilted with the arrival of winter or to properly attend to the various evergreens. He was utterly engrossed in his work, humming a cheery melody in a deep but pleasant baritone.
Gallows - Chapel
It had been years since he'd been to mass - time and circumstances hadn't really permitted such things, and while his faith hadn't necessarily wavered, his approach to it had changed. It was a much more personal thing to him, and there were problems he doubted any priest would have any adequate answers for.
He came to the chapel late at night, when it seemed deserted beside a few stragglers. It wasn't a Catholic church - he would have been very surprised if there was such a thing in an entirely different world - but the Andrastian faith hit enough similar beats that he felt a visit worthwhile. He stared for a time up at the figure of Andraste, her serene marble gaze looking out over the rows of pews and the halls felt both familiar and strange to him.
Klaus crossed himself before sliding in between one of the rows and knelt. His thoughts wandered to his rosary, locked away in his desk in his townhouse in Greenwich Village, but that was a world away. A relic from another life left to gather dust because there was no time for prayer in the chaos of Jerusalem's Lot. Now, it felt like he perhaps should have done something to make the time. He'd certainly managed to clear his schedule for the gardening club (but ah, it was so important to check on Mr. Kirishima and little Mavie. And Jameson's arthritis was acting up again, he'd need help with transplanting his orchids once the summer rolled around and-)
He took a breath and bowed his head over his clasped hands. It had been so hard to focus lately and his thoughts got away so quickly, and sleep had been oddly evasive. He'd come here in hopes of clearing his head, not to dwell on other matters.
WHAT: January/February catchall for Klaus because I started this two weeks ago and only finished it now OTL
WHEN: Mid - Late Wintersmarch and going into next month
WHERE: The Gallows and Kirkwall
NOTES: Religious stuff in the third prompt, blatant Beethoven in the second
Lowtown - The Hanged Man
If it weren't for the fangs, one might easily mistake Klaus for a native of Thedas - perhaps some higher class of mercenary. He'd finally acquired some attire that fit - mostly black; a lightweight doublet trimmed with leather and a dark, heavy cloak to ward off the chill. The garments were simple, but well-made, and had alterations done that they might fit his broad physique. They were much better suited than the slacks, waistcoat and dress shirt he'd arrived in at the very least.
It was sleeting when he ventured beyond the Gallows to clear his head. He'd found himself unusually energetic and decided a walk was the best thing for it.
But what had initially been an afternoon constitutional had turned into a trek around half the city. It was only when it grew dark that it had struck Klaus just how long he'd been wandering around, and yet despite his long trek, he still felt that itch of restlessness. Chalking it up to not really being settled in his new surroundings, he made his way to what seemed a promising pub. He didn't drink often and even less frequently did he drink alone, but he hoped a pint might settle his growing uneasiness.
Navigating the crowd wasn't too much of an issue - few wanted to get in the way of a brick wall on legs with such a severe expression - and he managed to make his way through the throng of patrons to the bar.
The beer was bad - just bad enough that he trusted whatever gut feeling he had about the food and decided he'd get his dinner at the Gallows instead. The next task seemed to be finding an empty seat which, given how everyone was staying out of the miserable wet weather, was a monumental task. Eventually he spotted one.
"I beg your pardon," he said to the other occupant of the table. "Do you mind if I join you? It seems everywhere else is full."
Gallows - Gardens
It wasn't just something to keep his hands occupied because he'd been a bit twitchy - Klaus was genuinely quite passionate when it came to horticulture, and he was no stranger to strange flora. Nothing in Thedas quite matched the wildly exotic flora in his greenhouse back home, but it was certainly more than enough to keep his interest.
There was a stack of books on Thedosian herbs nearby, which he would occasionally consult, either to identify the plants that hadn't wilted with the arrival of winter or to properly attend to the various evergreens. He was utterly engrossed in his work, humming a cheery melody in a deep but pleasant baritone.
Gallows - Chapel
It had been years since he'd been to mass - time and circumstances hadn't really permitted such things, and while his faith hadn't necessarily wavered, his approach to it had changed. It was a much more personal thing to him, and there were problems he doubted any priest would have any adequate answers for.
He came to the chapel late at night, when it seemed deserted beside a few stragglers. It wasn't a Catholic church - he would have been very surprised if there was such a thing in an entirely different world - but the Andrastian faith hit enough similar beats that he felt a visit worthwhile. He stared for a time up at the figure of Andraste, her serene marble gaze looking out over the rows of pews and the halls felt both familiar and strange to him.
Klaus crossed himself before sliding in between one of the rows and knelt. His thoughts wandered to his rosary, locked away in his desk in his townhouse in Greenwich Village, but that was a world away. A relic from another life left to gather dust because there was no time for prayer in the chaos of Jerusalem's Lot. Now, it felt like he perhaps should have done something to make the time. He'd certainly managed to clear his schedule for the gardening club (but ah, it was so important to check on Mr. Kirishima and little Mavie. And Jameson's arthritis was acting up again, he'd need help with transplanting his orchids once the summer rolled around and-)
He took a breath and bowed his head over his clasped hands. It had been so hard to focus lately and his thoughts got away so quickly, and sleep had been oddly evasive. He'd come here in hopes of clearing his head, not to dwell on other matters.
Lowtown, The Hanged Man
"Not at all! Go ahead, make yourself comfortable. I've no interest in tormenting all lowlanders, just the pompous and pushy ones."
no subject
He'd been learning quite a bit about Thedas over the course of the past couple months, but that was hardly any amount of time to study the breadth and scope of the worlds various inhabitants. What he knew of the Avvar was very little - likely because the books he'd read hardly said anything about them.
"You say lowlander - I'd assume that means you are from the mountains then?"
no subject
She pauses to take a swig from her tankard, stretching after she sets it down.
"Not that I joined until you lot picked up and moved to Kirkwall. My timing was a wee bit off."
no subject
"I'm surprised they stationed you this far - is Kirkwall much different from what you're used to?"
no subject
The Hanged Man
"Just keep your hands and your war stories to yourself," she concedes, disinterestedly. Men in taverns can be predictable.
Re: The Hanged Man
"My thanks," he said and the soft spoken tone didn't really align with his expression, so maybe his face was just Like That.
"I've no intention of putting something so personal on a stranger," he reassures, though his gaze wanders briefly to the scar over her eye. He's sure she has more than her share of stories to tell.
"Klaus Von Reinherz," he greets, offering a bow before taking his seat. "It is a pleasure."
no subject
Gardens
He followed the sound to Klaus, glancing at the stack of the books and back at the man, a small smile tugging his lips.
"Bach?" he guessed as he approached him.
sorry for the delay - I've been super sick orz
"Close," he said, his tone radiating warmth despite his expression being somewhat stern. "Beethoven. His 9th symphony. I've always loved it."
He brushed the soil from his knees, and tugged off his gloves.
"You must also be from the rifts. Are you from Earth as well?"
...Or some variant of it. Klaus was aware that multiverse theory and time shenanigans were in full effect.