(closedish openish) keep you like an oath

[byblow]

WHO: Alistair & Others
WHAT: Some sulking, some snark.
WHEN: Third week of Haring + bonus first week of Wintermarch.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: No open starters, but if you want something PM me or hit me up on Plurk! Or drop a starter of your own on me and I'll roll with it.

Comments

snow butterflies.

[chainlightning]

[ It's cold out, of course, but Merrill has lived far more outside of the city than in it. She knows how to deal with the cold, both practically and magically. Now that they're out of Kirkwall and have reached Skyhold, it seems as though there's once again more time to relax. Honestly, it makes Merrill feel a little useless -- so far, she isn't sure what to do. She's read, met new faces, looked after those elves that came with her from Kirkwall, all of it -- but she doesn't really know what else to do. Going for a walk seems as good an option as any, staff in hand. Getting lost doesn't seem like too much of a concern -- there are her tracks to follow, and even where there are a great deal of tracks, the majority of them lead to Skyhold. Skyhold itself is also rather difficult to miss, as opposed to a small door in Kirkwall.

Eventually she finds a clearing among a group of trees and stretches, arms and staff above her head. The snow is thick, deep, and Merrill simply lets herself fall backward into it with a slight 'oof' as she hits the snow. It's a bit cold, which makes her laugh a little, and then she shifts -- arms and legs, back and forth -- and then she laughs again, louder and clear, bright in the otherwise still snow. ]

collapses onto you, belatedly

[byblow]

[ The laugh stops Alistair in his tracks.

In context, and given his mood, it's sort of a creepy laugh, caught and carried by wind that occasionally whistles or howls. He'd thought he was alone; he wanted to be alone. His presence out in the valley now is an empty threat to walk across Orlais by himself if he has to, witnessed by no one and thus not doing much to make him feel better. So out here in the emptiness, piercing through his dour mood, the laugh is creepy.

He walks toward it all the same. He's brave that way.

He's a noisy walker, more so in the snow, and makes no attempt to sneak up on her or to get too close. He stops as soon as he can see what she is—nothing ghostly or demonic, only an elf. A familiar one. His wary, sullen expression softens, just a little, into something more baffled and reluctantly amused. ]

You're going to freeze solid.

licks your face

[chainlightning]

[ 'Creepy' has been used to describe her before, of course. She is a blood mage. But she doesn't know Alistair's thoughts, hears the crunch of the snow and reluctantly sits up to see who (or what) is approaching. It's no bear or darkspawn or other enemy, she can tell that much before he gets closer. When Merrill realizes he's someone familiar, however, she laughs again and waves a hand at him. ]

Oh, not for a while yet! It's quite fun, actually, and warmer than you think if you're under the snow.

[ She flops back down, making some of the snow fluff up around her, and reaches backward for her staff. This time she stands entirely, using the base of the staff in a separate section of snow as balance before carefully leaping out of her own imprint. ]

And much more fun than just leaving normal tracks to follow back.