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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Well, it is nice to find those of like mind. Especially when it comes to matters of faith, and where the Chantry should go. That they needed to rebuild, and not just ... give up. Giving up, Norrington had found, was what poisoned so many of their brothers and sisters.

"It has been. I am still on light duty." Sigh, five days of light duty. "But I am here, and I am alive. The Maker shines on this day." He nods, returning that faint smile with his own.

He begins to curry the glossy coat of Dauntless, who cheerfully munches on his apple. "He is - this is Dauntless. A finer horse I could not ask for. He's carried me the length of Thedas, twice over."

Thankfully, Alayre won his freedom today and is free from his usual duties for now. Today is a day of much needed relaxation and hopefully nothing else. He plans to venture out for a ride later in hopes of seeing something new out there within the icy tundra. Alayre is admittedly a tad stir crazy here in Skyhold.

"The Maker shan't forgot your efforts today or any other day if you do them well." He replies with a grin. "The same goes for those we deem as our peers."

Alayre pauses momentarily as he takes another glance at Norrington's horse. "Has he? Quite a feat! How old is he? My Durandal is close to seven years old now." He speaks fondly of the mild-mannered white mare before him. When Alayre comes across another snag, the horse lets out a grunt and turns to nudge her rider's hand.

"Oh, my apology." Alayre whispers as he pats Durandal's cheek. "Seven years old and still as fussy as she was as a colt, I think." Something's simply will never change.

"She is Durandal, named her after a fabled blade from a book I once enjoyed."

Norrington has appreciated the peace and the quiet - a chance to sit and think. He has had quite a lot of soul searching to do, as he waited for a chance to go on full duty and speak with Commander Cullen directly. So for him, this time is a time to prepare. To reflect.

Right now though, it is simply time with his horse.

"I sincerely hope so. I am always one for doing things competently, including earning the Maker's blessings." He smirked faintly, as his brush began to move with a swifter, more even hand. "And I trust all here are doing the same."

He patted Dauntless's rump, "Four years old, if he is a day. I purchased him the day I became Knight Captain." He looks over at the white mare, nodding his head approvingly, "She's a sweet thing. Even if she is a touch fussy."

Dauntless nickered, and Norrington dug into the bag at his side, presenting Dauntless with another apple, "You shall have to run this all off later, my fine fellow."

One corner of his mouth lifted, "I have always enjoyed such tales - more the factual versions, but still. Dauntless is named after an attitude I hope I can continue to cultivate."

The compliment certainly reaches Durandal's ears since the horse spares Norrington a glance. Fussy or not, Durandal is indeed a sweet and gentle girl. It's almost hard to believe that those gentle mare is a war horse. Durandal is a veteran at this point, she's seen battle most of her life but no one would be able to tell judging how well Alayre cares for her.

"Careful, she'll charm you out of apples as well as your Dauntless does." Alayre says as he eyes the stallion. "Only four years old? Quite young but strong. Typically a horse is about five years in before it can be ridden." He briefly turns his attention back to Durandal when she nuzzles his hand again. The poor dear simply wants his attention today.

"Are you truly so fearless, Norrington?" Alayre asks curiously. "There's plenty who believe they are but seldom is it true. Although, I do feel incline to believe you." There's a hint of subtle playfulness in Alayre's tone that might be easily noticed by Norrington. Despite always seeming so grim, the Hero of Pharos does have a lighthearted side to him.

Norrington gave the white mare a small smile, before Dauntless chuffed at him, and he patted the horse again, "Down boy. You know I would never stray."

He ran the brush in circles, wondering if he should work on the mane or the tail next, when he answered Alayre's question, "We grow them slightly heartier in the Free Marches - what with all the varying beasts around that can kill you - it's better to have a horse you know can stomp even on a giant spider, if need be."

And that statement has Norrington stopping altogether, "For my faith? For my brothers and sisters? Absolutely. I will face any challenge. There, I am always resolute in following what I consider to be the true path of the righteous." He smirked, before he continued, "Now if you ask me if that applies to personal situations ... well. We are Templars. I do not know a single Templar who has not turned red about the ears at a pretty smile from a pretty woman or man."

Giant spiders? That certainly doesn't bode well with Alayre. The Free Marches are quite known to him but still harbors a great dislike for the local fiends, especially those disgusting spiders. Alayre almost makes it a point not to venture there alone.

"Ah, so there's a limit to your fearlessness to some degree." He chuckles quietly. "Alas, I understand. For sake of the Order itself I'm without fear as well but personal matters are quite...different." How different? Alayre's not telling. "Although, I wonder if a Templar could truly become adjusted to living life outside of the Order. We are not common folk, you and I." He gives Norrington a quick glance.

"I wonder how a man such as Rutherford managed to adjust so well since his heydays at Kirkwall but I don't dare ask."

Meanwhile, James had gotten all too used to violent wildlife, between the wild dogs, the Tal Valshoth, the blood mages and of course the spiders.

"One must have limits, otherwise one will never know when one is able to surpass them." He gives the other man a sympathetic look, before he looks thoughtful himself, "I ... honestly do not know. I suppose we are now in a unique position to find out."

He brushed his horse quietly for a moment, before saying simply, "Perhaps he is simply stronger than we are."

Norrington's answer wins another glance from him. "Do you really think that it's strength that guides him?" Alayre asks suddenly with a bit of a frown upon his face. "There's plenty of renegades who've left the Order in favor of rape and pillaging. None of these men are deemed as brave nor strong. They're nothing more than mere dogs who've abandoned the Chantry's teachings and all that we stand for." Alayre pauses for a moment once he realizes how angry he truly sounds. It's not often that he shows such frustration but this is a topic he's quite opinionated about.

"Then you have Rutherford." He continues after a bit of awkward silence. "Then you have -him- who've decided to use his newfound freedom for something other than himself. I know naught of what to think of him. I shouldn't trust him for he is no longer one of us. It's not as if the man hides behind the guise of a Grey Warden." That may or may not be a slight dig at a particular "grey warden" here at Skyhold.

"Nevertheless, I suppose we're no different, Norrington. Have we not abandoned the Order as well and sought refuge here?"

Edited 2015-12-26 13:10 (UTC)

James listens quietly, as he works through Dauntless's coat. It was one of his stronger, more subtle, talents. Learning how to listen was how you learned about the people around you, and from that? You could learn what motivated them in turn. You could have a greater understanding, and that helped you build stronger bonds. Made you a better leader.

Maker, he missed Lydia.

He moved to brush out Dauntless's tail, before he finally speaks, "Strength comes in many forms, brother. Sometimes it is the strength to keep following the same path as so many have before you. And sometimes, it is having the strength in your own faith to know you are following a better path by walking a way less traveled."

He arched an eyebrow at Alayre, "Like us. We are still Templars. We still are loyal to the Chantry and to the Order. But what that is has to change now, and we have to be among those who change it. As Cullen walked away, to affect change here, in the Inquisition."

Alayre is quiet for a spell when Norrington speaks. The other Templar honestly has a decent rapport with him to discuss this topic openly. Alayre is known to keep most of his innermost thoughts to himself, especially in regards to the Templar. He doesn't make it a habit to speak too much about how he feels about the Order.

"Mayhaps I've judged too harshly." Alayre says quietly as he idly pats Durandal's side. "Strength does come in different forms. Neither of us know of the tribulations Rutherford endured and I'm not privileged to judge him for I have my own trials to face." That's probably the truest thing that Alayre has ever said.

"My only desire is to bring honor to us Templars and undo the evils done under our watch."

Norrington understands this - he has kept his silence for so long on this subject that he feels like he has built up a brick wall around his own words. Yet if they cannot speak to one another, then how are they to change anything? How are they to come back from their mistakes?

Silence and following orders blindly was what had gotten them into this particular mess. Norrington was not going to throw his honor away for 'respectable silence' any longer.

"The Maker sets us all on our own roads, Alayre. We truly do not know what road Rutherford follows, because neither one of us has bothered to ask." One corner of his mouth twisted, "I hear he's somewhat antisocial -- but I have never known a Templar who did not need a meal. Perhaps we should bribe him out of his office with dinner and see what transpires."

He nodded his head at that statement, "As is mine. We start that by keeping our minds and hearts open for those who truly feel the call of the Maker to this duty, and letting our brothers who have been too scarred ... or in fact never should have been our brothers, go."

At the thought of Rutherford possibly being anti-social, Alayre could honestly see it. The man is reclusive and difficult to find at times thanks to his busy schedule. Therefore, maybe Alayre is a tad harsh in regards to Cullen. The Commander has yet to leave much of an impression on him and that's an unfortunate truth that can be rectified by an night out with ale. That is as long as Norrington plans to join them and maybe Taashath. The qunari certainly loves to drink.

"That seems as good idea as any." He replies in regards to taking the commander out for drinks. "Maybe I'll finally gain the answer I seek without merely relying on my assumptions about him." Alayre cracks a slight smile. "I'll make certain we'll drink well."

His smile dims. "The journey we have before us is a long one with many paths and roads. Along the way we may lose ourselves and those we once found dear, but we cannot stray from the path lest we're truly lost." If they must thin the Order's ranks to save it, then Alayre is all for it. It's as Norrington said, some simply weren't meant to be Templars.

To be fair, all Templars have some level of anti-social behavior. It came from having to stand watch and hardly ever speaking to one's charges, something that had broken down in the Ostwick Circle. He had heard about the terrible things that happened in Kirkwall - that Cullen remained quiet and withdrawn was well, natural.

"As I have heard from the Lady LeBlanc ... assumptions simply make asses." He paused, and then smirked. "I am paraphrasing a little."

He nods at that, equally serious, as he continues to brush out Dauntless's tail. "There is much ... I am just unsure of where to begin. Perhaps once I am settled a little more, have a better idea of what we are dealing with. Outside of the Mage Council refusing Harrowings." A sigh, "I have no idea how they are going to curb this issue -- but I hope they inform us. This could get out of hand, all too quickly."

A laugh escapes him once Norrington mentions the witty Adelaide Leblanc. "Ah, you know of her! Honestly, that certainly sounds something that the Lady would say." He lets out a comedic sigh. "Lady Leblanc has a way with words, Norrington. I remember when I first met her, every word was layered with frost and disgust." He shakes his head. "That woman hates me, I'm certain of it. Although, I do believe we've reached a reasonable plateau as of late. I no longer fear that she'll freeze my heart cold anymore." Alayre sounds oddly chipper about narrowly escaping the Enchanter's icy fury. It's an achievement for him much like fighting darkspawn.

"Do they?" The conversation takes a more serious turn again at the mention of the Mage Council. "From last I saw of a proposal they introduced, I do believe they agree to the concept of Harrowings but under a new title and strict regulation by their council."

"I have met the Lady. She very kindly fixed up my ribs - and then firmly corrected me on being an assumption, many times over. She reminds me of ... some mage friends I had, not too long ago." He sighed, quietly wistful, before he grins lopsidedly at Alayre's description. "I have yet to get to that state - so you are miles ahead of me, my friend."

Now Alayre had Norrington's attention, "Did they? Then hopefully Cade's information is simply woefully out of date. I am pleased to know they are coming up with a solution that will not require more strident methods."

Just when Alayre was about to check on Durandal's hooves, the other mentions Cade. "He's an odd one, isn't he?" He suddenly blurts out suddenly. "Don't fault him. When a representative hailing from the Council spoke with me, it was a few hours after the meeting. Initially, they nullified the practice of the Harrowings as a way to snub the remnants of the Templar here. Although, they've been lulled into reason." Lulled into reason? Interesting choice of words here. Alayre is hinting that someone convinced the Mage Council to allow the Harrowings to continue but he doesn't know who.

"Nevertheless, they have my gratitude. It should go without saying that the Inquisition has enough trouble to bear. We cannot have this become an ongoing issue." There's a little hint of frustration in his tone now. This idle chatter about the Council somewhat wins his ire.

Norrington pauses at that, and nods gravely, "Yes, he is. I believe I know why, as well. He was at Kirkwall and ... well. Anyone who walked out of Kirkwall and could still call himself a sane man was someone made of sterner stuff than most." Read, Cullen Rutherford. "I came to help in that area, hunting blood mages after the death of the Grand Cleric .... monsterous, monsterous things, Meredith did there."

He pats Dauntless on the neck, before looking over at the other man curiously, "Lulled to reason, you say. Hmmmm ... I wonder who has a silver enough tongue for that." Oh, he's onto you.

"No, we cannot. The sooner it is resolved, the better. Then we can move forward into correcting the real problem. Corypheus."

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Never An Uneventiful Day

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