(closed) the coldest story ever told

[byblow]

WHO: Zevran Arainai, Maxwell Trevean, Pel Ashara, Salem Ghilan, Alistair
WHAT: A Dalish mage Ron Swanson, a Dalish warrior who throws eggs, an Antivan assassin and his many knives, a Warden who's probably technically exiled, and one single actual human nobleman on whom we are hanging all of our hopes and dreams try to make a dude stop being a big meanie.
WHEN: Haring 5-?
WHERE: Northern Ferelden
NOTES: Plotting post!

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ON THE ROAD

[byblow]

REFUGEE SETTLEMENT

[byblow]

KILDARN'S HOUSE (DEBATE/NEGOTIATION)

[byblow]

KILDARN'S HOUSE (SHENANIGANS)

[byblow]

[ombranera]

Well this was familiar enough. Zevran fell into step behind Alistair as easily as he had ten years ago- a little older, a little wiser- and with far more filthy jokes at his disposal. Whether or not he'd run through a filthy limerick or twelve or simply play 'I Spy' for the entire trip remained to be seen.

[mythalenaste]

It's like being a Keeper's First again. Doing the things other people can't do, even when nobody wants to do them. That's how she finds herself trimming an old man's toenails and helping a heavily pregnant widow wash herself where she can't reach.

Eventually she gets roped into playing a game of ball with some kids. The darlings don't even seem to notice she's an elf. In fact, there are a number of elven children among them, and in their innocence none of them think this is strange. Pel looks happier playing ball with kids than she's been since leaving her clan.

If you don't run into her any of these times, she'll come to you. She'll have a bowl of groats with a hunk of roast venison on top and a spoon in her other hand.

"Here. One of the refugees wanted me to make sure everyone's eating and offered this."

[mythalenaste]

1

During downtime, Pel is reading. Also, writing. She brought a travelling desk with her, and for once, she's not working on history. She's working on politics.

She stops you as you pass.

"Can you listen to this proposal and tell me if it sounds right?"

2

When it's too dark to work, Pel is by one of the fires, wrapped up in a houndstooth shawl and smiling contentedly at the fire as banter happens around her.

Wildcard

[dreadinquisitor]

A harried looking mother had pressed an infant on Maxwell - "--just a moment," she said - and since he'd been circling nearby, swaying the babe gently in his arms as he hummed something low and soft. At the sound of Pel's voice he turned, eyebrows raising even as he continued to hum.

His stomach rumbled at the sight of the bowl, but he could only smile sheepishly, shifting the baby slightly in a 'hands full' gesture.

[mythalenaste]

"Oh. Here." She sets the bowl aside and reaches for the baby. "I've already eaten."

[dreadinquisitor]

"Thank you," he whispered with relief and a grin, gently passing the babe over to her. "His mother's here--"

He turned to look even as he was reaching for the bowl.

"Somewhere. She was off after another one."

[mythalenaste]

"That's all right, isn't it, sweet thing?" Pel seems to light up with the baby in her arms, gently bouncing it while supporting its bottom like she's done it a thousand times. "Mamae will be back any moment, won't she? What a lucky baby. What a lucky baby."

She tickles the baby's tummy. The baby's eyes widen till they almost bug out, a smile stretching over its small, drooling face. This only goads Pel on, so she repeats the action, punctuating it with a playful touch to a tiny nose.

[mythalenaste]

"I know you're not an entertainer."

It's not an accusation, just updating Zevran on her information. She plops down to sit beside him while they take a midday meal break.

[ombranera]

"Oh?" He quirks a brow, hands busy sharpening one of his multitude of daggers. "What am I, then?"

[mythalenaste]

"A former Antivan crow who helped save the world. It's what stories say. Which. Stories say a lot of things."

[ombranera]

"And a former Antivan Crow cannot be an entertainer as well?"

[ombranera]

A

A fine house with a real bed and decent meals. Even if there is some leering at his being an elf and an Antiva, Zevran is pleased to take the room offered and spoil himself with a proper mattress. Or hiding in the kitchen to listen to some gossip. Or checking the locks of the remainder of the doors of the rooms offered the members of the Inquisition- going so far as to offer to string up some manner of alarm for the occupants along the windows and doors and showing how to disable them if they so wish. These are to be his people for the time being, and showing them any less consideration would be unworthy of him.

Or at the very least would earn scowling from Alistair.

B

Where there are nobles and their houses- there are secrets or trinkets to be found. Considering how strongly Kildarn feels about these refugees and how disconcerted he seemed about the guests the Inquisition sent to handle the situation- Zevran was not at all adverse to poking around to find said trinkets and secrets. There is no reason for him to not, truly, as the man has not endeared himself to Zevran in the slightest. Then again there may be personal bias at work- who knows.

It starts innocently enough- him pacing the areas they are allowed, complimenting the art, the decor, the rugs- for a Fereldan noble he certainly seemed to have a taste for the finer things. Later when most would be asleep, or when most are out of the house he finds the doors that were locked and makes his attempts to pick them.

C

WILDCARD.

[mythalenaste]

"You planning to juggle those daggers?"

[ombranera]

"If it would please you." The whetstone vanishes and suddenly he has three more daggers waiting in between his fingers, held loosely for aforementioned juggling.

[mythalenaste]

She flinches slightly, smile still on, and raises a hand to stop him.

"Not so close to my eyes, thanks. I'm not saying you lied. I'm just saying I didn't know it was you and now I feel like a fool."

[ombranera]

"Please do not feel foolish for my mischief. I have too long made a habit of perhaps not trumpeting my achievements for the sake of keeping things simple, yes?" The daggers flick back into- well. Wherever it is he keeps them.

[mythalenaste]

"You and Alistair both. I thought he must be a different Warden Alistair for weeks before I knew any better."

[ombranera]

"Probably for the best- he does not much like being reminded of it either." Unless it earned him cheese.

[mythalenaste]

"Was it a hard time for h--you both?"

[ombranera]

"The world was ending and we had but a band of misfits and ancient contracts with which to save it. Hard, I think, would be something of an understatement." He ignores the slip for the moment.

[mythalenaste]

"I didn't expect it to be easy. But there must be reasons you don't want to remember it. I won't pry for them. I just...hope you're all right."