[OPEN] Get out of bed, get a hammer and a nail

[nadasharillen]

WHO: Nari and you!
WHAT: Open for Drakonis
WHEN: Throughout the month
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Darktown Stuff, general CW for mention of character death and related grief, other CWs posted in their specific threads

Much like the month itself, Nahariel slips between foul and fair as the tight bud of her grief shows the very first small signs of opening. On the good days there are faint smiles, on very good the warm chuckle that so easily issued from her before Sina's death. On the bad days her feet drag to her work, she stares at the plans she'd begun to draft for too long before making new marks. On very bad days her time is spent curled in bed staring dully at the ceiling or down at the Gallows docks no matter the weather, monosyllabic at her most talkative.

Either way, the world turns onward.

[Not necessary, but feel free to specify if you'd like a good day or a garbage day in your header!]

I. Hightown

Being near the blackened ruins of the Chantry Forest is still difficult. Despite that, Nari can regularly be found walking to and from the area. Sometimes it's to harvest what uncharred heartwood can be salvaged from the charcoal spires that once were trees. Most often it's to the still-standing grove where the statue of Andraste reaches out her hand to care for the space; clearing away wilted offerings, spent candles and the spilled wax around them, replacing papers or notes that have been tugged by the wind out from under the rocks that held them. And, when the ground begins to thaw, turning over the soil in preparation for planting the first beds of flowers.

Sometimes she can be heard murmuring as if conversing quietly with someone, although there is no-one there.


II. Darktown

The elf's initial survey of the area, its strengths and weaknesses (mostly the latter), has begun. When she isn't pacing out spaces and taking scrawled but detailed notes with the aid of one or two volunteers (you, perhaps?), she's bent over a table covered in drafting tools and rolls of cheap parchment with a quill or charcoal stick in her hand, the appropriate smudges on her skin, and a look of intense concentration that wrinkles the Crafter God's vallaslin spread across her brow, the humble beginnings of her plans appearing.

Sometimes the wind howls through the space like a wounded beast, grabbing at the edges of her plans, and once in a great while it wins, sending her sprinting and wide-eyed after them, Dalish curses bursting from her like the first blast of water through a broken dam.


III. Wildcard

When she's not doing these things she's sitting around carving in various places; little figures, a complex bracelet, a set of odd and complicated dice, something that looks like it might be a handle, boxes that she sells for a little extra income. Fixing chairs and tables in the Hanged Man (a neverending task), trying to get back into fighting shape in the courtyard, walking everywhere, visiting you, something else entirely!

Comments

FERN - Moving Day

[nadasharillen]

Nari hasn't been back to the space she shared with Sina since her clansister had taken her last breath. Memories lanced through her heart sharp enough to make her wince whenever she considered it. She'd never live there again, it was too much, but now that Myr had offered her the unused bed in his quarters, it was time to go back. She wouldn't take space that could be used by another any longer, and there were things she wanted--needed--within that room.

Those desires weren't enough to give her the strength to do it alone, however, which means she's waiting down near her old quarters for someone else who'd know a little of what it meant to walk through that door.

[wheretheferngrows]

When Fern arrives, it's with a little cloth satchel slung over her shoulders--mostly empty, for now, but likely soon to be filled with little mementos and trinkets of Sina's for her and Nari to take away with them. More than grief, what she feels now is dread, and guilt; that this isn't her place, that Sorrel should be here instead.

She comes up to Nari's side and gently touches her arm, smiling a little sadly as she does so. "I'm ready," she tells her, not bothering with a greeting, or with small talk. They know why they're together today.

[nadasharillen]

Having been lost in thought, Nari jumps slightly at Fern's touch. Soon enough she's nodding and offering a small apologetic smile at having done so.

She leads the rest of the way to the door. It takes the space of a long breath for her to put her hand on the latch, and two more to press it open. There's the creak, the one she'd so oft bemoaned but never fixed (she'd liked the look of fond long-suffering amusement Sina would bestow on her), and it's like traveling through time. She'll open the door, and Sina will be standing by the small window, her fingers gentle on the leaves of the plant she kept inside, the mousey brown soft wave of her hair spread across her thin shoulders, and she'll turn, and her face will light up at her clansister's return, full of stories of what had bloomed that day, what a child had said, and--

Nahariel has stopped breathing, her jaw clamped shut, her eyes staring at the slightly open door with a warring mix of helpless hope and fear, her fingernails biting into the wood of the frame.

[wheretheferngrows]

At her hesitation, Fern's hand again settles gently on Nari's arm. "It's all right," she assures her quietly. "I'll go in with you." She's not sure where this wellspring of strength has come from, but she isn't about to question it.

Fern reaches out to touch the latch as well and gently coaxes it the rest of the way open, allowing in the light.

[nadasharillen]

Fern's touch seemingly restarts the older woman with a shudder, and she breathes in audibly through her nose. The light comes in; slanting across the dusty floor, motes kicked up by the door's movement floating lazily through the beam.

There was her bed, as rumpled as she'd left it, the clan-woven blanket on top haphazardly tossed to the end and left where it had fallen the morning of the day Sina died. A small window lets light in on the other side, the hoped for green of the plant that sits where the light falls on an end-table a bare papery brown, curled leaves dropped in and around its pot, among the small herd of halla figurines of various sizes that surround it. Sina's too neat bed, un-slept in for longer than Nari's, a thick group of pale scarves in varying hues hanging from the nearest carved post.

Turning to look at Fern as if to reassure herself, Nari heads in.

[wheretheferngrows]

After a moment's hesitation, Fern follows her in.

She'd never visited Sina at her house, had only shared the few moments of their intimate friendship in the Chantry forest; but it's not difficult to imagine this place as it might have been in the past, a lively little sanctuary for two clansisters to return to after a day spent dealing with Inquisition business. Fern steps quietly through the motes of dust floating through the beams of light and approaches the plant by the window, reaches out a hand to touch the dead brown leaves that have fallen around it. Nothing to be done about fallen leaves, but... "I think it's still wick," she tells Nari with a quick glance at her over her shoulder.

Her eyes drop to the halla figurines, and she picks one of them up, holding it gently.

I

[gatheringstorm]

What remains of the Chantry Forest is the only reason reason Korrin ever ventures past the Hightown market. The area was important to Sina, after all, and it isn't difficult to guess that's where Nahariel spends a significant portion of her time. In fact, she spots her Dalish friend a short distance away, ahead of it. With Korrin's long legs, it doesn't take more than a few steps to close the distance enough.

"Hey, Nari. Want any help today?" Tending to the land isn't something innate to her, but she figures the ability to follow directions and having at least a foot more in height might count for something. And anyway, she's been meaning to check up on Nari. This seems a perfect opportunity, as long as she's in the mood.

[nadasharillen]

The day had not begun well, but the familiar voice lifts some of the grey from Nari's surroundings.

"Korrin," she replies with a nod, her face weary but obviously pleased to see the woman approaching her. "I wouldn't say no to another pair of hands. Or even just some company that isn't staring at me like I could tear a branch off the nearest tree with my teeth and rush them at any moment."

That wasn't fair, it wasn't always like that, but Nari's not particularly inclined to be fair today.

[gatheringstorm]

And Korrin doesn't care in the slightest, as evidenced by that snort of hers. Nari's been through a lot, and the humans of Hightown have hardly made them easier. Between them, the Vashtoth will always choose the Dalish woman over the font of bigotry that humans often are without any provocation.

"Hopefully I can take some of the heat off from you; I am a 'scary qunari' after all. But fuck 'em anyway, we've done nothing wrong and they can just deal. Whatever you need doing, I've got some time to spare."

[nadasharillen]

The derisive snort, 'scary qunari', and 'fuck 'em anyway' are enough to put a smile on Nari's face, and she nods. "I was thinking it might be a good day to topple and harvest what I can from a couple trees, before they end up firewood. Again." She's not bitter, not at all. "There's good wood left in them, they'll need clearing in any case, and I want to save as much of it for the people who actually cared as I can. It'll go much faster with two."

[gatheringstorm]

Sina's trees turning to firewood has Korrin scowling, thinking Nari has every reason to be bitter. Nari's clansister poured her magic into in order to create something beautiful, and greed has severely diminished it. She nods, still furious at the thought but her sense of practicality remains.

"Then that's what we'll do. It's unfair that those of us who tried to defend it were drowned out by louder -asshole- voices, but we can still salvage something. And if you're hungry by the time we're done, join me for dinner at my place."

[nadasharillen]

"At least it's already fire-tempered," Nari says with a sigh, "They might make for good staves." She shoulders the axe she brought and points her chin at a stand of the stark black spires, heading off towards them.

"I appreciate the invitation. And your hospitality," she says as they walk, "Having somewhere to go meant a great deal, even if I didn't always seem thankful. I've a room now," somewhere she can actually go without the silence having a palpable presence, "but I hope dinner might be a repeatable affair? Don't tell Lux," she says with a crooked smile, "but I miss him."

And also you.

MYR - Moving Day (Evening)

[nadasharillen]

It had been... a day.

But here it ended, the sun setting, and Nari sat on the Dahlasanor-made blanket spread on her new bed with her bare feet tucked beneath her arranging a small herd of halla figurines near a glass aravel on the small desk at its end. The rest of the desk was carefully organized tools, spools of wire, rolled scrolls of parchment, quills in various stages of being tempered and stripped, a few projects still unfinished. A thin volume of Antivan songs, surrounded by a circlet of softly glowing ever-blooming flowers, all resting on what seems to be a sketched drawing of some sort. Beneath the bed and leaning against the wall are bits and pieces of wood; long and short, thick and thin, all sorted into their types, all carefully placed so that nothing would stick out far enough to get into Myr's way or pose a danger.

A few tunics, a few pair of leggings. A set of leathers, a set of daggers, one hunting knife, a belt with pouches hanging from the desk's chair. A few pale scarves folded with the utmost care, a well worn (and well cared for) pair of boots at the door.

This, the sum total of her belongings.

It feels like an ending, or a beginning, and she's not sure which. While contemplating this, her ears perk up at the sound of a soft chime. Then, after a short while, another, louder this time. Once there's a noise at the door, she calls a quiet greeting so as not to startle the returning man with her presence.

"Welcome back, Myr."

[faithlikeaseed]

It's been a day indeed. Perhaps not so long or heartsore a one for Myr as it was for Nari, but busy and distracting enough he's glad of her greeting to remind him that yes, today was when she'd planned to move in, and here she is. There's still a moment's hesitation--faint surprise--before he lets himself in, but he's a smile for her once he does. "Thanks--and welcome to you, too. The Comtesse didn't give you any trouble, did she?"

The nug in question lifts her head from her diminutive prayer pillow at the sound of her name and gives an imperious squeak. Her, be so ill-mannered as to give anyone trouble? Perish the thought! ...Though now that her person is back, it is high time she go investigate these changes to her space properly. She stands, stretching fore and aft before scrambling down to the floor and trotting over to the nearest of the wood bits. There's a gleam of avarice in her inkdrop eyes--

"Don't you dare," Myr warns, from where he's putting up his staff. "Nothing she's brought with her is food, you glutton."

[nadasharillen]

Nari follows the nug's progress across the floor with light amusement at her self-assured air of nobility. The Comtesse certainly deserves her title.

"Nothing I've brought with me is food," she says, "so I'm not sure what she'd even be after."

[faithlikeaseed]

"Anything she can fit in her mouth." Off come his gloves and scarf and boots, each racked neatly in its accustomed space so he can find them again next he goes out. "I was an hour late with her breakfast once and she chewed holes in my favorite blanket out of pique. Nugs are a menace, I tell you."

The Comtesse pins her ears back at the rebuke, looking between Myr and the piece of wood, the wood and Myr, then up at Nari with an air of calculation. Defiantly, she places one tiny delicate hand on the subject of her investigations. Try to stop her.

[nadasharillen]

The wood in question is an interesting bit she'd picked up in the Planasene during her last foray there, which means it's got... feelings... attached to it, so Nari gently bends to retrieve it from under the Comtesse's hand--most likely earning some small reproach--and then stretches to her desk to find her whittling knife to strip off a curl of bark to offer the stately nug in an attempt to make amends.

COLIN - Trash Mammals!

[nadasharillen]

When she heard the Inquisition didn't mean to officially sponsor the work efforts in Darktown, Nari was incensed. After all, it seemed like every other hurdle she'd run into was built around the importance of their relations with the city of Kirkwall. Here it was, the first project she was taking part in that had a direct positive impact for the city, and it was to be undertaken in their personal time and neither in the Inquisition's name nor with their resources.

She could puzzle at it until they carved her funeral staff and planted a tree over her cold curled body and she would still never understand shem'len politics.

Despite this, her mind was already whirling with the possibilities of the work she could do in the city beneath. This is how she came to be hip deep in a pile of scrap, discards, and garbage (glad again for her sturdy pair of boots) in search of whatever useful bits and pieces could be found.

"You know," she calls to Colin with surprising good nature for what her hands were currently touching, "Hightown is good for one thing at least. What they call ruined up there is still a fair treasure."

[keenly]

Colin is digging through the garbage with a broken pole he found. Right now, he has spotted an old tarpaulin underneath the muck and is in the process of working it out from under everything.

"Rich people," he agrees. "Instead of mending things, they throw them away."

[nadasharillen]

"Tell me if you run into any chunks of white stone over there," Nari replies, wondering absently if she could find herself a pole, and continuing to doggedly push her way through the pile in a sort of straggling lopsided grid pattern. "There're repairs and renovations going on at the Asgard estate, and they broke down some of the place for an addition. None of it'll still be whole blocks, but that doesn't matter." Her foot squelches into... something, and she's suddenly assaulted by the smell of rotten produce.

"Oh, void, that's rank." Oh well, nothing for it. Poor boots. "If we're really lucky, there'll be a sixth-shipment of warped wood down in one of these heaps somewhere. Same project. Some greedy dahn'direlast merchant tried to hide it in the rest to pull one over on the foreigners. Some of it could have been cut and saved, but the foreman wanted to make an example of him and ordered all of it chucked on principle."

Of course, it's very possible none of that made it down here at all.

SIMON - Tool Time (open to Myr)

[nadasharillen]

Simon Ashlock showing up at their door was always a source of obvious delight to Myr, and it quickly became one for Nahariel as well; first because watching both Templar and mage light up and soften once the outside world had lost its power was absolutely endearing, and then because she found herself genuinely enjoying the human's company.

One afternoon, with Myr caught up longer that usual (excited about something, probably), it's just Nari there to welcome him--although she does so by calling that the door's open, since her hands are buried in some kind of wooden mechanism that she's staring at intently and moving back and forth.

"Afternoon--Myr's not back yet, but you're welcome to wait for him," she says, not looking up.

[paladingus]

Simon's interactions with Nari, though brief, have historically been pleasant. He's thought of her as a bridge-builder, willing to reach out a hand of fellowship across the bounds of religious difference--and with a notable exception or two, he's almost always inclined to trust anyone Myr likes. Fern's endorsement is icing on the cake. She's kind and easy to talk to, and she quickly comes to merit a warm smile whenever he shows up at the door.

Today, though, he's nearly as distracted by the mechanism as Nari is. "That's fine," he says absently, tilting his head to study it as he closes the door behind him and sits down on Myr's bed. "Did you carve that all? Can I see how it fits together?"

[nadasharillen]

The request makes Nari look up from the bits with vague surprise on her face until she remembers the scattered tools that had been part of the cyclonic state of the room Simon and Cade had been sharing during the illness; the surprise relaxes to a grin instead, and she scoots her chair to the side so Simon has room at the desk as well.

"Yes and yes. It's nothing quite yet," she says--the traditional warning of a self-conscious artisan--before handing him the disparate pieces, showing him quickly how they fit into each other before leaning back to let Simon explore it as she'd been doing, "but I'm playing around with different ways to make compartments open besides a simple spring. Something like a lock, but with a key that needs to be known rather than one that could be found."

[paladingus]

He nods along with the explanation, trying to keep his eyes from straying from her face back to the wooden pieces as she talks, though the temptation soon overcomes him and he begins to study them in fascinated earnest.

"Like a passcode," he asks, "except that you'd need to press each bit in sequence? Or something of the sort?"

[nadasharillen]

"Exactly," Nari replies, pleased, "I've not quite figured out where to place it, nor if I want it to be triggered by a single press plate held and released a number of times or several different ones that have an order to them, but that's the center of it. I'd rather it be more elegant than overly complex," she continues, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile, "even if no-one will ever look at it again, I'll know it's there."

She leans back, watching Simon fiddle with the pieces, "Those were your tools everywhere, then?"