[open] this old bastard is still around

[mactears]

WHO: Loghain + OPEN
WHAT: With time to think comes time to come up with creative ways to avoid processing your grief.
WHEN: Throughout March.
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall, his cabin on Sundermount
NOTES: None, will update as needed.

At some stage, Loghain realizes that he has time to catch his breath and think clearly, and this presents a problem. Because he's thinking clearly about a lot of things, mostly to do with Seheron, and all of these thoughts leave him emotionally compromised.

...This is probably fine.



I.  THE GALLOWS


The Wardens' office is small, but there remains enough work to be done for Loghain to spend hours here when work takes Alistair and Nathaniel elsewhere. He spends his time pacing behind the office's single desk rather than sitting at it, leaning over it to consider maps and documents that might provide leads about the Wardens' usual enemies, the darkspawn, and their unusual enemies--themselves.

His hours here are unpredictable, but tend towards the very early morning, or late in the evening, with a lit candle, a cup of tea, and the wolf-dog Primrose resting alertly near his feet.



II.  KIRKWALL


Being a Warden or a member of the Inquisition forces doesn't necessarily pay well, but it pays enough for Loghain to afford the occasional trip into the city to acquire things for himself (or for Sooty, or Primrose) that the Inquisition doesn't have on offer. He manages two or three trips into Kirkwall this month, and can be found prowling through the Lowtown markets in search of something that might resemble a decent dog collar, or better horse tack.



III.  SUNDERMOUNT


Loghain can thank Celia for most of his practical skills with regards to the mending of broken things; and after the brutal winter that swept through the Free Marches, his little cabin on remote Sundermount is in need of some tending to.

It is here that he chooses to pass most of his time, with either stabled in her nearby paddock or left to graze the loose grasses nearby, while Primrose prowls the wilderness like the half-wild thing she is. With lumber felled from nearby trees, Loghain mends holes in his roof, patches up the interior walls where the draft can get in, and generally sees to the maintenance of his small patch of property. It's hard labour, and it's the perfect distraction from the gnawing, aching hole in his heart that reminds him, whenever his hands and thoughts are idle, that Maric is truly dead.

On warmer days, he takes Sooty for rides through the foothills, or hunts for game with Primrose. On colder nights, he sits quietly indoors with his old journals and notes, drinking whiskey while deliberating miserably over what he could have been if, years in the past, he had simply kept looking.

Comments

iii.

[thunderproof]

One of Adalia and Chari's favourite pastimes is flying around Sundermount together, Charis hunting for his own dinners and Adalia just trying to stay astride her broom. She's gotten better at it, and she can usually keep up with Charis now no matter how excited he gets. They're an amazing duo, at least in her mind, and she is finally beginning to think he might be ready to join in combat, if he wants to. if. but that's not a question to pose now, while they're both having a good time flying around. Later, maybe.

It's not often that they come across other people while they're flying around — other people they haven't brought themselves, anyway — so when Adalia notices the humanoid shape beneath them, she whistles a command to Charis. He banks to the left, falling behind her to hide in a tree, in case the person walking around is likely to attack a dragon. Adalia herself flies lower down, coming closer and closer until she can make out any identifying features — and then exclaims happily, excited.

"Loghain! Hi, what are you doing out here?"

[mactears]

His first indication that they have company comes from Primrose, whose wolfish ears suddenly prick alertly. She looks up and utters a low growl of warning, but the sound cuts off abruptly as she catches Adalia's scent. Loghain turns in the brush and looks up as well, and startles to see Adalia descending towards them... on a flying broomstick.

In his shock, he almost doesn't register her question at first.

"What?" he starts, his tone blunter than intended; he clears his throat and attempts to gentle his tone, but the sight of a flying broomstick isn't going to get out of his head anytime soon. "I, ah. I live here. Just beyond that copse of trees." He turns and gestures across the woods.

Inquisitive, Primrose comes nearer to Adalia to sniff at the broomstick. (is it food? no? rats.)

[thunderproof]

Honestly, half the reason Adalia didn't land before she came to investigate was because she was hoping this kind of reaction. Her smile only gets wider at Loghain's confusion, though she tries to make it slightly less obvious that she's delighting in his bewilderment. She lowers herself even closer to the ground as Primrose comes to sniff, letting her get close to the broom.

"I didn't know that! I come out here with Charis as often as I can to let him fly around, I had no idea that was your house! Speaking of — can I call him over, or do you think that would upset Primrose too much?"

Adalia's all for forcing friendship on reticent individuals (kind of what she's doing right now, really), but when it comes to wolf-dogs who could probably kill her kid if annoyed enough, she'll be a bit more respectful than she's usually given to. It's not fair to upset an animal just trying to live its little wolf-dog life, anyway, and Charis doesn't need the stress of stressing her out either.

[mactears]

(Well congratulations for nearly giving an old man a heart attack, Adalia.)

"I didn't know that! I come out here with Charis as often as I can to let him fly around, I had no idea that was your house! Speaking of — can I call him over, or do you think that would upset Primrose too much?"

The idea of a tame dragon still sits uneasily with Loghain... but plenty of others would undoubtedly say the same about Primrose; the half-feral get of a mabari and a wolf, still more comfortable roaming the hills than putting up with the enclosed spaces within the Gallows. Loghain glances at her and gives a quick whistle, to which she responds by obediently trotting back to heel. He drops a hand to give the wolfish scruff around her neck and ears an affectionate scratch. "She'll be all right," he says, his voice filled with a gruff kind of affection as he looks down at the animal. "Mabari are smart about these things."

[thunderproof]

With Loghain's permission, Adalia twists on her broom, looking back toward where Charis had flown off to, and whistles another command. It takes a moment, but a blue-grey shape emerges from the treetops and glides down to land next to Adalia, leaning forward to sniff at the air, attention trained on Primrose. Adalia takes the opportunity to land, slinging the broom over her shoulder.

"Well, what were you and Primrose out here for, anyway? Am I interrupting something important?"

Much as she'd be loathe to do so, Adalia can leave people alone when they need to be alone. She'd rather hang around and talk to Loghain, but if he needs her to fuck off she will do so.

...she might pout when she's gone, though.

iii

[thorndergod]

He is slowly venturing out of the city in wider and wider Circles, taking care with each trip. Free Marchers might object to a Tevinter mage wandering around freely, but Thor would like to know more of the terrain outside the city. He lives here for now. He needs to know the area.

And apparently the area has a wolf-like animal. Thor catches sight of it moving before he spots the man nearby. A few minutes of observation say that they're together, and is that not interesting?

Eventually Thor starts to approach, keeping an eye on the wolf-dog.

"He is with you?" he calls out.

[mactears]

It is very likely that the wolf-dog spots him first, having paused on the crest of a hill to look down at him with eyes given uncanny intelligence by her mabari heritage. When Loghain comes into view behind her, it's with a pair of dead rabbits slung over one shoulder and the lead of a blue roan quarter horse held in the other hand, giving some indication as to what he and his companion animals were doing out here in the wilderness.

At Thor's approach, he fixes a wary look on the man, but relaxes after a moment; his posture is nonthreatening. For now.

"He is with you?"

"She is," Loghain calls out in turn, a confirmation as well as a correction. Slowly, he resumes his walk down the slope, carefully leading Sooty behind him while Primrose, reassured that there is no threat, roams ahead. Loghain glances towards the newcomer, squinting a little. "You strike me as slightly familiar, though I can't place why. Are you with the Inquisition?"

[thorndergod]

Thor smiles at the question, more than a little amused by it as he waits for the man to get closer.

"I am... endeavoring to be with them. There is resistance." It is his own private joke and thus he's more pleased by it than he should be. When the other man reaches him, Thor holds out his hand. "Thor, of house Asgard, of Marnas Pell. You likely saw me helping around the Gallows while the illness was around, as perhaps I saw you."

The man's face should be strong enough to stand in his memories, but without an introduction Thor generally forgot most of who he passed. People in general are background noise when there are important matters at hand. Of course, that was before he knew one hunted with a she-wolf.

[mactears]

"Thor, of house Asgard, of Marnas Pell. You likely saw me helping around the Gallows while the illness was around, as perhaps I saw you."

Loghain's hands are both occupied, one with the copse of dead rabbits, and the other with Sooty's lead rope. He opts for dropping the rope for the moment; Sooty is a gentle-mannered horse, and won't wander off. "Loghain Mac Tir," he responds and accepts the hand that is offered to him, though his expression maintains its almost stern countenance for the time being. He knows precisely where Marnas Pell is. "Yes, I recall your arrival now."

It remains to be seen how he's going to feel about it, in the long term.

"What brings a magister out into the wilderness?"

[thorndergod]

"Loghain Mac Tir," he echoes, wondering at and savoring that name. Isn't this something. He has heard the name, there is a fair chance everyone has, and now he is meeting the man himself. Thor wonders what Odin would do in this moment, but it does not matter in the end. Odin is not here. Thor is.

"If you find a magister in the wilderness you could ask him," he says, returning his hands to his pockets after the shake. "Though I doubt one would travel this far south. They have more important matters to deal with. If you mean to ask what brings an Altus out here, then I am looking over the lay of the land. Corypheus attacked the Inquisition at Haven, by all accounts, and he may choose to attack Kirkwall as it is easier to approach than Skyhold, also by all accounts. And hunting brings the almost-king out here, it seems, but what brought him to Kirkwall in particular?"

in between numbers!!

[exequy]

Given he hasn’t been particular about avoiding colleagues and allies, there would be no reasonable way for Kostos to avoid everyone he’s ever slept with. He doesn’t really try. Some of them he works with frequently; one is his closest friend. He isn’t a child about it.

But Loghain, he hasn’t spoken to since Nevarra. He doesn’t know what to expect. So if he’d noticed who he was joining for the ten-minute trip across the harbor to the Gallows, before turning around would have been obvious, he might have considered it.

In the absence of that option, he refuses to look concerned. He mainly looks at the water. But he says, “Warden,” casually aside in greeting, and also possibly in parting. That would be fine with him.

[mactears]

If there's established etiquette for how to address a former lover after a one-night-stand, Loghain doesn't know what it is.

"Warden," Kostos says to him without eye contact. Loghain looks at him blankly, then away, then back to his face in profile. At the head of the boat, the ferryman pilots them across the channel without seeming to have any interest in the awkward encounter transpiring behind him. Doubtless he's had to suffer through many of them before; one more won't turn his head.

"Kostos," Loghain replies, mainly in greeting, but also because he's at a loss for what else to say. The sound of the boat slipping through the water fills the silence while he hunts for a better response. "I trust you've been well," he settles on eventually. Smooth.

[exequy]

Kostos narrows his eyes and inclines his head in an equivocal swivel: he's not a man who generally admits to being well, but neither is he a man who's going to air his complaints in detail to a near-stranger in a rowboat, so the silent middle ground will do. And he's fairly immune to awkwardness, so there's no merciful elaboration, only an extended pause before he says, "Yourself?"

[mactears]

"I'm well." A pause. "Thank you."

The ferryman ferries them along.

It has occurred to Loghain, off and on in the intervening months since the mission to Nevarra, that if Kostos hadn't come up to him that night and made him that offer that he couldn't refuse, that he might never have looked closely at the years, the decades of complex friendship that he'd shared with Maric. Like going through the world half-awake, the feelings had always been there, intense but unexamined, until Kostos turned up and bluntly made things clear.

(Was that the sort of think you thanked a man for? Probably not.)

"It's my understanding that you've taken over the Northern Powers project," he says at last.

[exequy]

"The Inquisition is truly desperate," Kostos confirms dryly.

That gets the ferryman to turn his head. Not all the way; just one ear angled back toward them. It is likely the alarm of a low-ranking worker who wants to hear good news, rather than any sort of malicious eavesdropping, but Kostos notes it nonetheless. Just in case.

"But it could be worse. They could have chosen another Warden."

ii

[doneisdone]

Most of the shopkeepers have learned their lessons by now, but periodically a new vendor will set up in Lowtown and learn the hard way why everyone tends to just give the tall woman the price she wants and not make a fuss.
It's not that she's threatening them, but Teren's voice carries when she haggles, and her particular turn of phrase isn't a forgiving one. The booths tend to get a wide berth, perhaps from the fear that catching her eye means getting turned to stone.

As Loghain makes his way through the market, he'll hear the familiar dulcet tones of Warden von Skraedder reaming out a rookie leather merchant who is all but hiding behind his wares. That price, for this quality? I'd be better off flaying the damn thing myself and throwing my coin in the sea.

[mactears]

Raised voices attract Loghain's attention away from the set of tack he'd been appraising, and he frowns, squinting in the general direction of the ruckus in question. He takes a few steps out into the street, then grimaces. Yes, he'd recognize that snarling voice anywhere.

There's realistically nothing to be done about intervening on the merchant's behalf; doubtless, he'll either learn his lesson this time, or the next. Or he'll pack up shop and skip town. But Loghain steps just into the periphery of the confrontation, near enough to be spotted by Teren with ease, but not enough to suggest he's going to interfere.

[doneisdone]

The merchant lasts a few more minutes before caving, and just like that, it's over: Teren settles, hands over the coin, retrieves the leather, and all is well in the world. She nearly runs into Loghain when she turns to leave, and stumbles back with a start, clearly not expecting to see him there.

[mactears]

Loghain has to take a hasty step backwards to avoid the collision, and looks momentarily as startled as Teren does. (He really expected her to notice him before nearly walking into him.)

"Teren," he says, more like he's about to say something else than in greeting, then stops short. Ah. Huh.

Yeah, that's a good start.

[doneisdone]

She was too busy dwelling on her triumph, though all of that goes away at the sight of Loghain. Teren hasn't really spoken to him since The Incident, despite having been on an assignment with him; they both saw each other in ways that were less than preferable, and as always her approach to dealing with such things is to avoid them entirely.
"..Loghain," she greets in a similar tone, blushing faintly and hating herself for it. "Hope you're well." Her tone is curt, but not curt enough to save face. Damn.

ii

[tagartist]

Chloe doesn't exactly do a lot of shopping since she's... broke most of the time and not very good at doing the things that will actually get her paid so she could be Less Broke, but today is not one of those days, and it's spent looking for anything cheap she could maybe use to try and see if she can do some bullshitted chemistry experiments now that Anders gone and put that in her head.

It means, mostly, she's looking for things that she might be able to properly blow up. That's really the aim here.

But she's easily distracted, apparently, since as soon as she spots Loghain, she stands a little straighter because honestly she'd remember that dude anywhere. The first face she'd actually seen upon arriving here and one that was particularly fucking intimidating in the long run. Not that it stops her from going, "Hey! Lancelot!" when she gets in ear shot to get his attention. Is he looking at dog collars?

This is not nearly as terrifying a thing as she expected.

[mactears]

"Hey! Lancelot!"

He recognizes that voice, and the peculiar nickname. He doesn't fight with a lance at all, let alone a lot, that doesn't make any sense. (Was this one of Anders' off-colour jokes gone rogue?)

The search for a dog collar might, though, once Chloe gets close enough to see the wolf-dog trailing after Loghain through the market. (Her presence seems to be enough to deter pickpockets, too, since Loghain's coinpurse remains firmly attached to his belt.) He squints towards Chloe, against the afternoon sun, and then the corners of his mouth twist into a wry smirk.

"Afternoon," he greets her, his tone gruff but in a kindly sort of way. He glances back to the vendor currently peddling her wares and lifts a hand to indicate he's not interested, then turns to face Chloe properly. "I see you've settled in."

[tagartist]

The moment she sees said wolf-dog as she approaches, there's a grin on her face, and she's trying, hard, to not give in to the desire to pet the badass looking pup. She looks like she wants to ask, but she keeps it in, somehow, maybe, because look, the last time she saw this guy he was destroying demons and she's not entirely sure that she's confident enough to ask someone that tough such a stupid question.

Instead, she picks up one of said collars, looking it over just to have something to do with her hands when she talks.

"Well as someone who has no fucking clue what they're doing can, I guess," she said with a shrug. There's a pause, a glance up at him, and - was she being shy? Chloe Price what the fuck are you doing? "... I never got a chance to, uh - y'know - thank you. For the whole making sure I wasn't some crazy monsters pre-dinner snack."

[mactears]

Primrose pricks her ears up at Chloe's approach, and seems to have more intelligence than your average dog, considering she rests her ears backward against her head a moment later and gives the wolfish tail behind her a slow wag. "Go on then," Loghain tells her gruffly, and she immediately pads forward to nose at Chloe's hand. Pets pls.

At the girl's words of thanks, Loghain looks momentarily taken aback, as though the thought of being thanked for saving her life hadn't occurred to him either in the thick of the fight, or following it. He clears his throat and takes an interest in the wares at another vendor's stall briefly, enough to give his gaze something firm to settle upon. "Well," he starts, sounding as though some other words might follow shortly, but they don't. He looks back to her, brows drawing together into a frown. "You're welcome," he decides at last, "but you truthfully have nothing to thank me for."

He pauses, considering, then says, "You may call me Loghain. Forgive me, but I don't recall your name."

[tagartist]

Score! She doesn't even hesitate before the collar she'd been looking at is chucked back onto the pile to free up her hands, bending down so she's completely level with Primrose for maximum ear scratching. If there was a way to make her day brighter, this was it.

You truthfully have nothing to thank me for makes her forehead wrinkle mid-pet, though, her eyes glancing back up at him to see if he was serious. "Dude, I would've definitely died. That's not nothing." She feels like that's important to stress. More than offering her name right away. Especially when, in spite of the thanks, he was absolutely still getting called Lancelot, even as she made a note to store the name 'Loghain' somewhere in her memory so she didn't forget who he actually was.

"It's Chloe."