faderift | [Closed] Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel

Things at Skyhold have gone, so far, about as well as Julius expected. (He may have hoped for better... but expect, no. Not that.) The perception that keeping the phylacteries represents anything like the status quo is frustrating, but he also thinks that most of the negotiators are acting in something within shouting distance of good faith. No one has come to blows. It could be going worse.

And, even if a small part of him is elated to have a chance to be participating in a matter this important, day to day it is still tiring. The stakes are too high for it to be without stress. It's a game of grinding out consensus by inches, with the Inquisition, with the templars, even with his fellow mages on certain points.

For all it's unreasonably cold on Skyhold's ramparts, the fresh air makes it worth it. And it's quite a view. (He should, however, probably at least be wearing a hat.)

Julius is glad he's here. (He tells himself so often enough that perhaps he should examine the impulse. He doesn't.) It's a lot to take on, but it's a step back toward the type of life he'd expected to lead before the rebellion. Reading people, manuvering without seeming to; it suits him better, in some ways, than poring over reports and research materials back in Kirkwall. Still... the days are long enough as it is, and they all need to find ways to unwind.

He's not looking for Nell, specifically, when he comes back to their quarters; he's mainly just looking for company, and of the people in Skyhold at the moment, his fellow mages seem the most likely to oblige him. And if no one happens to be in... he can work on the flask of mediocre wine he charmed one of the kitchen staff into giving him on his own, he supposes.

Julius' only previous visit to Skyhold had been so brief that he hadn't had a chance to actually see much of the place; Inquisition leadership had been happy to accept his offer to join up, and happily stuck him on the first party heading for Kirkwall as soon as they had.

While the negotiation process didn't leave them much in the way of free time, and Julius didn't want to cause an incident by crossing the wrong templar in some deserted hallway, his natural curiosity has led him to take a few walks when he's able. This afternoon, they'd decided to take a break when it was clear everyone was too tired to productively continue without at least a few hours apart, and he found himself in the garden.

It's a strangely lovely place to find in the middle of a military fortress, and quiet enough at present. Still, quiet only goes so far, so he doesn't hesitate to raise a hand in greeting when he catches sight of his fellow mage. For all they hadn't really known each other before this trip, Julius can't help but feel somewhat warm toward the only three people in Skyhold who can reasonably said to be on his side at present.

Nell has her standard ways of unwinding, which thus far have involved disappearing late in the evenings after they have debriefed the day's efforts and prepared for the next's. She is resolutely optimistic and unwavering in her determination, and if that takes a toll it's not something she's been willing to let her fellow negotiators see.

So it may be a surprise when Julius catches her hunched over on the edge of her bunk, elbows on knees and head in her hands, fingertips dug in between her eyes. She straightens up quickly at the sound of the door opening, smoothing both hands over her hair. "Julius," she greets him evenly, without a hint of embarrassment. She lifts her chin in vague gesture, "Talked your way into the wine cellars?"

Julius does her the favor of pretending not to have noticed the attitude in which he surprised her. "Got it in one. Would you like to share in the spoils of my very minor diplomatic victory this evening?"

He comes to sit on the bunk opposite. "I wasn't able to charm any glassware to go with it, but I'm not above drinking from the flask if you're not." He's a bit looser like this than he is in the negotiating mode. It's easy to imagine him acquiring wine a similar way as an apprentice, less self-possessed but just as charming.

It's okay, Julius. Not everyone can be so beautiful and so fashion-ready for all situations. Marisol has a hat. It's warm, fur-lined, and fabulous. She holds a cigarillo in her hand, the wisps of smoke that would rise from it stolen away by the mountain breeze before they have much change to take shape.

"Enchanter," she says, light and cheery. "Can I interest you in some wine?"

Of course she has wine to hand. Of course.

He glances at her with a smile. "Julius, please. Under the circumstances. And why not, if you don't mind sharing." They've butted heads in private, a few times, but in front of the other parties they've worked well enough together; he doesn't see why they shouldn't be cordial in their leisure time.

"It's quite a view," he adds, "we may as well make the most of it while we're here."

"Not at all." She pours another glass, because of course she had extra glasses to hand. That's just how she do, and she holds it out in offer. "Do you smoke?"

She smiles. "If I were feeling more whimsical, I might decide to say that I am the view, but I think the negotiations are taking their toll."

"I used to," as he takes the glass. "But I wouldn't object to revisiting the habit. Smoking and semi-illicit day drinking, it's adolescence in Kinloch Hold all over again," he adds, light. "I think we've earned a few indulgences, under the circumstances. Though I suppose for you, this hardly counts as indulgent."

It's good-natured enough, if lightly probing. He's not sure the extent to which it's a subject she'll allow herself to be teased.

An amused sounding hum, as she sets down her glass, and produces a golden cigarillo case, flipping the lid open easily. The same hand also holds her current cigarillo between two fingers; obviously its an offer, though not held out as the wine was. He'll need to come to her, after that comment, even if she is good-humoured.

"I lived in the Circles, just as you did. I appreciate the luxuries I have."

Not far, then, for all her mood seems undented. He moves to take the offered cigarillo all the same. "I didn't mean to imply you can't appreciate them," he says, his tone a peace offering. "Thank you for sharing."

He resists defending his original point by pointing out that on what the Inquisition is paying, he could hardly afford a golden cigarillo case if he wanted one; that's no way forward, and he's fairly certain she knows what he meant.

At least he's getting paid at all. (Was. They'll see how the negotiations go.)

"Have you been to Skyhold before?"

Maker, Julius, if you wanted a golden cigarillo case, maybe you should just have more money.

"No. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to come. As much as I relish the cold... I am a creature of comfort." Making fun of herself, a little. "But it is wondrous. There very severity of it, and the falls..."

She interrupts that possible-maybe reverie, and grins. "Have you?"

"Only very briefly," he says, leaning against the rampart idly. "I arrived to volunteer, and was promptly placed on the first wagon for Kirkwall. If I'd known, I could have just gone there directly, it would have been a shorter trip that way."

"Oh no," and she can't help laughing a little bit as she exhales some smoke. "At least the wagon was a rest for your feet. Where did you travel from?"

"I was, in fact, in Antiva when I decided to let nobility get the better of my good sense." If he really thought so, he likely wouldn't say it that way, but... he doesn't not think so entirely. "I quite got a taste for the food before leaving."

"Truly?"

She's delighted, and leans against the balcony, railing, apparently unconcerned by the height. Her gaze has not been uninterested or cold, but something in it warms all the same. "Have you spent any time in Antiva City or Rialto? I think it's especially impressive for nobility to get to you when you're in Antiva."

She likes to play at being a scoundrel.

"It does seem a bit ironic. I was mostly in Antiva City, though I moved around. I was largely doing scribe work -- copying, that sort of thing, so there was more call to be in cities." He smiles, crooked and absently charming more out of habit than a desire to charm her specifically in the moment. "I doubt I saw the best it had to offer, but it was farther out of Ferelden than I ever expected to get."

"Mm, I never considered—" A little tilt of her head, before she sips more wine. "To be trapped in a Circle would be one thing, but to be trapped in a Circle in Ferelden?"

Oof. Her smile, however, is conspiratorial. "I've surprised you didn't get all the way to Rivain."

"I would protest there are parts of Ferelden that are quite lovely, but I suppose I should accurately use the singular and the past tense." Lightly.

"And," of Rivain, "who says I didn't?"

Another sip of wine, during which she makes a quiet sound of acknowledge. "Yes, of course. The parts that lead out of Ferelden are lovely."

A grin, and she sets down the glass. "How far north did you get?"

He's long been canny about exactly where he was, in the years before he joined the Inquisition. But here and now, in the midst of negotiating with templars face-to-face, he has to think it doesn't really matter anymore.

"Llomerryn. Not so far, I suppose, but it left an impression."

[Closed] Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel

For Marisol

For Nell

For Vandelin

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