faderift | ( open ) and it's harder than you think

WHO: Saoirse Ceallach + open
WHAT: a catch-all for Justinian
WHEN: throughout the month
WHERE: Kirkwall, various
NOTES: none to mention, will update as needed

a — gallows' gardens

Saoirse has never thought herself as much of a green thumb. In Starkhaven there was no need to care for the wildflowers that grew in the valley that nestled the city nor what few managed to find root in the muddy alienage roads. They were there with or without help, and as it turned out, there was little need for botany lessons here in Kirkwall when these walls still housed a Circle. Yet as the weather has grown warmer, she has struck out, spreading her own roots as it were and attempting to learn some skills that might further helps those in the alienage. It always allows her, a mage mostly skilled in magic that attacked the life force of living things, to attempt new spells she hopes might be beneficial— not simply destructive.

Wearing a distinctive straw hat decorated in various, colorful wildflowers, Saoirse sits with a scrunched nose and concentrated expression. In her lap is a small potted but notably withered flower, hands cupped gently around it and a familiar buzz of magic in the air as she calls upon what little Creation magic she houses inside her. Mending wounds is much different than healing the earth and breathing life into withered leaves, yet she presses on with furrowed brows.

b — harrowing chamber

Although late the more traditional cleaning done in the spring, Saoirse has taken the lateness in stride and advantage of the warmer weather that summer brought. Perhaps the only true oddity is the location of her venture. The former Harrowing chamber is as she remembers it from her last visit in the later half of last year, a dusty and forgotten space. A part of her thinks that, perhaps, it is for the best that this place remain forgotten like there is a piece of her that might laugh if this place were to ever fall into the ocean.

Yet in her own attempt at healing from the venture in the Anderfels (not only physically but mentally and emotionally) that she takes another route. That is why, whomever might find themselves wandering near the forgotten chamber, might find the small elf in the midst of cleaning the room. Tearing down tattered pieces of cloth that were used to cover the windows, moving aside random assortments of junks or balanced atop a ladder and busily washing the dirtied windows.

c — alienage

It is a somber day in Kirkwall's alienage. Despite the clear day, splashes of black cloth can be seen either worn or on display on the small homes. One of the oldest residents, a woman who had survived long enough to see her great-grandchildren, has passed and thus the people mourn in their own way. Although they are all elves, traditions differ between alienages and Saoirse can only offer support as she can but mostly stands back as they prepare the body for burial. She keeps close to the Vhenadahl and gazes over the offerings on that have been placed throughout the day and the small candles burning in the dusk light around the tree roots.

In her hands is her own offering: a wind chime made of colored glass pulled from the nearby harbor. She remains at a distance for now, clutching the wind chime with eyes closed as she speaks out a soft prayer.

d — chantry relations' office

Although strange to be working in her with Herian's presence there was still work to be done despite her friend's deserved promotion. Currently Saoirse is working through the stack of letters that have come in either answering perviously sent letters, requesting assistance or letting them know of their thoughts toward the Inquisition. Most of lukewarm at best, some warmer but there a few that are quite chilly in making their thoughts or cases known about Inquisition presence in their midst. It is tiring in a way, after her last mission she had hoped more might be welcoming of aid to tend to the Chantry sites that might have fallen into disrepair since this fighting had begun.

"Perhaps there is a better way to go about this," she says in a half-sigh as the letter is laid to rest atop her small side table.

e — wildcard

For anything not mentioned above! Feel free to hit me up through plurk at kaldwin or through PM if you'd like to set up something specific.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I do not look fine, I'm a mess! You look fine." Comes her voice from somewhere in the depths of her closet.

The question at least mellows her brief flash of panic down and she peeks her head out, already adjusting the new top that she is wearing with a thoughtful hum.

"Well... I rather like dancing."

"Well, I don't mean to brag but..." He trails off teasingly, flashing a grin. Eh, he'll admit it, he can clean up nice when he puts his mind to it.

He's still very much looking away out of decency and to give her privacy. Sure, he's felt some of what's under her clothes in the past, but he hasn't seen much of it, and he's not about to creep on her now.

"That you do. We can totally go dancing. I'm sure there's a minstrel singing at a tavern somewhere around here."

"You are more than welcomed to brag," she muses. "Else I will brag for you."

Is she kidding? Who knows. Either way, she vanishes back into the depths of her closet with another thoughtful hum. If there was any concern about him seeing her then she doesn't show it when she pops her head out again now dresses in a more formal number and hair pulled down from its messy braid.

"Truly? I know a wonderful place, we'll have to see if anyone is playing there tonight while we are out."

"Hmmm. Maybe I should let you do it. You're way better at praising me anyway." Even if he's sure half of it isn't deserved. But he, too, phrases it as joking, lest he comes across as so vain as to expect people to brag about him. On his behalf, no less.

Women are amazing, he decides as she emerges, beautiful as ever and having gotten gussied up in like, a quarter of the time it took him.

"You bet. I'm not like, the best dancer ever but I don't have two left feet. Unlike Noctis." The human, he means. Pretty sure the cat doesn't dance. He holds out his arm to her (lookit him being all gallant, or so he likes to think). "Shall we?"

She can only smile in response to his words. Quickly, Saoirse lifts her hands to her hair and quickly fixes it in an up-do to keep the long hair off her back and shoulders-- taking the hairpin from her dresser to hold it all in place. She cannot help but quietly fret, not really having anything proper for a night out with a lover but rather nice "dress" robes from her time in the Circles.

"I could not imagine anything better," she says with another smile, taking his arm. "And I am not the best dancer either but as long as I am with you then I know I shall have a good time. We can be only decent dancers together."

This is... really nice, he decides as he leads them from her room and down the hall. To just be able to do this, going out together and having a great time together. It's been crazy lately, and he's looking forward to this, to being with her and forgetting about other things for awhile. The Inquisition is (mostly) good and it provides him a means to live and contribute, but it doesn't allow for much chance to be young people in the prime of their life. So they need to seize these moments whenever they can.

"Sounds like a plan then. And maybe grab a few drinks. I find it helps with the dancing, at least up until a certain point. Then it stops being dancing and just turns into drunken flopping around." Spoken like someone who has experience with it...

She pulls in close, pressing against his arm as they walk and she listens happily as he speaks with a warm smile on her features. It was really nice. Everything had been so... rough, so to say, since that day she kissed him in the snow. In a few short months there will be snow on the ground again and it feels like they have had to fight the world to get this little bit.

Well-- perhaps not the world but a demon, at least.

"Liquid courage then? It is for some perhaps," she muses. "But I have seen many that have fallen into dancing trouble with a few drinks under their belt."

"Guess it all comes down to how well you hold your booze." Which varies from person to person and he's found that some people are astoundingly unaware of how well they handle alcohol. Younger people, sure, he gets it. There's a learning curve. But the number of middle-aged men who proclaim they can hold their liquor better than anyone, only to wind up passed out in a corner five drinks later astonishes him. And it's not just a Thedas thing. Eos had its share of such people, too. Maybe it's a universal trait of peoples everywhere. "What about you? Outside of your birthday, I've never really seen you drink much. How do you hold up?"

"I suppose well enough," she says with a hum and leaning into his arm. "Drinking was frowned upon in the Circles, illegal contraband as it were. Doubly so when the Gallows was still my home."

Another small reason to be made Tranquil, she's sure. "Afterwards, although I spent many a nights in taverns and pubs, I usually kept myself sober to perform. I know my limit, thankfully. What of you? Did you and your friends enjoy them while on the road?"

Right. They wouldn't allow such a thing in the Circles. Too dangerous, at least as far as the templars were concerned. Or they just wanted to ruin everyone's fun.

"Eh, we didn't drink too much on the road. Sometimes we'd have a few beers or something, but with so much traveling and walking, drinking too much wasn't worth the hangover in the morning." Especially later on, after Altissia.

It was definitely about ruining everyone's fun-- which was just Circle life in general to a certain extent. Her steps light as they continue to walk, lifting their held hands into the air so she can twirl with a silly giggle once they are outside with the warm breeze of the harbor.

"We'll take it easy then," she says with a warm smile. "I want to spend as much time with you as I possible can tonight."

( open ) and it's harder than you think

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject