The Days That Bind Us 2: Still Bound

[exequy]

WHO: Mages, anyone else who cares
WHAT: Give us liberty or give us potatoes, or: a most noble strike for a most noble purpose, or: pissy mage babies throw a tantrum
WHEN: 14-19 Cloudreach 9:44
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: This is for consolidating RP regarding the strike. Your character doesn't have to be striking themselves to top-level or tag around, as long as it's tangentially related.

The morning of Cloudreach 14, with minimal fanfare, a significant fraction of the Circle mages working with the Inquisition across Thedas stops showing up for work. On the other hand, a significant fraction doesn't stop. But the not-working fraction is significant enough to cause problems, and for the Inquisition to not delay or prolong the discussions already set to take place at Skyhold with a few representatives of the aggrieved mages and a number of Templar and Chantry representatives.

In the Gallows, most of the mages who are refusing to work relocate—voluntarily, unless being scowled at by Kostos Averesch qualifies as being forced against one's will—to the dusty recruits' quarters in the former Templar tower for an indefinite, politicized slumber party, featuring uncomfortable bunk beds and a lot of unseasoned starches. For a cause.

ooc | Remember that striking characters are generally losing access to confidential information, Inquisition equipment or materials, and any amenities, comforts, or privileges beyond the "plain potatoes for dinner" and "not thrown out into the streets" level.

Comments

gervais vauquelin.

[dissono]

( there is a certain air of ruefulness about gervais as he joins the rest of his fellows in their probably temporary new quarters. timing has meant that effectively, the first thing he does as a member of the inquisition is 'refuse to work'—it isn't quite what he'd envisioned, when he'd first set out for kirkwall. nor did he envision, when packing up his things in the central tower, that he would be arriving accompanied by wren's milk-white mabari; her attentiveness at his heels, more than his decision to strike, briefly pricks at his conscience on the way down the stairs.

he hadn't actually intended to steal her dog.

that it was purely unintentional canine sedition is something of a consolation, but in any case, when he puts his belongings—largely unremarkable and for now still few enough to fit in an easily carried satchel—down on an unoccupied bed, preudame clambers up on after it, turns in a meaningful circle, and lays down. he scratches her behind the ears, hums something vaguely approving, and sets himself up with a desk-tray at the other end, for the purpose of maintaining correspondence.

if preudame comes increasingly, incrementally closer during his writing, he makes no objection. nor does he object to anyone else's company. )

[exequy]

[ Part of one of the jobs Kostos is currently jeopardizing involves knowing who everyone in the Gallows is—important for knowing who shouldn't be here in the first place, among other things—so he doesn't have to ask Gervais' name. But neither job requires keeping up with animals, so it's only on his third pass across the room during the first day that he stops and frowns at the dog.

It's a gentler frown than he aims at most people. ]

Is that Commander Coupe's dog?

[ Gentler for now. If the dog has been spent to spy, or will shortly be grounds for accusations of sinister dognapping, he'll reconsider the severity. ]

[dissono]

( preudame, so called out, lays her enormous mabari head heavily against gervais's slightly bent knee, slowly but surely bearing it down flat to his bunk. he twitches the letter he's reading to one side and regards her with an expression not entirely dissimilar to kostos', if vastly more understated, and tinged in its muted way with some affection.

a nod. yes, that is indeed coupe's dog. )

Sh-sh-sh-sh, she, ah, she invited herself, ah, a-a-, ah, along.


Enjoys my, ah, my company.

( apparently. he considers some manner of joke about hostages, but passes on attempting to actually get it out quick enough to be considered witty and not, you know, a genuine threat of sinister dognapping. )

[exequy]

[ Despite being a little finicky about the outdoors and overall the sort of person who mistakes small rodent tracks for, possibly, lions', Kostos might qualify as an animal person. In the case of mabari, that includes giving them the respect they're due. It isn't unfair to expect she has some idea what she's doing—a limited idea, but a better one than a fluffy things in Orlais that will shift allegiance for a slice of ham—and to hold her somewhat accountable for her own actions.

So his question is directed toward Gervais, who is at least a somewhat more coherent communicator than an animal, but his expression of warily withheld judgment remains directed at Preudame. ]

Will that become a problem for us?

[dissono]

( there are a number of things he could say to that. a number of good points that he could make, about whether the dog or the mage is likely to be the larger problem on a scale of one to wren coupe, and eventually what he settles on is, )

We, we, ah, w-we ha-have already been, ah, been. Been sharing a bed.

( please pick up what he's putting down here, kostos. he ain't fereldan, so it can't be that. )

[exequy]

[ He doesn't pick it up—but in a spiteful way, the metaphorical equivalent of looking at something held toward him and then ignoring it, because he doesn't want it. Really. Please keep it. ]

I am not sure stealing her dog over the long term is better.

[ He reproachful look cuts to the dog instead. ]

Aren't you meant to imprint on people permanently?

[foundmyselfagain]

I wasn't aware that we were adding dogs to the ranks of discontented mages. But I suppose once we let Fereldens in, it became anything goes.

[ Not that Gareth minds the dog. Whatever comforts helped make the stay here easier.

He plops in a bunk across from Gervais, a cheerful, almost careless smile on his face, like this was a social club, rather than a gathering of rebels. ]

You just came here, right? Promise, we aren't usually doing this. Hopefully, we won't have to do it again. I mean--That's probably a pipe dream, because, yanno. [ A vague hand wave. ] Ran and funded by people who never gave a shit until we made enough noise they couldn't ignore it. But, hey! Here we are, back to making noise. Maybe they'll hear us again.

[dissono]

( the slightest lift of an eyebrow, and a so-so gesture—maybe. maybe not. but what matters a lack of optimism when principle is on the line; the opportunity to do what he had not done, several years now past, and hold fast with his fellows. for whatever good it's actually going to do them.

he will be interested to see what, if any, concessions are made. this will do something. whether or not it'll be anything meaningful remains to be seen. )

It, ah, it—it will be, ah, ah, a question of. If they will, will, will, w-will listen.

( and then, after a moment's pause, laying a hand on preudame's heavy neck, ) N-n-naturalized Or, or, orlesian. The dog.

[foundmyselfagain]

They’d better, if they know what's good for them.

[ The cloudy look on his face hints that he would be happy to personally make sure of that. But he knows better than to state anything quite so radical in a large, public room, in front of a man he doesn't know. ]

You spoke during the discussion of what to do about the phylacteries over the crystal, didn’t you? [ His voice is kind of distinctive. ] Thank you, for doing that. I’m glad that we’ve got people here who have more experience, who are older. It’s a lot easier to write off someone who was a teenager when his Circle fell.

[dissono]

( the weight of gervais's hand on gareth's elbow—companionable, avuncular—is light, light enough to shake off, far less than the weight of his steady, stoic gaze. the warmth is in the gesture, if not his face; gareth might draw his own conclusions about what might have forged such stillness, in all those years in the spire. )

I, I, ah, I—I maybe, ah, would, w-would, would look different. If the Circles, they, if they, ah, if they fell in, in my youth. And n-n-not yours.

( a pat. he lets go. )

M-m-more like you, maybe. It is. Easier, it, it, it is—it shouldn't be.

( but if he can lend them gravitas, then good. )

[foundmyselfagain]

[ Gareth doesn't return the touch, but he doesn't rebuke it, either. ]

Well, you managed to live past 30, so you were probably smarter at my age than I am. Maybe if I were in a normal Circle--'normal'--[ He even does the air quotes. Normal, as in not controlled by a batshit red lyrium-addled Meredith. With her at the wheel, Gareth was a ticking time bomb, the Chantry just exploded before he did. ] But you know what I mean.

You know, the Circles were founded with a strike. I wonder if there were any more strikes afterwards. I never heard of any, but I can't imagine the Templars really wanted us to know about any more.

[dissono]

H-h-history is, ah, is, is, is what the present, ah, requires. It to be.

( in time, he thinks: this, too. a tomorrow problem. a problem for other men, after he is long dead. he doesn't wonder what they'll say, precisely, but he might spare a thought for wondering who will be saying it, and to what audience. )

Ssss-suh-so are we.