this town is only going to get worse.

[rowancrowned]

WHO: Thranduil and Solas / Adalia / Finch / Loki
WHAT: Catch-all log for July.
WHEN: Current, slight backdating to pre-negotiations.
WHERE: Various locations among Kirkwall, Skyhold.
NOTES: None applicable.

Comments

[justnice]

He doesn’t startle (the pad of footsteps; Thranduil isn’t a small man), but caution slips past his eyes all the same, worn as the way he shifts from the edge of the stall to earth below.

A fluid motion, familiar — at sudden odds with the awkwardness of standing, of stubby limbs still too grown too long. A child, perhaps. Or that strange space between.

"Provost," He doesn’t clean those offices, but he listens enough. A glance catches up — and up — and down again as abruptly, the elk’s antlers suddenly remembered beside its bulk. Finch presses against the edge of the stall, and slips the pipes back into his pockets. "You need, uh,"

Uh.

"A horse?"

Possibly in more than the immediate sense.

[rowancrowned]

"I am not leaving until the morning," he says. "And I will not need a horse."

The elk, he thinks, would be terribly offended by that. Nearly as offended as it is by the commotion. Sundermount is likely much less loud than Kirkwall, if only because Morrigan and her presumable mayorhood as giantest spider has made it so.

"I came to the stables to check on him." Him, the giant elk, the one rolling his eyes to look at Finch, then Thranduil, then exhaling through his nose.

"And you are?"

Despite the rumors and his own best efforts, he does not know all the elves in the Inquisition. Just most of them.