faderift | OPEN | i'll be working

WHO: Rey, Kylo, Nari, Aro, Myr, whoever wants to get drafted into chopping stumps in the rain for a pittance come on it's fun
WHAT: Chopping stumps in the rain for a pittance! Possibly inadvisable trebuchet action! Nari open while she's being a bummer!
WHEN: Kingsway
WHERE: Wounded Coast, Sundermount, and Kirkwall
NOTES: CW: discussion of character death in III

I. Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies (Myr: first half of Kingsway, Sundermount)

Nari's been waiting to test this ever since she'd slammed open the door to the room she'd shared with Myr. Finally it's not blistering and oppressive enough that it's not a horrifying idea to take the materials for the small scale trebuchet she'd drawn up plans for to Sundermount—where theoretically nobody would be bothered by the repeated launch of magically enhanced exploding rocks—to build it. Plus, there are a lot of rocks to magically enhance to explode.

Myr is duly informed of her readiness, and since they're both early risers, out they go into the wild brown yonder early one morning. Once there, Nari claps her hands together and asks with some enthusiasm: “What should we try first?”

II. I'm Only Happy When It's Complicated (Rey, Kylo, Aro, and The Hapless Voluntold: latter half of Kingsway, Wounded Coast)

[one thread~!]

With the long periods of heat lessening, Nari decides it's finally safe to take her crew out for the heavy work of clearing. The space near the Wounded Coast the Seneschal had allotted them for the final home of the course they had built certainly had space enough. It was also, blessedly, flat enough.

It also had stumps enough. Stumps enough of trees that had been old and established enough that once they arrive with the cart of provisions, thick ropes, shovels, picks, pitchforks, and axes, the elf looks out on the studded field with a dryly amused look. Luckily they don't need to clear all of the area, but there's more than enough for a solid couple of weeks of work.

She eyes the sky with much the same look as she'd given the field. It responds with a quiet disaffected rumbling promise of rain.

“Well,” she says to those assembled, “we'd better get done what we can while we can. If you've never done this before, we'll be digging around them until the roots are exposed, chopping through the main roots and whatever else we can get, getting ropes around them, and getting the horses to do the rest.” She hefts a shovel over her shoulder. “Questions?”

III. Time Has a Funny Kind of Violence (end of Kingsway, Kirkwall)

One morning Nahariel wakes up and it's here: the sharp cool smell of the autumn wind and the promise of the winter to come. With it comes the body's memory of the beginning of the decline from which Sina would never recover, and with that comes sudden intermittent hunched shoulders. Staring out into even blue sunny skies with a dull and tired bleakness mismatched to them. A wet shine in her eyes for small reasons, or seemingly no reason at all. The stop of work for a long moment before she shakes her head and starts again. A false ring to her buoyant good nature, as if it's being forced.

It isn't always, but it's sometimes. Especially when the wind blows.

She can be found more often in the Memorial Garden. Oftener still in the fringes of the statue's grove where her clansister's trees still stand both new and ancient to watch the leaves of those trees that are not evergreen begin to turn for the second time; the first that Sina won't see.

She will still greet company with a small smile.

IV. Wildcard

Hi!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The silence stretches out and Myr wonders what, exactly, might've gone wrong in the web of his acquaintances that that little joke would be unwelcome. Or maybe she's abruptly reconsidering working with a mage with such sloppy spellwork--that's fair, he admits to himself, and it's kind of her to find a way to spare his feelings before saying so but it's also not the first ti--

Oh. Oh. There's only the slightest hitch in Myr's smile at the question. "Because you're his friend," he says, breezy and innocent. "And he doesn't have so many of them, and I'd feel awful to put one out of commission."

Which is all true, but not all of the truth.

Oh. Dear. His smile twitched. Does Myr know? Myr knows. Myr knows and he is blind. Why is this surprising? It's not like she's been careful, recently. Sylaise, they'd moved in together.

She starts to take the offered out with immediate relief, but reconsiders halfway through the first syllable which means she just sort of makes a croak noise, then whuffs a laugh through her nose, the beads in her hair clicking as she runs her hand back through it. Shy as she is, she's not ashamed of it. Of Cade. Of course, feeling that way is one thing, actually opening her mouth goes a little more like

"I'm... well we're... not... friends." Then, quickly, "No, we are friends, but not just friends." Pause. "I think." Pause. "No, I mean, I know, but... it's complicated?"

You kept an ear out, in the Circle; you knew what your friends were doing (and who) so you didn't give them away in all innocence by mentioning where they'd been together. Myr knows, but also knows well enough not to tell, just as Nari had done him the same service before he and Simon elected to move in together themselves.

His smile grows a little wider--a little warmer and more knowing--as she fumbles through her confession; he knows his own hadn't been much better, when he'd come to her all those months ago to explain why he might need their room to himself some nights. And it's heartening to hear put to voice something he'd long hoped for, his dear friends finding mutual comfort in each other.

"Complicated like splitting your nights between both towers in the Gallows before you decided to move into one room?" he suggests through that smile. "Or complicated in you've not done anything like this before in your life and you don't know where it's bound or what might happen except you want to meet it together?"

Because, well. He's only a few months further along that path.

Complicated like a Dalish elf and a human Templar, both of them fumbling and new. But that's closer to one than the other, so: "The latter. It was sort of... sudden." And also not. It had been... Creators. Had it been a year since she'd asked him to help her with the statue? Theirs hadn't been a smooth progression. It felt out of order sometimes, all fits and starts and unplanned unexpected intimacies before their time. Too close, too far, feelings attached to places she didn't understand and words forced out through throats like tightly clenched fists.

"I just... I came home from the temple of Falon'Din remembering that the future isn't promised to any of us, and I didn't want to go out—didn't want either of us to go out—into the field again without saying... something. Doing... something."

Myr's smile doesn't fade but is transmuted to something less antic by her words, by the emotion behind them-- The too-recognizable emotion behind them.

I almost lost you, he told Simon, the soonest instant he could once they were away from that Vint prison. Even if he'd made the sentiment explicit long before in how he'd embraced his templar, before the Knight-Commander and Benedict and every onlooking guard, without any care for what they might think or say because--

Death, or its near brush, had a marvelous way of simplifying the most complex and snarled things. Whatever else the world might think of them, Myr could no longer bear it thinking they meant only friendship to each other.

That kind of complicated. "Maker," he breathes, half-punctuation and half-prayer. "I hear that. Better to see what you can make of the two of you together than--wait until the opportunity's stolen forever." Casimir.

Not again. Not ever.

There's a whuffed out breath that speaks of agreement every bit as much as words might. "I don't know what'll come of it. Might be that nobody's happy but us," and are they? Happy? She's not sure about that. Are you happy when a dislocated shoulder pops into place? It's less happy and more... right. Which is fine. Nari has never been the giddy type, and she and Cade have spent enough time sitting in right-feeling silence together when they seek each other out that she sees no reason to think it's different for him.

She realizes she's been silent for a while and clears her throat.

"You know how that goes, though."

"I do." Soft and rueful. "Though no one's been too loud about it yet."

And Maker grant the elements of the Inquisition who might get loud continue to look the other way--for his sake, and Simon's, and Cade and Nari's sakes as well.

But that's a thread best not pursued aloud, and so Myr lets it go with a little roll of his shoulders. "But speaking of--" Or not, as the case may be, but whatever, it's his verbal transition to make. "D'you want to go back up there and see if I can do better on the next rock?"

OPEN | i'll be working

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject