faderift | Never An Uneventiful Day

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Never An Uneventiful Day

WHO: Alayre Sauveterre & whomever joins
WHAT: Sometimes doing a little bit of busywork does wonders for the mind. Alayre hopes that will be the case for him.
WHEN: Mid-Haring
WHERE: Various locations at Skyhold (Courtyard, Stables and Library)
NOTES: Both current and new CR greatly welcomed, also negative and positive CR is more than welcomed. ~~Happy Holidays, btw~~

Stables

It's not uncommon to see the former Knight-Commander wandering about throughout the Hold, but it is a bit of a rarity to see him attending to his horse at the stables. As of late, Alayre been far too busy for his own liking. Of course his horse hasn't been neglected by the stable-hands here but Alayre missed spending time with Durandal. That's while he takes it upon himself to spend time with the white mare today and brush her coat. Now that winter has arrived, Durandal is a tad shaggier than normal. A common trait of a horse hailing from the north but that makes brushing Durandal more of a task than Alayre bargained for.

Courtyard

After spending one too many hours at the stables, Alayre makes his way towards the courtyard for the sake of relaxation. There's something truly rewarding about being surrounded by such tranquility, even if there's a few telltale reminders of the chaos that brews. An afternoon stroll through the gardens is a always next on his agenda followed by a brief visit to the library later.

Library

The library doesn't win over Alayre's interest for long due to the absence of a certain cheeky mage. It's somewhat awkward for him to be rummaging through the aisles in search or a good book; especially with the librarian glaring death his way. While it shouldn't be much of a surprise that rumors have begun about him and Salvatore, Alayre is silently mortified.

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Ariadne was dozing again. After falling through the Rift, one would have thought she'd learned her lesson about napping in the high branches of trees. But really, it wasn't the tree's fault that she'd fallen through the way she did. At least, she didn't think so. Anyway, even if it had turned her Human in body, she was still Alastrian at heart. And Alastrians had a hard time sleeping in low places.

As so often happened in that place between sleep and awake, her mind was wandering. She was lazily drifting it the memory of her early days with Aunt Lysia, learning how to do things like open and close doors, bathe inside the house, wear sandals, and eat at a table. At the time, it seemed like an insurmountable amount of new information. She never thought she'd be able to remember it all. But she'd managed. Somehow.

She was back in that place again. She had to relearn an entire world. And in the moments when she wasn't being aggressively optimistic, it threatened to overwhelm her.

But she had to figure it out. Somehow. Because it seemed like she was going to be in Thedas for a long while.

As Alayre strolled through the courtyard, he allowed his thoughts to stray a little. Try as he might to keep his worries at bay, Alayre couldn't help but worry some. The Inquisition is at a precarious position as of late some which is blamed upon their growing ranks. Besides the thought of a spy being concealed with this influx of newcomers, there's the constant arrival of Rifters that give Alayre reason to be concerned. As it stands, the Inquisition is not yet battle ready and there's a slew of issues that still need to be dealt with. However, Alayre shan't trouble himself with any of it today. If anything, he's only worry lies with a certain cheeky mage who've managed to win his affection---and the strange woman sleeping up in a nearby tree.

Alayre couldn't help but stare when he spots her, a full grown woman sound asleep on a tree branch like an overgrown feline. It's awkward to say the least and quite too curious for him to ignore. Not even the elves take to the tree tops like this, so why is she up there? That's the burning question Alayre has as he approaches.

"...Surely there's enough beds in the Hold." He grumbles as he peers up at the woman. "Is this some sort of jest? I'm surprised she hasn't fallen." Uncertain whether or not it's truly safe to leave her there, Alayre looks for a way to get her down.

It was hard to say which Ariadne caught first, his scent or his muttering. Probably his scent. She was used to people marveling at her quirky habits. But the scents of Thedas were still new to her. She was managing to master the basics. It was easy to tell a Human from an Elf, after all. But there were more subtle differences she still needed to work through. Mages, she'd learned, smelled differently from others.

To say nothing of the ones with horns.

She kept her eyes shut until she was absolutely sure that he was upon her, and then slowly opened them. Airy had bright gray eyes, like smooth, silver coins. They--like her voice--seemed oddly younger than the rest of her. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at jests," she said, light and airy as a breeze. "I've tried to tell jokes before, but no one ever laughs."

Just as he picks up a willowy stick to poke the woman with, Alayre is greeted by a strangely familiar gray gaze that eerily matches his own. "Is that so?" He questions with a hint of humor in his quiet tone. "Well then, I suppose you and I suffer from a similar malady then." No one understands Alayre's sense of humor. No one. He's quite the odd one already for a Templar and his sense of humor is always deceptively bland. Seen as quite stern and unyielding most of the time, no one really knows of Sauveterre's more comedic side. Except for maybe Taashath. Only the qunari has seen him drunk.

"I feel quite terrible for ruining your rest but wouldn't you feel more comfortable in a proper bed?" He asks while idly wondering how she managed to get up there. Alayre sometimes like high places too but he doesn't go out of his way to climb trees.

Ariadne sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the branch, using her arms on either side for support. "I wouldn't dream of taking up a bed someone else could use," she replied, entirely honest and earnest about it. She'd grown accustomed to sleeping in them, of course. But why sleep in a bed someone else could use when she was perfectly content as she was? When there were refugees involved, they always came first.

Breathing in deep to feign a little yawn, she studied the man's scent further. Not a mage, she decided. They had a sort of ozone aroma hanging around them.

"Is this your tree? I can go somewhere else. I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

The girl's reply is a tad strange but Alayre thinks nothing of it. If she truly feels more comfortable up in a tree than in a bed, then who is he to judge? He chuckles at her question regarding the tree and shakes his head.

"Of course not. I would unfortunately break my neck if I tried to climb up there." Alayre answers honestly as he places the offending stick down beside the tree. Makes no sense to poke the woman now that she's wide awake now. "I was merely concerned. Not many people I know would sleep in a tree." That most certainly is the truth.

"Is this common practice for you? I always assumed the Dalish would be fond of trees but you seem quite human."

She certainly seemed that way. Ariadne had not yet been quite able to get over the shock of looking down at her hands and seeing them all pinkish and bland. She still expected her skin to be green. And as many times as she might have wished to be Human back home, she had to admit that now that it had happened against her will, she felt more than a little lost.

Just one more new thing to adjust to in this place.

"Dalish," she said carefully, the word still foreign on her tongue. "Those are Elves, right?"

He gives a nod. "Aye, the Dalish are the tribal elves who've separated themselves from human society." Alayre begins while recalling all that he learned and read about the Dalish. "As one would expect from those who are oppressed, the Dalish possess no fondness for men and much rather stick to themselves. They're usually nomadic but we have a few tribes here seeking sanctuary at the Hold." Alayre has only met a handful of Dalish Elves here at Skyhold and most of them are indeed unfriendly towards shemlens. All except one elf who gifted Alayre this beautiful silver brooch he wears upon his cloak.

"This-" He gestures to the brooch. "Is typical of Dalish craftsmanship. They're quite fond of all things that represent nature, especially the twisting vines and branches. The one who gifted me this is no different."

Edited 2015-12-24 18:26 (UTC)

Wryly, Ariadne supposed it would have been more appropriate for the Rift to turn her into such an Elf than a Human. But she'd never once tried to pass for an Elf back home.

Tucking the branch behind her knees, she swung down off of her perch, hanging upside down until she grabbed hold with both hands and pulled her legs free. Neatly, she landed on the ground in a soft crouch and stood up. Hardly an impressive feat of acrobatics for her. But hardly a necessary one either, she supposed.

She walked over to the stranger, offering him a little curtsy before she turned to curiously examine the brooch. "It's beautiful," she said, sincerely.

The girl's a charmer.

There's a unique bit of playfulness in the young woman demeanor that somewhat makes Alayre smile. Maybe it's the polite little curtesy at the end of her elegant climb down that wins him over. She seems so elf-like or least like the elves he read about in books. That otherworldly elegance is nice meshed with a playfulness that one would typically find in children. It's a somewhat odd mix but it works for her.

"Why thank you." He answers in regards to the brooch. "I think so as well and I'm still shocked that a Dalish elf would craft such a thing for a Templar."

"Templar," she repeated. "You're the group that's responsible for looking after the mages?"

She hadn't met any Templars yet. But she'd heard some whispers. Not many of them were complimentary, but Ariadne had learned from her disastrous court experiences not to be too quick to judge, based on rumors.

The results were often humiliating.

Alayre answers with a nod. For good or ill, Templar and Mages will forever be entwined. Just don't say that to an apostate. "Though it's so much more than just that and quite more complex." He states honestly with a sigh.

"Much of the bickering as of late actually deals with the tense relationship between the two factions. Even the chaos we face certainly is directly linked to it. Quite a conundrum, you see."

"Well, I can understand that," she said thoughtfully. "After all, I know of very few grown adults who would ever admit to wanting or needing protection." It was infantalizing. Even Princess Amanda, the last free monarch in the realm, hated constantly having to go from place to place with an honor guard. Let alone body guards.

She tried to imagine herself being taken care of. And the very thought of it made her shudder. Ariadne very much liked employing her own skills to her own protection. And the protection of others.

...it was complex indeed.

"How true." Alayre let's out a dry chuckle. "Although on a more serious note, those who wield magic are in constant threat of the demons that lie within the Fade." He explains after soon realizing that the woman might not understand what he means by that.

"The Fade is a spiritual realm that exists between our realm and the next. I believe it to be akin to something like purgatory. All things can drift into the Fade but mages are uniquely connected to it which allows them to fall prey to the abominations that lurk there." A lengthy explanation but a solid one. The Knight-Commander is merely trying to help this woman understand the many layers of Thedas.

"Believe me when I say there's others who can better explain this." A mild joke at his expense.

Every explanation was a good one. If nothing else, it helped Ariadne to learn different sorts of points of view. She was hardly going to turn down information when it was offered to her.

She had been a spy once, after all.

"From what I've come to understand," she said gently, "those of us foreign to Thedas came here through a rift in the Fade. And there are some people who think that we're abominations."

Alayre cannot help but chuckle at that last bit. "I shall admit that I once thought of you Rifters to be such. When a wandering soul enters the Fade, they can be tempted and overtaken by demons if they lack will. This why the Templars watch over the Mages who undergo "Harrowing'. The Harrowing is an ordeal by which all Mages must undergo to conquer the demons that lie within the Fade. If they succeed, they become full-fledged mages and accept their otherworldly power. If they fail, then fall to a Templar's blade." It's at the mention of the Harrowing that Alayre's chuckles silenced. There's nothing funny about this unfortunate truth. The Templar exist merely to ensure that these otherworldly demons don't walk amongst men. An Abomination can reap havoc upon the masses.

"Hence our troubles now. The mages have a reason to dislike us on that alone but there's so much more that can be said." He lets out a deep sigh. "The sudden arrival of you Rifters is a bad omen to some. A sign of end times and proof that the Maker's gaze isn't upon us."

If Ariadne was interesting in joining a group of people with that kind of initiation, she'd think twice about it. Being a Mage would be wonderful, in some ways. She could only imagine how she could help people with that kind of power. But if she were just killed, she couldn't help anybody. And it would be a waste of two capable hands and a strong back.

No, better to do what could be done than to risk not being able to do anything at all.

But that was just her opinion.

"How do you know we're not demons?" she asked softly. "What defines a demon in this world?"

What constitutes as a demon? Good question.

No one can be absolutely certain that the Rifters aren't demons or possessed by abominations without potentially harming them. Judging from the test that he done upon the Valkyrie Lenneth, Alayre isn't eager to test his swords against another seemingly frail maid. That would only cause unnecessary pain and suffering, especially if this woman before him isn't a demon. Therefore, what truly constitutes as a demon? Hopefully Alayre can give her some insight here. After all, he battled against such demons for most of his life now as a Templar.

"Demons are literally what they are. They're twisted beasts who are transfixed with all the negative emotions that inhabits the heart of weak and selfish men." Alayre explains as he leans against the trunk of a nearby tree. "These monsters exist only to sway the weak into temptation and they often succeed. Once the soul accepts a bargain with these creatures, the human host is often twisted into a monster beyond recognition."

Edited 2015-12-30 04:52 (UTC)

Ariadne had heard many unkind and unfair definitions of 'demon' in her short life, as if every demon race was the same as the others. But she'd never quite heard it this way before. As emotional states. It was at once both intriguing and a little terrifying. Because humanoids possessed such emotions, even without help.

It made demons easy scapegoats. The evil that men did could be blamed on a demon.

She wondered if she'd be blamed for terrible things, if anyone other than Cole found out what she was. Or, well, used to be, anyway.

"What kind of bargain, do you mean? I can't imagine why someone would ever want to be inhabited by anything, let alone a bad feeling."

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Never An Uneventiful Day

Courtyard

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