faderift | [OPEN] May catch-all for some side characters

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[OPEN] May catch-all for some side characters

WHO: Fern, Romola + you??
WHAT: Fern and Romola do things in May, and maybe you're involved in some of them. Come meet a small elven apostate, and an introverted dwarven lampworker-by-day, strange Andrastian cultist-by-night.
WHEN: Throughout May.
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall, outside Kirkwall, /gestures vaguely Around
NOTES: A bit of violence in one of Romola's starters. If you'd like a specific starter for either of them, hmu on plurk @ ragweed or discord @ middlemarching#9936.

FERN

i. a picnic!! (closed to Chloe)

The landscape around Kirkwall isn't especially scenic, but it's more enjoyable to explore now than it was a few months ago when everything was covered completely by snow and ice. That's probably why Fern suggests to Chloe that they venture out a bit into the surrounding area for a picnic; the weather is pleasant enough, for once, and everyone needs a break from work in the Gallows occasionally.

She probably neglected to mention that they'd be venturing out on Rooster. But it's not difficult at all for him to support the weight of two skinny girls and a neatly packed lunch--and mercifully, he doesn't give Fern too much trouble as she guides him through the countryside to what passes for a grassy hillside, here in this part of the Free Marches.

So that's where they are now, with Fern setting out their simple lunch on a blanket beneath the sparse shade of a spindly tree while Rooster forages nearby. She's just settling in when she peers across at Chloe with an uncertain smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Have you told anyone?" she asks at length, then gives her head a knowing little tilt. "About, you know. Us."

Given how new this arrangement is for them, she doesn't expect so--but she figures she'd better ask anyway.

ii. out and about (open)

Fern is fairly easy to spot around the Gallows for the most part, and her schedule has changed only slightly with the arrival of the warmer months and, ahem, some recent developments in her personal life; most of her daylight hours are divided between tending to the growing needs of the Gallows' herb garden, or practicing her magical competency on the training grounds. It's her late afternoons and evenings that she's taken to spending more in the company of a particular blue-haired rifter girl (though she probably thinks she's being quite sneaky about it).

However, it's still not uncommon to find her in the Gallows' stables tending to her mule, Rooster, or out wandering about the Lowtown markets or within the alienage, searching for small trinkets to purchase for herself, or for the garden. (Or for the mule. She may or may not have tied little blue ribbons into his mane for the season.)

ROMOLA

i. The Lampworks (open)

Romola Kader's shop in Lowtown sticks to its regularly posted hours; if the dwarven proprietress herself isn't there to see to patrons, then normally an elderly elven woman is there in her place. The works she has on display are of exquisite quality, begging the occasional question as to what she's doing running this shop in Lowtown rather than in the neighbourhood of the Merchants' Guild in Hightown.

She can usually be found standing behind the counter within her shop quietly sorting through inventory, still wearing her leather apron as well as a pair of glass goggles pushed up to rest against her forehead.

ii. Lowtown at night (open)

She may live and work within her shop, but that doesn't mean she never leaves it.

On this particular late spring night, Romola appears to be making her way back through the labyrinthine Lowtown hexes towards the narrow, back alley entrance to her shop, and she isn't alone. Someone--an opportunistic mugger, perhaps--has been hounding her steps for several blocks.

These sorts of encounters tend to follow a particular script. When the mugger reveals himself, accosting her from the side, she startles and is momentarily caught off-guard; but when she drops whatever small parcel she was carrying, it's not to pull herself free from her assailant's grip, but to grab for a belt knife and slash the sharp blade of it across his arm.

This achieves the desired effect of making him stagger back, but the altercation is far from over. Someone should probably intervene.

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It's taken a lot of courage for Evrion to leave the tower at all, having kept himself cooped up in it for the first few days of his arrival in Kirkwall. This place is massive, many times the size of Ansburg's Circle and with so, so many more people, more than he knows what to do with.
Evry has never been especially shy, but for the sake of his own safety he's been avoidant of the Inquisition's denizens, at least until especially good weather coaxes him out into the herb garden to get some fresh air. He feels naked and alone without his usual entourage of spirit wisps, and his expression is uncertain if pleasant as he picks his way through the planters and rows of herbs.

'Tis the season for mud, dirt, and more mud, especially for gardeners, and so that is where Fern is presently, kneeling in the dirt while carefully beginning the work of removing the warming glyphs that have kept the plants from freezing to death since the first frost. She's rather accustomed to the comings and goings of people through the gardens by now, and is good at distinguishing between people who are just out for a wander from people who are coming to speak with her for some particular reason.

Which is probably why she doesn't look up to greet Evrion for quite some time, content to focus on her work and let whoever is behind her... do whatever it is they're doing, since it doesn't appear to involve her. After a time, though, she sits back onto her knees and wipes off her brow, and in doing so happens to glance his way. Her curiosity is glancing at first, before she does an abrupt double-take, looking back at him in confusion. She frowns, contemplating him, the cogs clicking into place, and then--

"...Evry?"

Historically, the only people who use the name 'Evry' are close to Evrion, and he's learned to distinguish between the nickname and when the word 'every' is being used, which makes it all the more alarming that he hears it. He pauses what he's doing and looks around, his eyes eventually focusing on a face that, while far older than last he saw it, is quite familiar.

His bemused expression splits into a grin of delight at the sight of Fern, and, forgetting all graces, Evrion rushes toward her to wrap her in a tight hug.

For a moment she'd almost doubted herself--until that familiar, crooked smile lit up his face. It is him--!

Fern is quick to scramble up to her feet with a bright, excited laugh, and it's hard to say who reaches whom first, Evrion or Fern. Either way, she is quick to throw her arms around his scrawny shoulders and hug him tightly, so suddenly, unspeakably overwhelmed by feeling that there are tears in her eyes before she even realizes it.

"I thought you were dead!" she blurts out at last, and draws back enough to search his face, happiness and relief now competing with confusion in her expression. She shakes her head, unable to stop smiling. "No one would tell me where you went or what happened to you."

Laughing too, for the sheer joy of it, Evrion almost doesn't want to let go when Fern pulls back. "I was just at the Circle," he replies, as if it were nothing, as if there hadn't been a day of such gut-wrenching tragedy as when he was taken from his family and disappeared from the world; to be fair, although he wasn't all that young, his mind has chosen not to recall the worst of it.
"I would've written if they'd let me," he continues, gripping Fern's shoulders, "but it was years before I learned how, and..." He pauses, just to smile a little wider. "You're so pretty." It's less direct compliment than delighted observation, seeing a boyhood friend anew through a man's eyes, pride swelling in him to know her.

"You're so pretty."

Fern startles at the compliment before blushing, ducking her head in a sheepish smile, but maybe there's just something about the way Evry says the words that reassures her he doesn't mean it That Way. (If nothing else, this is the way she's choosing to interpret it for now.) "Thanks," she says dumbly, fidgeting a bit with the ends of her hair, before she smiles again and grabs hold of his arm. She tugs him over to one of the garden benches to sit down and catch up like they're still just kids, and it was perfectly normal for her to haul him hither and thither as was her whim.

"The Circle, all this time?" she exclaims, eyes widening. "Was it very terrible? My mentor told me awful things about her time in the Circle. Do you know Nell Voss?" She's getting ahead of herself and knows it, but with so much ground to cover after so many years apart, she's not even sure where to begin.

Immediately Evrion feels bad for making her blush, but it passes quickly as Fern tugs him over to the bench. "Ah-- no! I liked it, actually, even if not at first--" He lands on the bench with a thud and laughs. "I'm not sure, there were a lot of people there... but I came back with Enchanter Kostos and Ser Simon, if you know either of them."

She instantaneously brightens at Simon's name, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Oh, yes, I know Simon! He's the one who brought me here, actually. I got caught near a Fade rift and, well."

Fern pulls off one of her gloves with a frown and reveals her anchor shard to Evrion. It rests, mostly dormant, in her palm. "It's complicated everything now," she admits.

Inessa wanders in because she's heard about this place and it's on her way back to the Gallows. Why not investigate and distract herself from Ciri heading to the Anderfels? Gesturing for Garahel to remain outside -she doesn't want him breaking anything- the slight elven woman in Grey Warden attire enters the shop and begins perusing the wares. Upon meeting Romola's gaze, she offers a small smile.

"You're the craftsman? I love your work; they're all uniquely beautiful."

Romola looks up from her bookkeeping work when the small bell above the door jingles, announcing the arrival of a new (prospective) patron. Seeing Inessa, she greets her with a closed-mouth smile that more manifests in her eyes than anywhere else; it's a friendly expression, if reserved.

"I am--thank you," she replies, her Orlesian accent unmistakeable... though unlike what one would probably hear bandied about in Hightown or the fancier parts of Val Royeaux. She flips her business ledger closed and reaches up to remove her work goggles from their place on her forehead, setting them aside, and then slips off of her stool to come around the other side of the counter.

"Are you looking for anything specific?" she asks, courteous and attentive.

The Orlesian accent in a dwarf surprises her a little, though she doesn't let that register more than a brief raised eyebrow. It's curious, but she's not rude enough to pry at someone she'd just met. She glances around, considering.

"Hm...do you have anything draconic-themed? Perhaps in shades of blue?"

It's a common enough reaction to the sound of her voice that Romola's smile takes on a wry, knowing quality, but that is the extent to which she acknowledges the peculiarity. Instead she dips her head consideringly at Inessa's question, her brows pulling into a mild furrow.

"Blue, I have plenty of," she allows and turns towards one of the display cases, resting her fingers against the wood and glass. "I don't receive many requests for dragons. Perhaps some folk are reminded too much of Tevinter." An idle gesture with one of her hands; she doesn't necessarily have any opinions in that regard, but it is one she has heard often enough.

She looks back to the young elf in front of her, taking some note of her Warden blues and drawing a few private inferences. "I would be willing to craft something for you, if you like," she says, then smiles a touch more warmly. "I guarantee a fair price."

Inessa nods at the reply, not terribly surprised that dragons aren't possible with most but...well, she had to ask. Still, the offer is as encouraging as the lack of judgment. She glances over to the door, but hears no barking or other signs that Garahel isn't behaving himself. A little more time can be spared, for this. Her lips curve in a smile and she nods, a touch shyly.

"In that case, I would like to commission such a piece...one fit for a human wrist rather than my own. The person it's meant for is one of those exceptions, and would certainly enjoy having anything draconic."

There's a certain quality to Inessa's shy little smile that Romola suspects she recognizes, though she tries to keep the slight, knowing look in her expression from becoming too familiar. "I see," she replies, then motions for Inessa to follow her again and moves back to the counter. There, she withdraws a leatherbound book that, when opened, reveals a number of different pencil sketches of the types of work she can produce: simple beaded bracelets, those that are more ornate, and others where the glass has been set into either leather or metal-worked bands.

"For these," she adds, gesturing to the latter two categories, "I have an arrangement with a smith in Hightown who produces excellent work. There is a slight mark-up," she adds, "so that he can be fairly compensated."

Then she reaches for a blank piece of paper, takes up a piece of sharpened graphite, and peers Inessa's way again. "Could you describe for me what you would like the piece to look like?"

Inessa nods thoughtfully as she looks over the various options, reminding herself that she doesn't have a large pool of funds to draw from. Still, after receiving that glorious enchanted teapot, she feels the need to return the favor as best she can. "That's quite understandable, of course." She bites her lip, brow furrowing.

"To be honest, I hadn't thought this far ahead. But I'm partial to beads with a dragon scale design, in the shades of blue I mentioned."

Korrin is heading back home after a shift at The Hanged Man, already thinking about how soft and warm her bed is when the sounds of a scuffle reach her ears. And of course it's in the direction she's headed, so there's no ignoring it. Narrowing her eyes, she covers ground rather quickly thanks to those long legs and spots the mugger just as he staggers back.

She knows inserting magic into this would only escalate things and create and incident, but she's a Vashoth. The tall, horned, well-muscled woman doesn't really need magic to stop one mugger. While his attention is on the dwarf, she grabs an arm and twists it way back. "Drop it and run, or I'll let her gut you. Don't think I won't."

"Drop it and run, or I'll let her gut you. Don't think I won't."

"You had better listen to her, monsieur." Romola advances on him one slow step at a time, looking far more menacing than anything her petite size has any right to be, besides maybe a jungle cat. "I will not be so polite next time."

Grunting in pain and with his eyes fixed raptly on that knife, the mugger doesn't need to be told twice. He drops the parcel to the ground and holds up both hands in the universal gesture of surrender, stammering out a weak plea of, "I'm sorry, I'll go--"

Romola keeps her eyes on him as she crouches to gather up her parcel, then glances Korrin's way. A quick nod; she can let him go, if she chooses to.

Romola may be small relative to the other two, but Korrin has long ago learned not to underestimate the ferocity of dwarves when backed into a corner. She smirks as the mugger seems to finally learn that lesson, letting him go upon seeing that nod and shoving him away from them.

"Fuck off, then." Crossing her arms, she doesn't take her eyes off the mugger until he's out of view, upon which her gaze slides over to the dwarven woman. "You know how to use that knife. Does that happen often?"

With the mugger sorted, Romola is now looking through the contents of her parcel with a grimace, sighing with some dismay over what she sees: the shattered remains of several long rods of coloured glass, ostensibly to be used in her work. She almost doesn't hear Korrin's words at first, before recalling her rescuer, and looks up to her with an expression of mingled gratitude and disappointment--not with Korrin, of course. But with herself.

"Often enough to cause me difficulty." As in, one instance of it is more than enough. She sighs and slips the knife back into its sheath at her hip, then gives Korrin a brief, closed-mouth smile. "Thank you for aiding me."

That dismay doesn't go unnoticed and Korrin is tempted to seek out that mugger anyway...but Romola's presence keeps her from doing anything too rash. She nods, taking in the sight of shattered glass with a small frown.

"You're welcome. The name's Korrin, by the way. Where are you headed? If it's on the way, you can have my presence to ward off anyone who'd try that shit twice in one night." And unless it's up to Hightown, it's on the way for Korrin. Even then, she'd at least see her to the entrance and keep an eye out for any lowlifes.

Fern (ii)

Nahariel makes a point of coming to visit the herb garden every few days with some small trinket or another once she realized Fern was collecting them. Today it's a selection of extra flowers from the planting going on in the Memorial Garden with their root balls bound up in cloth.

"Fern?" she calls as she steps through the archway, scanning for the young woman, "Have you got room somewhere for a few ornamental plants? I think the bees will like them."

Romola (i)

The elf is back again. With a bright smile, Nari nods a greeting to the dwarven artisan behind the counter, approaching to look interestedly at the new pieces that Romola has made since her last visit. She hums appreciatively and smiles brightly by way of greeting, then pulls a little cloth bag from her satchel and pulls a few things from it: a ring, a couple of different pendants, a handful of various shapes and sizes of bead. All wood of different colours, all oiled and polished to a smooth bright shine. The ring and pendants have a few artfully placed holes in them suitable perhaps for the addition of glass.

"This is what I was talking about-- if you're interested at all in perhaps working together once in a while?"

She's got dirt all over her knees and gloved hands, and a bit of it in her hair when Nari arrives bearing gifts, but rather than appear chagrined over her appearance, Fern simply brightens with a smile. "Oh, wonderful! Yes, we certainly do have room, just a moment--"

Up she gets, patting off the worst of the dirt and clapping her gloves together to get rid of the clumps, then motions Nari over to a corner of the garden with freshly tilled soil. "The sunlight will be quite strong here during the summer, I think," she says, hands on her hips as she surveys the soil with confidence and (limited) expertise; she's been doing this for quite a while now. Inquisitive, she reaches for the lavender, inspecting their roots. "We should transplant them quickly, I think."

Seeing the dirt-smudged elf dug into garden work makes Nari's heart warm with the memories of sunny days and a similar greeting from Sina. It's right that Fern took over the work. At the younger woman's reach, Nari is more than happy to turn the plants over to someone who knows what they're doing with them (and is fairly sure the plants, perhaps sensing doom on her, share that enthusiasm).

"It's nice to see things beginning to come up," she remarks with a smile, looking at all the bright fresh green that's begun to blanket the space. "I'd been worried that all the rain might be too much." Although whatever could grow here around Kirkwall was probably used to being half-drowned sometimes.

Chloe can honestly say she's never actually expected to ride a mule in her life, but here she is, on her way to a picnic on Rooster's back. She'd at least gotten herself comfortable enough (it wasn't hard when it meant she got to sit close to Fern, alright) and it hadn't taken that long to get to a nice picnic place anyway. She pulled herself off, brushing off her pants and going to try and help her lay out the blanket and get lunch set up.

The question surprises her, though, and she looks up with a brow arched. Us. It still brings a small smile to her lips, makes her feel a warmth in her that she can't credit to the spring sunshine. "Oh, yeah. Loads of people. I'm little Miss Popular around here and I just couldn't keep it to myself for too long." Sarcasm really shouldn't be a default for any conversation.

She shook her head finally, though, once she'd gotten the knee jerk reaction out. "I mean, there's only maybe... two people I'd talk to about it anyway, but I wasn't sure if you wanted anyone to know yet."

Fern's little smile grows a touch cheeky at Chloe's sarcasm, and as though immune to the little bristles of her personality, leans in enough to dot a kiss to her cheek. "Well that's their loss," she replies smartly, then reaches into the basket to fish out a few wrapped apple slices. (She devours them with all the grace of a girl raised on a farm competing with a legion of brothers with hollow bones for resources.)

"...I wasn't sure if you wanted anyone to know yet."

A good point--one which makes Fern's stomach flip a little with anxiety. (Nevermind what Finch will think, what about Beleth and Sorrel--? Or Nari?)

"I don't want to keep it a secret," she decides abruptly, chewing at her lower lip, "but I also... I think I told you, once, that people here don't like elves very much?" A pause, searching Chloe's face, before she admits, "Well they--they really don't like it when elves and humans are, you know. Together."

Wanting to actually tell people about them was an improvement at least; other than as a means of pissing off her parents, Rachel had always been so vague about where they stood, with her certainly but even more so with their peers. It left Chloe with a swell of joy she hadn’t expected. She wanted to tell others and she wasn’t embarrassed to be with her.

The worry was understandable, though. She didn’t know how hard the backlash could be, but if there was one thing Chloe Price was good at, it was not giving a fuck about what other people thought about who she loved.

“I’m used to it,” she said after a moment. “At home, girls dating is kind of a... frowned upon thing in general, and then on top of it I was a poor kid around a lot of rich people. I’m used to my relationships being the kind of thing people get their noses all out of whack over.”

It's funny how Chloe can string together a bunch of words that, individually, Fern knows what they mean, and yet when tossed together into a sentence, leave her momentarily bewildered. "'All out of...'" she starts to repeat, eyebrows drawing together into a little frown, but she sorts out the gist of it quickly enough, "--oh, yes." Idioms! She learns something new every day with you, Chloe.

But it's what she said just before that which really holds Fern's attention, and she fiddles absently with the edge of a bit of wax paper folded around a savoury pastry. (There's a little ant crawling across it, which she rescues with one fingernail and returns to a blade of grass.) "You know, not having very much never really bothered me, until I came here. Not that we were as badly off as some elves are," she adds hastily, lest Chloe think she's trying to make her circumstances out to be worse than they were, "you know, we had the farm to work and the sheep to tend to, and Farmer Heinrich pays my parents fair. It wasn't like it is here in the alienage. But..."

But, she could say, it's hard not to think of how Nell described her own childhood in the Circle, and all the education and training she received, the potential that was nurtured within her by her peers and mentors--even if it all came tumbling down later, that she even had those opportunities fills Fern with bitter envy when she lets herself think about it for too long.

"...still, people look at you differently, once they find out you can't read. Or you don't know some simple creation spell that all apprentices get taught in the Circles, because you weren't raised in one." She snorts. "Not that any of them would know the first thing about how to sheer a sheep, or what to do to prepare for lambing season." Quieter, "That didn't stop them from being quite awful, at first."

There was a twitch of a smile when she had tried to figure out the turn of phrase, ready to explain if necessary, and glad to see she'd been able to piece it all together on her own. It was... adorable. Really, really adorable. She stifled down any amusement so that it didn't come across like she was making fun of her, though, and focused instead on what she had to say.

It's still strange to think that the things she took for granted are things only people with more money could afford in this place; but she gets the general sentiment, remembering how out of place she'd felt among kids with top of the line paints, and cameras that cost more than her entire wardrobe, and smart phones while she'd been stuck with out dated technology and whatever was on her parents free upgrade list. She knew how terrible people could be when you were remotely different in status and how badly it could hurt.

She paused in thought, before going to lace her fingers with Fern's. "Well, I hope they eventually realized what they were missing out on."

"Well, I hope they eventually realized what they were missing out on."

Chloe's hand in hers is warm, and Fern ducks her head with a shy smile. How is it that such a little touch coupled with some tender words can make her heart flutter like this? "Well they stopped saying those things, at any rate," she says, absently stroking her thumb across Chloe's. Fern brings their hands up to kiss her knuckles fondly, then shifts across the blanket to rest her cheek against Chloe's shoulder; it's still such a delightful novelty for her, not only to have this intimacy, but to actually want it at all. (No offence, Finch.)

For a few minutes she seems more than content to enjoy a spell of companionable silence with Chloe, interrupted only occasionally by reaching out to make short work of the food they've brought with them for today's outing. She's nibbling on a carrot when she muses aloud at last, "I thought I might tell Nari first. She and Sina were from the same clan; I think she's taken me under her wing a bit since she died." A pause, before she chews at the corner of her mouth nervously. "She seems to like humans well enough, I don't think she'll be upset."

The kiss left Chloe's hand feeling warm and her stomach filled with butterflies (blue ones, probably, but that was an ironic musing for another day) and she focused on the stroking of her thumb as she leaned her head down against Fern's. She could've sat like this for hours, she was pretty sure, even in complete silence, and would've felt perfectly happy for the rest of the day. She reached for a snack with her free hand, taking a bite from a snap pea, munching in thought when she finally spoke of Nari.

"She's... nice." She hadn't talked to her much, but enough to have a good impression. "She helped me make some dice that I wanted once. And watched my back when I uh - ... did some shit I wasn't supposed to." Like vandalizing an entire wall. Yeah, she was definitely a Nari fan. "I hope you're right. It'd suck if she was."

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[OPEN] May catch-all for some side characters

ii (Fern)

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Romola i

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Romola ii

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[runs around hitting everything 8D]

[knocks things over :V]

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fern - i.

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