faderift | Take my love, Take my land

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Take my love, Take my land

WHO: Malcolm Reynolds, Jayne the Mabari and You!
WHAT: Malcolm rides in with a Mabari and Mail for the Inquisition
WHEN: 20th of Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Anyone that wants a letter or a package that can be carried in a pair of saddlebags is welcome to claim some good or trinket or something from Malcolm, he's been wandering this way for awhile. Brackets or Prose are good.

So here's how it is.

A man, a horse, a bag of mail and a grumpy Mabari wandering right up the road to Skyhold. The dog's a dark brown, the horse is a warm brown, and the man's a muddied brown on account of all the foutu mud he's been riding through all the live long day on the way up to this mighty fine hold. Fort. Ruin.

Honestly it's more the last than either of the other two, the battlements a little worn and ragged and the gate itself kinda questionable. Were it not for the many wonderful things said about this establishment and it's Inquisition Mal'd be entertaining second thoughts. Arlight if he's honest he's already entertaining second, third, and fifth thoughts but he's got a powerful need to be here and here's where he's gotten paid to drop off a lotta letters and packages of various value and weight. He's not about to back out of a decent, legitimate job when he's been paid.

Well-

He sighs and urges the horse onward through the gates, clicking his tongue to bring the Mabari to heel. Or. Trying to. The dog's got a mind of it's own and trots about,sniffling and snuffling at anyone in the immediate area that may or may not have food. If they've got food? He starts pawing. Or gnawing. Much to the exasperation of the muddied man on the bay. "For the last time you gourmand petit sac de merde, leave 'em alone."

If snapping at the dog doesn't work he leans out with his heel and nudges the Mabari with his boot- or he hefts the butt of his spear and knocks him upside the head. It works well enough.

If spared the hound and horse he's found wandering around the courtyard, handing out letters while still trying to mind said horse and hound- horse following at his heel better than the hound tends to.

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"Oh," she replies, thinking that over. Other than the rifters, the only person she knows who has a shard stuck in them is Sina, and if there was any way to help her, Ellana would have made sure Sina had the treatment by now. "The healers and mages have studied people who have rift shards in them, but no one knows yet how to remove them. I'm sorry. You could ask around the healer's tents over there if you'd rather not take my word alone."

"Huh." Well. Merde. "Ain't a way to just magic it off? Give it a little spell or summat and send someone on their way?"

Honestly he's got things to do and sticking around the Inquisition while they try to wrap bandages around the gutwound of the world ain't exactly one of them.

"I'm afraid not. If something like that could be done, the people here who have them would probably be far happier." But then her head tilts in thought. "Of course, then there would be no one able to close the rifts anymore and demons would keep pouring through. At least they're good for something."

"..." Give him a second. Or. Five.

"You're say'n my hand is some kinda magic now?" What kind of nugshit is this?

Magic nugshit, Mal. Magic.

"Well, I'm saying it's capable of something that certainly seems like it. But that doesn't make you a mage; just in possession of something we don't fully understand yet."

"But I don't want it. I wanna get it gone and get on with my life." He didn't ask for this. He didn't need this. He's put up with enough end of the world bullshit and he doesn't need another go around. No Ser.

"Of course you don't," Ellana says, a small frown coming to her lips. "I can't imagine who would. And if I knew how to get it out for you, I would. I have a friend suffering with the same, as well as several rifters friends. I don't wish this on anyone, but there is no easy solution right now. I'm sorry."

"...So I'm stuck with this. Till, what? Someone here sorts this out? If I want it gone I gotta cut off my foutu arm?" Cuz that, that ain't an option! That is decidedly NOT an option, now or ever. He likes his arm, he's been through a lot with this arm. "Had it my whole life and I'm not really all that keen on gett'n things changed."

Startled, Ellana shakes her head no; even waves her hands for emphasis.

"Creators, no! Not that! They'll figure it out. Please, just give them time. In the meantime, you can talk to the others with the same thing and see how they're coping. That's something I can't understand."

"Look I don't wanna monter sur mes grands chevaux about this, I just want it fixed. Point me at who I need to bother to get some kinda answer that ain't 'well you're stuck with that' or 'Maker's Breath he's a demon' and I'd be mighty appreciative." Cuz he can't stay. He can't. He's got a crew what needs him.

"I-- I don't know what that means," she admits quietly. It sounds Orlesian, but as she told Felix once, she has no interest in learning Orlesian. What she wants is to be able to learn the whole elven language, but much like Mal now, they can't always get what they want.

"There are healers over there," she continues, pointing towards the healing tents. She knows they won't be able to give him an answer any more useful than she has, but he seems unwilling to believe her, so what else can she do?

"Don't want to make a fuss, more or less." And yet here he is, fuss'n. Malcolm sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, trying to settle himself. It is what it is. He'll make do. Stick around till this thing gets fixed. "...see'n as I'm gonna be here awhile...mind show'n me where to find the stables? Gotta get Sasha settled in and warmed up. The ride up here was mighty long."

"Oh." Now she can't even recall what the Orlesian phrase was, but perhaps if he says it enough, it'll stick in her mind. She wonders if that's how it is when elves speak certain elven words in front of other races.

"Of course. It's over here. Sasha's a pretty name." She begins to guide him over. "You said you've traveled a lot. Have you ever happened to come across elven ruins?"

"More'n once. Try to keep a wide berth- things creep'n around in there if they've been lay'n for long enough- or there are bandits hid'n. Or wolves. Or Bears. Or on the odd occasion Elves themselves. Got hired to clear one of rats, once, try to pick out anything useful." Lotta little bits of shine in that busted up place. Lotta moss. "Mighty creepify'n if you ask me. Don't much care for 'em- which works out as they ain't mine t'care for."

"I hope to see ruins someday. I never have. And if I go with others, we can better protect ourselves from whatever might be there." it's sad to think of bandits taking over places that had once been home to her people. Children played there, elders wrote down their history, wrongly thinking that future generations would be able to read it all. Families grew and thrived, and then it was all lost.

"Here we are. It looks like there's some room over here for Sasha."

"Wander around long 'nuf? You'll find 'em. They're everywhere. Can't hardly swing a stick in some woods for hitt'n them." Not that it's all that bad. Sure they're old and creepy and haunted but they don't bother him none so long as he don't have to go through 'em.

Sasha's wandered up behind like an obedient dog, nosing into the back of Mal's shoulder for an apple. He pulls one out of his pocket and offers it over while leading her to the free stall. "Awright, let's get you combed out- that is my glove, it ain't food. You quit that."

"It shows how prominent we once were," she replies quietly, letting the horse the next stall over sniff her hand. The Free Marches weren't really known for their elven sites beyond the Sundermount, but Ellana hopes that here further south she'll see plenty. It's just a matter of being sent out on missions to areas where they're around.

"Have you had her long?"

"Few years, now, mostly she's kept in a stable by the coast as I spend more of my time on my ship than on land. She's a good mare, works hard. Got me here in one piece." Even with the bears. Sure did earn her rest though. Happily munching away at an apple he grabs a comb and starts to work, Jayne leaning against his legs for scratching of his own.

"You gotta wait your turn."

"That she did. And now you can both rest and relax." Or as much as he can with a shard in his hand.

Her eyes travel down to the dog and she has to chuckle at the sight of him wanting attention.

"I should probably leave you to focus on your animals. It was good meeting you." She takes her letter out from under her belt. "Besides, I need to see what's in this envelope." She could feel something more within the lumpy envelope, and once she opens it, she'll see her friend has sent her a lovely necklace along with her letter.

"Same to you, miss." He spares a hand to reach down and scratch Jayne's ears anyway- he can multitask. And it ain't so small a thing that she's opening that he can't be a little curious- that lump was more than parchment, he knew that much.

The necklace, though, earns a low whistle. "Now ain't that somth'n. You got a special someone back home?"

Ellana carefully untangles the chain on the necklace, letting it dangle in front of her.

"Halla horns," she says softly, looking touched. "It's a gift from Atisha. We have been friends almost a decade now, because we share a situation that drew us close together in friendship, even though you'll find it hard to find two people more different."

"Sometimes similar circumstances is all it takes t'bring folk together. Want'n a little more sky and a little less overhang brought me and mine outta noth'n." They had no reason to sail and work and live together otherwise. "Sometimes? Those bonds are stronger for it."

"They are. No one understands me like her." There's a sudden pang at the thought of how no one here really knows her. And what her clan knows, they probably don't like. She knows what they think behind her back: the shems' pet, the naive one. Atisha wouldn't think of her like that. It makes Ellana all the more impatient to read her letter.

"I should go read this now. I hope you find rest here."

"You do that. I'll be here, mind'n my horse." Jayne wuffs from his side. "And the Mabari."

Always 'the' never 'my', cuz Jayne ain't his dog. He gives her a wave before turning back to the horse, putting his back into the combing.

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Take my love, Take my land

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