open: we built this circle on rock and roll

[exequy]

WHO: Open (mostly), targeted toward people who care about mage problems but anybody's welcome.
WHAT: Looting a Circle, fighting some scavengers, and arguing about the ethics of falsifying records of abuse.
WHEN: Cloudreach
WHERE: Markham
NOTES: This is a sliver of a couple bigger schemes, including a plan to publicize mage mistreatment (which will double as an anti-Gertruda Divine-influencing plot) and a plan to hide some Circle valuables from the Chantry, but your character doesn't have to be aware of those plans to participate in this! They can just be along to help fight bandits and carry heavy stuff. ETA: In some places this log says Ostwick, rather than Markham, because I'm dumb. Ignore them.

Calling an outbreak of enchantment-related deaths and mysterious incidents in Markham convenient would be horribly insensitive to the various burn victims and vanished druffalo involved, but, you know. It is. All of the arguments about whether or not to make formal request for permission to secure the Circle's contents, when it's already their stuff, and if Ostwick says no it might mean the Inquisition won't give them leave to go—those arguments were all for nothing. Markham's response is, essentially, Please do. Hooray!

Comments

[wythersake]

"Merry," Isaac's eyes drift from door to dog, before finally finding Inessa. He lingers from the mabari at a distance that might be properly called wary, though it doesn't match the apparent ease of his expression. "We ought to have prepared a song. I could use a hand, actually, if you might spare it."

Away from the First Enchanter's office. The woman's too much an unknown for Isaac to trust a first look at whatever might lie within.

"I never had a head for this sort of thing," He's already walking, glance thrown over his shoulder in the expectation of being followed. Doesn't know yet quite what he's looking for, other than a distraction, "Too, how do you say it,"

He knows how to say it. In Orlesian:

"Fiddly."

[circleprodigy]

Garahel looks over and wags his tail at Isaac. He may be a wall of muscle made to fight, but for now his eyes are friendly. Inessa, not wanting him to get too close unless Isaac is fine with it, steps away from the door first. The mabari is quick to follow, after lingering to sniff at the door. Whatever was inside didn't seem to interest him too much, probably because it lacked mabari treats.

"If it's about songs, I'm afraid we can't be of help unless you enjoy a mabari's howl." Inessa quirks a smile, the Grey Warden patting her kaddis-painted companion. It doesn't escape her notice that he's leading her away from the First Enchanter's office, but she doesn't seem to mind for the time being. As long as there's something to do, some way to contribute, she's content. The slight elven woman automatically quickens her steps, used to keeping pace with taller people. "I can certainly try to assist. My memories of the Circle aren't so faded that I can't still make good use of them, if need be."

[wythersake]

"Nothing so dreadful."

Isaac maintains a marked distance from the dog, brows tipping upwards into a smile (Fiddly -- reminded, abruptly, of Anders. Wardens. As though nation is ever the first thing he thinks of elves)

"Five years does fly,"

Since that Circle. It's a question, for what little it's spoken like one; if she was taken before the Rebellion, she isn't so old it can have been long. A sharp left at the end of the hall. A distraction: he'll know one when he sees it.

[circleprodigy]

If Inessa had known Isaac better, she would have probably made a quip about singing Andraste's Mabari to compensate. The song was sappy and obnoxious, but it held the entertainment value of annoying non-Fereldans/dog-people and that alone was worth the time spent. But she maintained her polite reserve, keeping Garahel close to her despite the war hound's curiosity.

In response to the comment (well, question), Inessa nods. "It does indeed. I remembered little else but the Circle, when that life ended and a new course was necessary. If someone had told me how those five years would pass, I would have thought them mad. The parts that were my own choosing, I do not regret." Mostly. Her gaze flits over to him, curious. "Do you miss any of it, or were you glad to shed the system, as were so many others?"

[wythersake]

The parts that were my own choosing,

It doesn't shift the pleasant distance of his expression. Even so, he can spy the handholds, imagines anyone might. The places another might grip and tear loose argument: The freedom to choose; the cost in doing so. Hasn't that always been the fumble?

Isaac didn't choose war, more than any mage might have once chosen recruitment. One was not plucked from stones for only the cost of asking.

"I fear the two not much exclusive —" He misses certainty, or what will pass for it. What will pass for it was too often a shadow. "— Or we'd all have an easier time of it."