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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Ellana's used to the sight of someone handing out mail, though today's deliverer is a new face to her. The fact that a horse and dog are following him makes for a rather funny image. He must just be an animal person? She's spent a little time around the stables herself, but she prefers the harts and halla to horses or anything else. The halla especially. They're so serene and gentle, but she knows they can be roused to action if there's need. After all, isn't it said that the ancient elves rode halla into battle?

Since she really only gets mail from two people in the clan, she doesn't expect letters all the time, but she wanders over anyway, just to see. Perhaps today will be her lucky day.

"Hello," she greets gently, always wary of first impressions with humans. "Would you happen to have a letter for Ellana Ashara?"

"Ellana Ashara- yep. Got one for you right here." He digs through his pack, letters rifling as he picks through the paper. The noise picks up the attention of both the horse and the dog- the Bay mare leaning against him, nosing at his shoulder as he picks pulls out the wrapped papers in question- Jayne outright rears up to nip at his wrist. "Arrête ça-"

The horse is nudged away gently- the mabari? Not so much. He gets a boot which gets a grunt- but Mal's wrist is freed up easily. "Here you go. Might be more than paper in there, feels kinda heavy."

The dog leaping has her jumping back a step, even though he's not jumping at her. She merely reacts since he's a big dog and she's a waif if ever there was one. And she can hardly blame the man for kicking at the dog since he's been hurt by him. She knows nothing of dogs' behaviors, but that didn't look pleasant, even if it was meant to be playful on the dog's end.

"Really?" she asks, taking the letter and recognizing Atisha's handwriting. "I can't imagine what." She squeezes the letter, trying to guess.

"Down, Jayne-" Another whap, folded papers of another letter right on the nose. It gets the dog to sit at least. Even gets him to whine. "Now don't look at me like that- you made a fuss so you got whapped. Pardon him, he gets all kindsa excited around pretty girls. Can't hardly help himself."

It takes a full booted shove against the Mabari's side to get him to move over. Idiot. "It ain't food I can say that much. Jayne'd have been all over it otherwise."

"Well, he hasn't jumped on me yet, which I consider a good thing. I wasn't looking forward to getting bowled over." Still, she gives Jayne a look out of the corner of her eye, just to make sure he doesn't try anything. He could be unpredictable.

"No, she wouldn't send food. The clan has to save all it can, especially in the colder months." Besides, probably the only thing that would keep and fit in an envelope would be jerky, and she knows a mabari would go mad trying to tear into it.

"Are you from Orlais?" she asks, tucking the letter behind her belt. "Those words you said -- I don't understand them, but I thought they sounded Orlesian."

"I said git- g'wan to the kitchens, bug them for awhile." Another shove of his foot against Jayne's shoulder has the dog wandering away. The horse stays, chin hooked over Malcolm's shoulder. It's- more normal than he'd like to say. Fearsome warsteed Sasha ain't. He reaches up to pat her soft muzzle when that question wrings a chuff of laughter from him.

"Who, me? Naw." Light and drawling, more dwarven in it's sound though his height and bearing mark him far from dwarfish. "Not Orlesian at all. Just picked up bits 'round here and there. Enough people speak it roundabouts where I grew that it stuck with me."

Hopefully the kitchen staff aren't knocked to the ground by the hungry dog. Ellana watches Jayne go before turning her attention back to the man.

"Where did you grow up, if you don't mind me asking?" It sounds like there could be an interesting story there, and Ellana loves stories about the lives of others. They're all exciting in their own way, because they've had different experiences than she's had in her own life.

"Fereldan." Broad enough to part with- anything more he ain't much interested in spreading around. It's his. Not much left of that Ranch or what happened to it- but what little there is he keeps close to his chest. "Nice enough country, fulla mud, people, dogs. Sometimes with the mud it's hard to tell which is which."

"I've seen a little of Fereldan. We traveled through on our way to Skyhold." And immediately she realizes she needs to explain what she means by "we." "I mean some others in my clan. We all came over from the Free Marches."

It was her first time away from the clan, her first time on a ship, her first time seeing humans, dwarves, qunari, and elves from the cities. There's still so much of the world to see, but she's had a decent start.

"I also went to the Fallow Mire, so I know all about the mud."

Ariadne was constantly at loose ends. Which wasn't so bad because it meant that she could watch the way the natives behaved around each other. She was trying so hard to learn the ways of Thedas. But all of it was a bit jumbled in her head. The place was close enough to being like home, but far enough away. Sort of the perfect storm.

Aunt Lysia would be ashamed of her. She was supposed to be a better spy than this.

Still, one didn't easily unlearn everything she'd ever known.

That morning, the courier caught her attention. Couriers were always her favorite people. They could still travel with something close to impunity. They saw things that no one else did. Back home. She was still learning the rules here.

As he went about his business, she followed at a distance. Sometimes in the trees, sometimes walking. She tried her best to stay out of sight, but her curiosity meant that she wasn't exactly at her best. And she supposed that didn't matter too much. What interest would a lost Rifter hold to him?

"Oh - "

Kitty does have food. She's on her way out to do a bit of bartering with some of the nearby homesteaders, trading some of her accumulated rations (of which she has a fair amount) for wool or and other warm garments. So the dog butts her with its head, and it is a very large dog and she is a very small dwarf. It's enough to tip her right over and send her landing on her butt in the dirt, giving a cry of protest as she does. (Or...Well. Cry might be somewhat too dignified an identification of the noise she makes. It might be something a little closer to squeak. No matter.)

"JAYNE!" Of all the connerie he's had to deal with today, Mal's got to put wrangling this dog as the most trying. Even for Jayne this is bad behavior- to that he's about to pretend he can wrangle the dog into any kinda good behavior but still, he knows better. More than one whap upside the head ought to have taught him better.

Apparently he's as bad with orders as the man he was named for. Figures.

Mal swings down off the mare, butt of his spear snapping up to smack Jayne under his jaw with enough force to stun and startle and get him to SIT rather than maul. "Now what do I keep say'n you bête enragée? Dwarves ain't for eating."

Dog chastised (or something like that) Mal offers his hand down to the dwarf in question. "Sorry 'bout that. He gets mighty stupid around food."

Soldier around long enough and a body got a sense for being watched. Get ambushed more than once and it was less a 'sense' and more a prickling at the back of the neck that wormed it's way through skin and into bone in short order. Fairly certain that no one that was out for his head or his hide was this far up north or would get caught dead with the Inquisition- Mal ignored it for the moment.

Went about delivering his letters like he was paid to. Fighting off Jayne for the packets that had food and things that smelled like food and even a few things that didn't but the damn mabari was hungry anyway. If Jayne caught on that they were being watched- he was too hungry to be bothered to sniff it out. Lazy dog.

"Now that is a place fulla all kinds of unpleasantness, and I'm not just talk'n about the folk what live there." He props his spear against his shoulder and leans into it, lounging a little. A fine, restful trick that looks a little rakish- well. When he ain't covered in mud that is.

"See'n as you didn't get drowned in all that boggy water I suppose whatever saw you down there got seen to?" Dalish are good at that, seeing things get done. Or leastaways the ones he's met.

Every scent the dog caught, Ariadne caught as well. She still wasn't entirely familiar with all of the fare in Thedas, but she had enough sense and familiarity to know that it was food. She watched the way the poor dog went after it all and her heart bled for him a little. Poor mutt. He was hungry.

Animals loved Alastrians. And the reverse was true as well, at least in Ariadne's case. So without too much hesitation, she dropped out of a tree--only a few meters away--and reached into her pack, pulling out a hank of bread she'd been saving for later.

Carefully and neatly, she crouched down, holding it out toward the dog.

She reaches up for his hand. It's a bit of a long reach. She's going to have a bruise tomorrow, but she's survived worse than a bruise before, and otherwise no damage has been done. Honestly, it looks like the dog got it worse with that spear. So she tamps down her irritation at the dog, and sighs and responds - "Just about everyone does nowadays, don't they. I can't fault him for being a little more shameless about it than most."

Then, as she's dusting off her trousers, she says, "He's a mabari, isn't he? I didn't realize they were quite that big."

"Wouldn't do that were I you-" not that it stopped her. Not that it stopped Jayne from lunging for the bread like he was after the only meal given to him in months.

Which was a lie, Mabari's are big, make no mistake. Jayne? Was a mite bit cuddlier on account of always eating. Mal fed him and fed him well but the beast had a hole in his stomach or something that never rightly got filled. Little Greed Demon in the making, that.

Mal managed to snake out a hand and grab Jayne by the ear to keep him from bowling the girl over, even if it dragged him a few steps forward in the process. "For the love of- down. DOWN. Don't encourage him, honestly, he got fed this morn'n."

He bends to make the reach a mite bit shorter, no reason she's gotta strain herself on account of his dog being an ass. Once she's up he offers a cut of a friendly smile, something to smooth over the slobbering beast that follows him around. "It'd make more sense if he ain't been fed, but see'n as he has been fed it's just bad manners. He goes after you like that again feel free to punch him in the nose. He'll leave you alone. Won't use his teeth none."

Jayne, in the way all Mabari seem to have, understands enough to whine and lean against Mal's leg all sad and innocent like. It's a lie. "He's a bit of a special case. Big on height and big in weight. Could stand to miss a few meals, honestly."

Ariadne immediately looked guilty, like a child caught sneaking a snack. Which belied her age, really. She was nineteen. "I'm sorry," she said sheepishly, standing up. Her voice, too, was strangely young and mismatched with the rest of her. "I thought he was hungry."

Guiltily, she tucked the hank of bread back into her satchel.

"I've never seen a dog like that before."

Ellana nods. "I think so. There were multiple issues, but we managed to rescue a group of missing scouts. I'm not sure if the healers found a cure for the plague that struck the area or not."

"Oh he thinks he is. Always thinks he is. Bottomless pit on legs, is Jayne." He hauled the Mabari into sitt'n, swearing at him under his breath in tight, clipped Orlesian. It seems enough to chide him a little. A firm smack on the shoulder gets him wandering back 'round somewhere else to look for food.

"Mabari. Ain't mine, jut follows me around on account of my feed'n him when I can. Not bad in a fight. Real bad in a kitchen."

"Huh. Wandered 'round that way a few months ago my own self, didn't hear much about plagues or anyone aside the local drunks what gone miss'n." World's getting wider and stranger every day. How 'bout that? "Inquisition sweep in, clear it up best they can, sweep out again?"

Seems a little...governingish, for his taste.

It seemed she had a talent for finding people with unusual not-pets. Katniss was the same way about the mangy cat that followed her around too.

Of course, Buttercup couldn't get enough of Ariadne, but that was a different story.

"Mabari," she repeated. "Jayne." So many new names to learn. "I think the rule is that if you feed it, it belongs to you. At least, that's how animals tend to think. And children."

"Well if I didn't feed him he'd probably try to eat my boots again. Don't much care for hunt'n for new boots, so I feed him. Besides. He gets me discounts and respectability on account of his intimidat'n manner and most folk assume anyone with a Mabari is some kinda noble warrior or some such." Usually all it takes is talking to Mal to know that isn't the case, but hey. He ain't about to mess with a good thing.

"Reasons I don't go outta my way to feed kids. Have a hard enough time keep'n him fed."

"I don't think he's that intimidating," she said. "He looks sweet." Of course, Ariadne saw beauty in everything. Even things that were trying to kill her.

Especially things that were trying to kill her.

"But...I see what you mean about the boots." Princess Amanda kept dogs. They were mostly for show. All of them were sweet and lovable.

But they did like footwear.

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