the mountains are calling

[metaari]

WHO: Metaari and YOU!
WHAT: An arrival
WHEN: Mid-Haring
WHERE: In and around Skyhold
NOTES: hhhhh

It's been a hell of a few weeks, working his way from Redcliffe to the Frostbacks and slogging his way through snow to try to find this Inquisition. A blizzard lands him in a cave for two days before he's able to continue forward again, but when he can finally see the battlements in the distance it's as though his energy is renewed. It surges through him, and just shy of the outer camps he sets up his own to rest up before arrival. The last thing he wants is to show up looking like a tired beggar (who just happened to climb a mountain).

He's up early the next morning, the sun fresh in the sky, when he breaks down his camp to finally make his way to the hold proper. There are only a few glances thrown his direction as he picks his way through the soldiers, and he's glad to see that there at least one handful of Qunari. At least he knows now that he won't stick out quite so much.

When he's finally past the walls he lets out a low whistle, lifting his gaze up to take in the scene. The walls have seen better days, and what's before him looks more like organized chaos than anything, but it's still grander than any setup he's seen before. A grin settles on Metaari's face as he adjusts the bow around him before heading further in to take in the sights (and maybe see if a familiar face has come back yet). "Excuse me," he finally intones after some time wandering and meeting new people (whose names he's going to try very hard to remember), turning toward the nearest friendly face that doesn't seem too wrapped up in something. "Would you be able to direct me to someone I could speak with about work?"

(ooc; most likely locations to find him: anywhere with alcohol, archery range, the camps outside, and generally places that aren't cramped. or just be a bro and answer his question.)

Comments

[metaari]

Oh, man, look at this one. Metaari is momentarily taken aback, but a second's hesitation is all it takes for him to get over the size of the young qunari in front of him and he smiles, lifting his hands in front of him. "Don't let me interrupt your practice. Please, continue."

Metaari steps around him, standing next to him in line with another dummy. He eyes it for a moment before glancing back again. "I'm guessing you went to Harding."

[issala]

He's so jelly, Metaari. Even Korrin is taller, and she's a girl!

The newcomer's words about not interrupting makes the teen remember what he was doing, and he quickly fixes his stance and draws the arrow again, aiming. Keeping one eye on Metaari as the man moves to stand in the next row, he then focuses on the target. "Yeah. Didn't know what I could do, but I wanted to do something. I could kinda do daggers but most scouts use bows so now I'm training for that."

He lets the arrow fly, hitting the dummy's arm. Frowning, Kas draws another and tries to not feel embarrassed. He's an underweight and tiny qunari, he had to fight for his little pride after all. (In all honesty, he was doing good for just a month and a half of training.)

"Where are you from? You sound Riviani." Was this guy from home?

[metaari]

There's a small smile on Metaari's face as he pulls his sunbow from around his body, the wood delicate looking in his hand. An arrow is removed from his quiver and he glances sideways toward the younger boy before looking back down his lane again. "Try to keep your head centered. Tipping it forward or back will send your arrow off wrong."

He lifts his bow and knocks his arrow and takes a steady breath before drawing back the string. The moment it touches against his nose he releases, firing the arrow off to pierce the dummy where an eye would be.

"And yes. I was born in Rivain, at least, though I've spent more time traveling through most of Thedas than I have there. I assume you are as well, then?"

[issala]

Pardon him, he's staring at that bow like it's made of gold, and the teen's face is a mask of awe as Metaari shoots the dummy. Slowly closing his mouth to not catch flies, Kas pulls another arrow from his quiver, knocking it into his horn nubs and nearly falling over when the bottom of the bow hit his gangly knees.

Trying to not look like more of a mess, the little qunari runs a hand through his messy white hair and does his best to ignore the fact that he just looked more accident-prone than a whole herd of druffalo.

"Y-yeah, I'm from Rivain. Used to be in the kith Nehraa Anaan. D'you know it?" The kith didn't actually exist, but that was another issue altogether.

[metaari]

A small, slightly amused smile crosses his face at that and Metaari tilts his head, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "A bow of the right size may help some, as well." To say the very least. Actually, that was usually step one.

The question makes him shrug and he shakes his head, his hands lifted. He only vaguely even knows what the word means, and that's thanks to a few Tal-Vashoth who cycled through his company and tried to teach him qunlat. "Not at all. I didn't stick around Rivain for long, if that's where you were stayed."

[issala]

"Where did you get that? It's amazing!" Weapons were always a great way to get the teen's attention, and he was slowly drifting from shanks to bows being his favorite things. (Which might mostly have to do with his new scout status.)

Hearing Metaari saying he didn't know his kith, Kas looks a little disappointed, but shrugs. "Yeah, I was born there. Stayed most of my childhood in the kith, then I went to Ferelden."