faderift | the long way to skyhold [OPEN]

Entry tags:

{ taashath }

the long way to skyhold [OPEN]

WHO: Hudson, Sideswipe, and OPEN!
WHAT: A Tal-Vashoth with a mabari arrives with a skinny human mercenary. It sounds like the start of a joke, but there's no real punchline.
WHEN: 21st of Haring
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: Feel free to tag either specifically to Sideswipe, Hudson, or both. ~~Both. Both is good.~~

TAVERN WITH SIDESWIPE, OPEN.

Leaving Manahata had been an enormous decision for him, something he is not always convinced was right, but he is determined to ensure that this Red Templar and Tevinter business is done away with. They have enough to worry about without further complications of holes in the sky and whatnot. The rebellion was bad enough, now there's this, and Hudson knew he'd do what it took to make sure everyone else was safe.

On the way to Skyhold, he'd found this boy, a potential recruit. Mostly skin and bones, long and lanky and young, but determined to make something of himself. He certainly wasn't going to do it by freezing to death on the way to Skyhold, so Hudson has been ensuring that the boy is hauled up the mountain to the Inquisition's fortress.

"C'mon, lad." Practically carrying the redhead, Hudson immediately makes his way to the tavern, knowing that sitting by a fire with something hot in his stomach will help him. "Sideswipe you said was what you were goin' by?"

Kind of a silly nickname, but then again, his companions named him after a river, so there's that.

Hudson puts Sideswipe in a chair, closest to the fire. "Bronx, stay," he orders the mabari, who obeys while wagging his stub of a tail. The giant warrior makes his way to the bar, working on ordering something warm for the boy.

STABLES, OPEN.

It's been a few hours since settling in and making sure that Sideswipe wasn't going to freeze. Ridiculous young warrior hardly wore anything to keep himself warm from the cold. Bit of a show off, but he's young; he'll learn, and he knows it.

For now, Hudson is by the stables. He's already established himself as a recruit for the Inquisition. Simple enough process, really, but for now it leaves him to his own devices.

He's sitting inside the stables, not minding the nearby mounts. The Tal-Vashoth is working on a letter, and at his feet is Bronx, dozing away comfortably.

"Already makin' yourself at home, boy?" he says with a snort, nudging the hound with a foot. The mabari just grunts, hardly offended. "Don't get too cozy. He said you needed exercise."

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He thought this was a great idea. Get the cloak the merchant swore would keep him warm no matter the weather -- and hey, how was he supposed to know it was just regular old black fabric? The guy had been so convincing.

He hadn't noticed anything was off until his fingers stopped moving. And turned blue. So maybe he'd panicked a little, and picked up his pace, spending more energy than he should have. But he had to get to this Skyhold thing! They needed him! And... if he were being honest with himself, he needed it, too.

By the time the big guy found him, he'd been a little hazy -- half-convinced he'd been hauled out of the snowdrift by his father instead of a grizzled, horned warrior. Things were kind of a blur after that, up until there were gates passing overhead and suddenly they were out of the wind. He'd done his best to walk, then, stubbornly, and only tripped over himself once.

"Uh, yes. Yeah! It is," he answers, lamely, once he's in the chair. But all too soon, the big Qunari -- that's a Qunari. Andraste's buttcheeks that's a Qunari -- is gone, and it's just him, and the mabari.

Which of course, he has to try and pet.

The tavern was a nice place to hang out between work, even if the food was weird and the ale weak. Taashath liked the people, seeing the way they relaxed and opened up after days of stress and battle. It was a small and simple place, but so very important to have in order to keep the morale.

The fact that he couldn't hear the dull roar of babble and the strum of the lute were just extra points in his favor.

A little more eye-opening than the average soldier to enter the tavern was a qunari he didn't know, however. They were few around here, enough to count on one hand. This older fellow was new, however, and catches the warrior's interest.

So does the overwhelmed man that's with him. Kid looked like he had been dropped in a glacier and dragged backwards to Skyhold. Scooting over a bit, he gives the guy a nod.

"You look like shit, kid."

"Wha--"

The new voice gets his attention away from the mabari pretty quick. He looks up, expecting to see some other soldier, and is fully prepared to be defensive about his appearance. Because how was he supposed to know the cloak wasn't actually magical? Just conveniently ignoring the fact he probably should have, thanks Chantry.

And then he looks up.

Those bright blue eyes get wider, the freckles on pale cheeks standing out darker.

"... Whoa. More Qunari..."

He blinks, as if belatedly realizing yes, he said that out loud. "I mean uh--! Well! It's really cold out there! Who wouldn't look terrible, right?"

When Taashath approaches, the mabari lifts his head and looks up at him curiously with a quiet grunt, but doesn't seem to be antagonized. The hound simply looks curious, but his stubby tail wags when Hudson returns.

The older Tal-Vashoth glances over at Taashath with a hint of curiosity before he's addressing Sideswipe. "Drink this in sips, lad," Hudson instructs, handing off a mug of tea. "I've a bowl of stew for you when you can eat it."

He considers correcting the boy, but lets it go. It's a common mistake, but not enough for him to care about right now. "Aye, seems to be more than a handful here," he muses, thoughtful.

"We'd just arrived," Hudson finally speaks to Taashath, nodding to him. "The cold's not much to me, but harsher for some." He won't quite tease Sideswipe yet about his lack of appropriate clothing for the cold. Not right now; wouldn't appreciate the prodding, he thinks.

He snorts at the human's reaction, but gives him a disarming smile. "Yeah, I get you. Surprised you got all your fingers."

Taas gives a polite nod back to the older qunari, letting the guy care for the lost little sheep of a man first. Most of it isn't understood, anyway, since they're not facing him and he could only read a word here and there.

When the old man turns to him again, though, Taas smiles a bit and nods. "Welcome to Skyhold, then. It's a big place, but the tavern's nice and warm." Understatement of the Age, but still.

He watches Hudson, rubbing his somewhat unshaven chin a bit. That scar looked nasty, and the older man easily looked like a warrior. With Korrin a mage, Gorse a civilian and the little kid a scout, it was nice to see someone who could swing a weapon.

"I'm Taashath. Formerly Karasaad."

The cup feels so hot he wonders if his hands are going to burn. And he fumbles it for a second, before managing to settle it on the table with his hands loosely wrapped around it. Honestly, he means to drink it, but the fact he's suddenly surrounded by giant horned men is...

... well it's way more awesome than anything in a cup. He could sit here look back and forth between them for hours and not get bored. But the prospect of food once he drinks the tea actually gets through his head and he's sipping at the hot drink in short order.

"'Course I do!" he answers, finally. Of course he still has all his fingers. "I'm a mercenary and all. We've got to be used to the cold!"

There's no way anyone here is going to believe any of that statement, but he had to try.

"And I'm Sideswipe!" he says, brightly, beaming at both of them. He lifts a hand to gesture at the minuscule scar along his hairline. Nowhere near as bad as his rescuer's. But something he's proud of, all the same. It's how he picked his new pseudonym after all. "See? Fits huh?"

"Hudson. Formerly Kithshok, though that feels like a lifetime ago by now." A hand is offered to Taashath. "An interesting name you chose, one that I'm sure much of the Qun would disagree with."

Then again, his companions named him after a river, so as far as interesting goes...

And then there's the boy, bragging, as boys do who are eager to impress. Hudson smiles wryly at him and pulls up a chair. "Impressive, of course," he says, not one to downsize any accomplishment Sideswipe sees fit to speak about. "Taashath, care to join us?"

Mercenary. The kid looked like he could be a lost Chantry boy more than he would a mercenary... but he's not about to mess with a young man's pride. Instead he just smiles, arching his brows a bit at the show of the scar.

He'd had worse while his horns came out back when he was a kid, but hey. Sideswipe. Cute. "Sounds like a damn good name, if any," he starts, and then adds an explanation for the human's sake. "Mine means 'calm'. It's a good reminder."

Taas takes the older qunari's hand, mentally checking himself to remember that he wasn't technically outranked here any more and definitely didn't need to straighten up as much as he did. "I would like that. It isn't every day we have new qunari - and mercenaries - visiting."

Hudson. Taashath. Wow... maybe he should have picked a better name. Even if the latter just means 'calm', it sounds awesome. Maybe he'll find a better one down the road. After all, he got here, didn't he? It's got to be exciting.

He just beams at them both, at the compliments, the expression just a touch smug. Okay, that makes him feel better. So does the drink -- maybe he can pretend it's not just tea. That'll look better.

"Yeah, but there's more Qunari around?" he asks, sitting up straighter. "Like you guys? I mean, I heard there were elves and dwarves and stuff up here too, but..."

He trails off in an awkward gesture. He meant it to be complimentary, but the more he kept on talking, the less it sounded like one. Oops.

The stables are warm, cozy. They smell of horse, and the keep mousers used to hide in here and play with her boot laces. That's likely over, with the presence of a dog and the accompanying smell.

She'd been about to hide her shoes in a hay bale again when she spies the old man and his dog. Qunari. No. The other word. She hesitates in the shadows, light catching a sliver of her arm and dress, as she debates coming back again another time.

Not out of fear, no. But his song is calm, quiet, certain as the ebb and flow of the ocean. Best not to disturb them.

"Should I tell them that you're already whining because you're not getting as many scraps as before? Spoiled boy," Hudson grunts, ruffling the mabari's ears.

Bronx looks a little more alert a bit suddenly, his nostrils flaring before he's shaking his head from Hudson's hand. The old warrior raises a brow before he's looking over his shoulder.

A skinny little thing without shoes. They aren't that under supplied here, are they?

"You don't need to hide, lass. Neither of us bite, especially not Bronx." Though he does understand if she chooses to not approach.

She's quiet a moment longer, still where she stands, before curiosity overrides all and she steps closer. Her eyes shift between the dog and the Tal-Vashoth as she pads closer, before she settles on the dog and drops down to her knee, offering the animal her hand.

"Bronx." The word feels odd on her tongue, no language she knows of.

When she approaches, he smiles and seems to approve the way she's reaching out to his canine. "Aye. They named him after the mountain side where I'm from."

The mabari stands on all four legs, stubby tail wagging as he sniffs her hand before he's shoving his hand into her fingers with an excited snuffle.

"You wouldn't think he was a war hound with that kind of behavior," Hudson says with a snort. "But he's seen plenty of action my way here. And what about you? Do you have a name, or did you lose them with your shoes?"

The question is spoken in a way that's meant as a light joke, gentle teasing.

River giggles, delighted by the animal, the snuffle of his breath tickling her fingertips. Once Bronx nuzzles into her hand she moves to pet him in earnest, scritching him behind the ears and stroking along his neck.

Hudson's question brings a puzzled look to her face, however. "They're not lost," she replies, blinking slowly. "I hid them for the cats. They like to play with the laces. It's alright if I put them back on before Simon finds me. Cole said so," she explained, expression earnest.

A fond look forms on his face as he watches River interact with Bronx, who seems very content at the affection he's receiving. The hound relaxes, sitting back down and leaning just a bit into her hands.

Interesting choice of words, but it makes him grin wryly. "If y'say so. Suppose if the Dalish can run around without any shoes, you should be able to get away with it."

A hand is offered to her. "Hudson. If introductions are t'be in order."

That hand is massive, calloused. The lines that spiral across it are of great interest to her for a moment, her dark eyes scanning them carefully before placing her own hand inside of his palm. It's tiny enough to disappear into the hold, but he's a gentle giant. There's no fear, only curiosity.

"River."

He smiles warmly at her acceptance. There's always a divide of what to expect in terms of interacting with people; they will be afraid, or they will be curious. It's fortunate she doesn't seem to fear him.

"A fine name," he says, chuckling to himself. River and one named after a specific river. It's amusing for a moment. "Who are Cole and Simon?"

Her brow knits delicately. "Friend. Brother. They heal people, make them better when the cracks start to show. Fear pulled at the edges and things come out when you don't close the wound...gets messy."

She seems to drift for a moment, before a cold nose reminds her of the dog. Some of the haze fades after that, and her smile flickers back into place as she continues to ruffle Bronx.

Another day, another pair of boots River's left somewhere besides on her feet. Simon's getting better at going through her usual hiding places and this time he's starting with the stables. Stepping inside and giving the stables a quick look around doesn't reveal them lying about but it's never that easy...though Simon does notice he's not alone in here.

"Ah, sorry to intrude..." Nevermind that it's not as if he barged into someone's room. But the fact that he's walked in on a qunari and his very large dog prompts the mage to be that much more mindful of his manners. Simon's lips thin for a moment, giving the very large dog another look in case there's a pair of leather boots currently being gnawed on to be found. No such luck...

"I don't suppose you've seen a lost pair of boots somewhere in here?" he asks. "Or maybe the girl who would have left them?"

When he hears the young man, Hudson lifts his head from his letter writing and looks at him curiously. The mabari at his feet rises, and Bronx gives Simon's legs a curious sniff before seeming to react positively.

And he can immediately understand why, based on Simon's questioning.

"Not the boots, but I spoke to the girl," Hudson says, grinning faintly. "Are you Cole or Simon?"

Considering the experiences Simon's had with mabari so far he really needs to be commended for holding still while Bronx inspects him. Though the mage does go noticeably stiff at the huffing jaws near his knees. The moment passes and Simon remembers to breathe again, relaxing that much more when he hears that River has been this way...though apparently she took her boots with her.

"Cole...no, no I'm her brother, Simon," he says, brow furrowing slightly. Cole? The name sounds almost familiar, but he's sure he's never met anyone by that name before. Maybe he's a new arrival that River's met? She had a tendency to find the newer faces and welcome them in her own interesting way...

Come to think of it, as few qunari as there were, he hadn't seen Hudson before.

"She didn't bother you, I hope?" he asks.

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the long way to skyhold [OPEN]

FOR HUDSON - also OPEN

surrounds the poor man with huge tal-vashoth

yes good

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oh look, back from holidays!

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