[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

[nadasharillen]

"Animals need things to eat," Nari replies with a beatific smile, although her eyes briefly sparkle with mischief. Think of the animals, Korrin. "If you find something you like as a staff base while we're at it, save it out," she says. Then she's up, and searching out a pair of hand saws for them to begin the work of harvesting the downed tree. It was easier with two.

In a number of ways.


[wanna call it there? :D]