OPEN, sort of

[slipshot]

WHO: Gavin, a few specific people, but also OPEN
WHAT: Gavin returns from his adventure in the Mire, and has a few things he has to follow up on.
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Gavin should come with his own warning but otherwise, CW for discussion of suicidal thoughts/tendencies (it's all in point number 2, so you can skip that if you want)

On the long march back to Skyhold, Gavin had decided on at least something of a plan of action. Well. Plan of action was probably giving him too much credit. He had a plan. And plan was also probably somewhat more organized than what he actually had: which was a vague idea of people and conversations he should probably have.

A vague idea of things he should probably do.

Because there were a few truths, that were becoming apparent to him, and they were these:

1. He was not likely to survive this war. This wasn't a huge surprise (he never did have a good sense of self preservation), but it was still something he had to acknowledge. This wasn't the kind of thing he could fuck up and then make up for later by smiling sheepishly with presents. Or bribes, as Zevran so eloquently put it. So. If he fucked up, he was dead. Worse - if he fucked up, he likely also made sure other people were dead. Which brought him to point number two.

2. He wanted to survive this war. This was a surprise, as half of his plan in coming to the Inquisition had involved gallant death, and meant that number 1 was proving to be a bigger problem than it would have been otherwise. Part of it was that he had found people here that he wanted to make sure survived it themselves. But another part, perhaps, came from having a back up plan. Maybe it was strange, to find some sort of odd peace by planning in detail one's eventual death if it was necessary. And as long as Zevran was alive, he had that back up plan. So surviving in the meantime was okay - because if it ever wasn't okay, he had a way out.

3. If he was going to survive the war and have anything left to survive it for, he had to stop running. Somehow. This had already been drummed into him by a few people, but it had never really taken. It wasn't until - ironically - he'd been talking to Alistair about throwing his life away by joining the Wardens that he'd actually started to think any deeper about what he was going to do after the Inquisition. Even what he was doing in the Inquisition. Harding would kill him if he ran away again, and that probably wasn't entirely an exaggeration. If 1 was destined to happen, then at the very least, it should be by Corypheus's hand and not his own.

All this meant that he had to be better, and he had to be better now. Not an indeterminate time later, when the stars aligned, but now. While he had time. While they all had time. While it would still mean something, and make a difference.

Maxwell and Pel. That was where to start, but they weren't the only ones. Merrick. Harding. Maria. So many of his friends.... There were a lot of apologies and the couldn't come with presents. Bribes. They couldn't even really be apologies, because he knew how hollow those sounded, from him, these days. He needed to make an actual effort.

So he sought out each one, wherever they were.


[HOW THIS WILL WORK: Basically if you want to have a chat with Gavin and already know him, tag in wherever you are and he will come find you. If you have not met Gavin but want to, hit me up on plurk or PM and I'll start up a different thread starter for you. Basically I just wanted a catch all for a bunch of different threads for him and then the description got out of hand.]

Comments

Merrick's Smoking Spot

[dalishious]

[ His fever has cleared up, or else he'd be even less tolerant of Gavin than usual. ]

[slipshot]

[He had a fairly good idea of where to find Merrick - and so it was no surprise when he did, the scent of smoke heralding Merrick's appearance before Gavin even turned the corner. When he did, he waved first - a hesitant raise of his hand - before walking over and sitting down next to him.

Usually, this is when he would hand over a present. He had no present today.]

Hey, Merrick.

[dalishious]

[ Gavin had known better not to show his face around Merrick for a while after they'd last interacted, but it seems that short bout of mild intelligence has ended. Merrick slowly draws his pipe from his lips and fixes Gavin with a look of utmost loathing. ]

What do you want.

[slipshot]

[Well that wasn't disconcerting at all. He thought about laughing nervously, turning around, and going straight out the way he came, but in the end he drew in a breath and then sat across from Merrick, legs crossed.]

I - I wanted to ask for your help.

[dalishious]

[ The expression doesn't change. He doesn't even blink. ]

You cannot be fucking serious.

Little Library

[dreadinquisitor]

Back from Ferelden, with the Lord Kildarn ruckus settled as happily as they could, and with no immediate return missions planned for him, Maxwell found himself with some free time on his hands. And he knew exactly what to do with it.

The curl of copper-colored hair in his pocket, he settled himself in the library in the basement of Skyhold with whatever texts he could find on the properties of the various stones and metals of Thedas - with particular interest in those native to the Fallow Mire. It would have been faster to simply go and ask the Undercroft, or maybe even to talk to Sam, but Maxwell enjoyed the whole process. That moment of a-ha! when he discovered the perfect element.

Relaxing into a chair, the propped his feet up on the table and leaned back against the stacks, a book open on his thighs, the candlelight playing across the pages.

[slipshot]

Maxwell proved to be a little harder to find. He'd checked where the man usually slept, and the gardens, and the tower - so he was frowning by the time he checked the library in the basement. He let out a breath of relief when he finally did find him, a smile coming to his lips as he walked over.

"Well you look deep in study," He said, the smile widening as he walked up behind him. "I almost think I should avoid disturbing you."

[dreadinquisitor]

He didn't immediately move at the sound of footsteps - fellow members of the Inquisition coming and going at all hours - but he did at the familiar voice. Head coming up, his legs swung down from the table so he could turn and smile.

"Well, well, look who's home at last. I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to come drag you away from the mud."

[slipshot]

"I do love to wallow in it," He quipped back with a grin as he sat down heavily in the chair around the corner from him.

"And I brought you some of the supplies you ask for," he added as he swung his bag off his shoulder, and then pushed it across the table.

Inside were various bits and pieces of different metals he'd managed to scrape up while he was down in the mire.

[dreadinquisitor]

"Gavin, you didn't have to--" They'd talked about it, yes, but Maxwell hadn't really expected him to just turn around and do it. And certainly not this much of it.

He opened the bag and looked down into the shining pieces, shimmering in the low light. A piece of blue vitrol was on top and he pulled it out, thumb stroking over the flecks of metal buried in the stone.

"This is perfect." He looked back at Gavin, smile softer. "Thank you."

[mythalenaste]

Pel is asleep in the hayloft, but wakes the moment Gavin comes to the top of the stairs. She sits upright suddenly with a gasp, eyes barely managing to open and process the new potential threat. No. It's Gavin. Gavin?

Why is Gavin here?

She squints at him, wary. Why did he come here?

[slipshot]

He stops at the top of the stairs, hand resting lightly on the wooden pillar. He hadn't wanted to startle her, but had managed to anyway, and looked sheepish about it.

"Hey, Pel." His voice was soft. "I- Did I wake you?"

[mythalenaste]

Did he come to...what? He's approaching her voluntarily. What is this? She blinks sleepily.

"Doesn't matter," she mumbles. "Is something wrong?"

Did someone get hurt?

[slipshot]

"Ah - No. No, nothing's wrong, I just--"

The urge to say 'lost something in here', grab a random piece of straw and run out again was intense. But he drew in a breath, held it, and then released it with a sigh. "... I told you we could- finish that talk," He said finally, albeit a bit lamely. "Which - I know it's been a while, but I just finally got back from my mission in the Mire--"

[mythalenaste]

That was actually the last thing she expected. She stares blankly at him for a moment, lips parted slightly, then suddenly scrambles to sit up straight, blanket pooling on her lap.

"Of course. Yes--sit down." She rubs one eye, trying to will herself to be alert.

[hugeinorlais]

Varric was, by all counts, not exactly cheerful following his return from the Fallow Mire, but he was drier and that counted for a lot. The hearth by his table burned a little more intensely than usual and, despite his abrupt shift in attire (He really hated the grey, sleeve-less tunic he had on and the striped pants made him look like a tiny, subtle version of Iron Bull, but those other clothes had to be burned. There was nothing for it.), Varric was well within the bounds of 'toasty' and 'warm'. It was hard to be cranky when you were both toasty and warm.

He'd had an idea on the long march back from the Mire, one of the kind that felt like potential brilliance and/or an inevitable catastrophe, but it wasn't quite fully formed yet. So, as he spent the day turning it over in his head, finally thawing out (insofar as one could in Skyhold), he decided to disassemble, clean, and tune Bianca.

It took a while, doing this much precision work, and his table was covered in a carefully arranged array of tiny to medium sized parts, curious mechanical tools, and better than a dozen implements to wipe, polish, or otherwise scrub all the residual swamp out of his beloved portable siege weapon. He could do this all in his sleep, of course, and that gave him plenty of time to think and, to a lesser extent, people watch.

Skyhold was always full of strange people and eavesdropping was an art that Varric excelled at, but the person who kept catching Varric's attention was Gavin. It wasn't odd to see the elf running through the Great Hall, but he usually didn't have quite so determined or grim an expression plastered on his face. Whether he was coming or going, four or five times now, he looked like he had steeled himself to face down a rabid dragon.

By the time Varric had moved to oiling and polishing Bianca's wooden stock, he decided to interrupt Gavin's little crusade and try to cheer the kid up. It was the least he could do, given that they were friends, and he was a little curious about what had managed to put a serious expression on the elf's face. So, casually as anything, he snagged Gavin before he could march off to whatever other task he had to attend.

"Hey Lucky," Varric called as Gavin entered the hall on the garden side. "Come here, I got a question or two for you."

[slipshot]

Who knew how many times he had passed Varric - mostly because he had lost count. He had of course noted him, but Varric was, thankfully, one of his only friends that he was pretty sure he didn't owe apologies to. On this particular pass, though, the sober expression was a little different, almost cautiously optimistic, as he had just come from seeing Maxwell, which had gone much better than he had originally anticipated. He thought. Sort of.

But then of course he'd started thinking about it more in depth, and had started running likely scenarios over in his head, and had come up with about a hundred thousand ways that everything could go horribly wrong.

So, cautiously optimistic at best.

He stopped at the voice, his ears pricking as he heard the nick name, before walking over to Varric. He was already trying to push everything away in order to offer up a grin, but in truth it wavered more than it should have, and didn't reach his eyes.

"Sure, what's on your mind?" He asked, immediately being drawn to the wealth of random bits of crossbow and picking one up to look at it somewhat distractedly.

[hugeinorlais]

If Gavin had been anybody else (save perhaps Hawke), Varric would have snapped the towel in his hand across the elf's fingers as he reached for a piece of Bianca. As it was, Gavin was so distracted and serious that he barely managed a smile as he shuffled over. That, more than anything, was enough of a surprise that he let Gavin get away with twiddling one of Bianca's disassembled gear assemblies.

"Huh," Varric said, his brows arched as he looked the elf over with a critical eye. "I should ask you the same question."

He clucked his tongue idly and turned his gaze and attention back to the stock in his hands. Getting the bits of dirt out of the grain and the detailing on the wood was a long, tedious process, but it was cathartic. Varric didn't so much need catharsis, not right at the moment, but Gavin on the other hand....

"Then again, you look like a guy who needs a lot less of whatever is on his mind. Take a seat," Varric told him idly and, with one hand, folded up the threadbare towel he was using to polish the wood. He thrust both the piece of his crossbow and the cloth at Gavin and, before the elf could protest, said: "Here, if you're going to get handsy with Bianca, you might as well start at the beginning."

Unfortunately, while he was going for annoyed, he totally missed the mark. To his great chagrin, Varric sounded a bit worried, and tried to cover that note of concern by clearing his throat. He could pretend he was worried about Bianca. Probably.

"Small circles, oil is the open jar. Somebody got you running mail again, or are you just really enthusiastic about pacing?"

[slipshot]

Gavin blinked as the sacred items were thrust into his hands, and then flushed with embarrassment, his ears turning red as he looked down at them. He should have known better than to touch Bianca - he hadn't even been thinking about it. He set the piece he had been looking at down, and then carefully followed Varric's instructions - dipping the cloth just a little bit into the oil and then rubbing small circles on the wood - happy to have something to look at that wasn't Varric.

"Ah - no. Just... Trying to find a few people." There's a pause there as he turns the piece of crossbow over to start working the other side. "I'm not particularly good at conversations that actually mean anything, usually, so... Why not get them all over at once?"

[hugeinorlais]

Varric whistled lowly as he retrieved a small multi-tool and started carefully reassembling one of Bianca's four arms. He didn't have to keep a particularly close eye on his work, but after hazarding a short glance at Gavin, he decided that staring at the elf was probably not going to yield a more comfortable conversation.

"Well that sounds exhausting," Varric declared as he worked. A series of tiny, almost musical mechanical noises accompanied his adjusting the springs. "I'd offer to buy you a drink but, after you almost de-pantsed that last guy, I'm thinking we should avoid the stronger stuff."

Varric cocked a brow and, as he wound a gear into place with a quiet click, shot the elf a sly look.

"So, speaking of stripping clothes off people...really, that guy?"

[easternseaqueen]

It was pure chance that brought Isabela across Gavin's path, but considering the company he kept, it would only have been a matter of time. Several of her friends were also his, and every single one of them had at least one colorful tale about their time in the company of the pirate queen. Some more than others.

But yet, this was her first time running into him and she raised an eyebrow at his demeanor.

"Mmm. You look like a man in dire need of a distraction," she remarked.

[slipshot]

It was hard not to be able to guess who this was. Isabela - well, she stood out. A little.

A lot.

And he knew that she was one of Zevran's friends, which already put her in the 'good to know' book, despite the fact that basically everyone was in that book already anyway. She just got a little extra star next to her name. (There was no actual book, of course, as if there was, it would all be misspelled and then thrown in the fire anyway.)

All this meant was that though his expression was somewhat somber, he managed to look sheepish when she spoke, and stopped in his running around to rub his head.

"That obvious?" He asked, offering her a slightly lopsided smile. "Though I think basically everyone in this castle can use a distraction, lately. Hopefully just - less deadly ones than the ones that keep coming up. You're Isabela, aren't you?"

[easternseaqueen]

She laughed.
"That obvious, hmm? And I've seen that look enough times, Kitten. I know it well."

She turned a mischievous grin on him
"Fortunately, I am very good at offering distractions. Some more deadly than others."

[slipshot]

"You come with a reputation," He quipped, offering a lopsided smile that he did, actually, feel, even if it wasn't as bright as it might have been otherwise.

"And 'deadly distraction' sums that reputation up pretty well, to be honest." He was teasing, but his heart wasn't really in it. "As for the rest - I can say that the reputation doesn't even begin to live up to the reality. As for distractions - I'm thinking alcohol. Care to join me?"

[easternseaqueen]

"So I've been told. Comes with being a pirate and all. Some rumors are more accurate than others. Depends on who's telling them."

She laughed at his selection.
"Sounds perfect. Are you thinking the tavern, or some place a little... cozier?"