Oh, you're acting your thin disguise

[arlathvhen]

WHO: Beleth and YOU.
WHAT: Beleth is back from the Fallow Mire, trying to deal with some things, trying to ignore other things.
WHEN: Before people go off on their war table missions
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Nothing so far, will edit if necessary.

Tavern

Beleth has made the decision that she needs to have copious amounts of alcohol before attempting to take on the confrontation that she has planned. Liquid courage, right? So, she takes a seat in the tavern, keeping her eyes glued to the bar, and works her way through a pint. It occurs to her, as she orders another one, that she has been doing an incredible amount of drinking lately. Far more than she had before she'd made her way to Skyhold with her clan.

Well, they were her clan, for now. Would they still call her clanmate, when those who would leave the clan finally admitted it? Would she call them clanmate? She knew it was a risk--one of the reasons she had come to Skyhold, after all, was hoping that she'd be able to persuade them otherwise. But she saw some of them, intermingling with the humans, so quick to adapt to the humans and their culture that they should just remove their vallaslin and nock their ears already.

Shit. She'd been trying to avoid thinking about what she was drinking for. And now she just wanted to drink more. She starts on the second pint with relish.

Stables

"I think you're my favorite living creature in this place."

The wild hart took this declaration in stride, chewing on the grass in its trough. Beleth followed up her statement with a laugh, shifting in her position on the side of his stall. The hart doesn't seem worried, even as Beleth reaches up and pets his neck.

"Do you have a name? I'm going to name you. How do you feel about Da'Assan? Little Arrow. For someone quick, and fleet of foot."

The hart snorts in reply, chewing contently.

"I'm taking that as agreement."

Library

Anyone who had been in the kitchen in the last few days might have heard grumbling from the cook about loaves of bread going mysteriously missing, with no one around to blame it on. A possible bread-obsessed ghost haunting Skyhold? Spooky.

Meanwhile, in the library, Beleth is enjoying a warm loaf of bread, and appreciating the fruits of having set up a little camp right above the rear entrance of the kitchen. Curled up in a chair in little alcove, she chews on the bread, while flipping through a book by some guy named Genitivi, documenting various parts of the world she'd never even heard of.

If she was going to learn how to sweet talk people, she had to expand her knowledge of the world in general. Especially if she met anyone from these particular places. Zevran would be pretty pleased, she thinks.

One thing she'd already discovered--There had been an Inquisition before this one. And quite frankly...she found what Genitivi had to say about them pretty sketchy. It made her worry--the Inquisition was supposed to be saving the world from Corypheus. Not leading another exalted march. Just what were the Inquisiton's intentions, after Corypheus?

Comments

Tavern

[easternseaqueen]

"I'd be careful downing that too fast, kitten," drawled a voice nearby. The Rivaini woman was watching her with something like amusement.

"It'll get you drunk just as well, with slightly less chance of you introducing your face to the floor."

Library

[mythalenaste]

Pel loudly closes her own book and tosses it aside before rubbing a temple.

"Dirthamen save me," she mutters.

Stables

[fortheloveoffalondin]

"I think that means he's amused with you. Or tired. I'd suggest Souveri."

Salem peeks around the entrance of the stables at Beleth and her friend, offering a small smile. He's looking much better by now, the discoloration of his ears and toes almost gone. He has the borrowed scarf over his shoulders, as well as the one that Pel had given him, both wrapped loosely and tucked around one-another. He steps just inside and leans against the wall with his hands behind his back, ankles crossing as he surveys the other mounts. They don't seem to be paying him any attention.

For Krem

[arlathvhen]

She'd promised Sam that she'd actually talk to Krem. Which she did--Just. Not very in depth. They didn't talk talk, and quite frankly, Krem deserves at least an apology for the shitty way that Beleth had reacted. It was a selfish reaction--out of sight, out of mind, the less she saw of Krem, the less she'd remember how it felt when she was there in the stables, and Krem and Sam were playing tonsil hockey right next to her.

It hurt to stay away from Krem, but that memory hurt more.

But Sam had a point, and she was being selfish, and rude, cutting Krem off for daring to care for someone who wasn't her. What would her mother say?

So, Beleth appeared at the tavern, moving to the chair that might as well have his name engraved on it, for all that he sat there. She wasn't quite up to making eye contact, staring off at one of the other tables as she approached. "Hey--Um. Hello. Would it be okay--And, ah, feel free to say no, if you're busy, or if you just don't want to--but would you like to talk...? Alone, preferably." Her eyes darted up, now, towards the top floor of the tavern. That would probably work for a conversation, the only one who was up there was--

Well, she couldn't remember his face, but if whoever was up there was there, she could ask him to leave.