Open | Life is just a troubled sea

[keenly]

WHO: Colin + You
WHAT: Open post for Haring
WHEN: Throughout the month
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: If you would like a starter, let me know.

I. Eyrie

No one here has yet been eaten by a griffon, but there's a first time for everything.

They're big. They're all so, so big, and they look hungry, and one of them is literally drooling. Fortunately, most of them are ignoring the normal-sized healer as he creeps about two feet into the eyrie, then stands there frozen. Is this a bad idea? This is a bad idea. Animals can smell fear, and these animals have sharp claws and sharp beaks and sharp talons. Thing is, these animals could mean life or death to a wounded ally. Moreover, he's learned a thing or two about himself from these bizarre dreams, and the most important of those things is that he's not as normal and boring as he has striven to be all his life. His instinct to hide from all things remotely heroic isn't as important as his curiosity, and when faced with both fear and wonder, he's going to try to act on the wonder.

That is, until one large, glossy, black griffon comes up behind him and nudges his elbow gently, at which point he chokes on a squawk and stumbles away from it. It follows. He bumps into another griffon, which makes an annoyed sound. Eventually he remembers to stand still. The black griffon approaches him and gives his shoulder a tiny headbutt. Colin turns positively grey. It gives his hand the gentlest of nips and Colin squeaks, backing away again.

II. Closed to Alexandrie

The doorman doesn't even have time to announce Lexie's guest before Colin is storming up to her. She has never seen him this angry, not even during their recent fight.

"You won't believe the conversation I just had," he snarls at the same time as the doorman stammers "A-apothecary Colin, my lady."

III. Obligatory workplace setting prompt

It's the apothecary. Maybe Colin is bottling potions and tinctures. Maybe he is sweeping. Maybe he is compounding various herbs. Maybe he is cooking lunch over the fireplace. Maybe he has run out of things to do and is sketching in a book. Come bother him.

IV. Wildcard

Comments

iii.

[cozen]

Bastien enters with a light knock on the door frame, with a reason for the visit wrapped in a handkerchief in his hand, and the sort of slight smile that indicates he hopes he isn’t being a nuisance and might easily be turned away if he is—but only for a moment. As soon as he has a good look at the room, his eyes light up, and he’s coming in without waiting to be invited.

“I did not know you could draw,” he says.

[keenly]

"I can't," Colin says with a chuckle, showing him. It's actually pretty good, but that's not what he thinks. "But I like it. It's soothing."

[cozen]

“Arrête tes conneries,” Bastien says while leaning over to look. “It’s wonderful. I always wished I could draw—but not enough to put the time into learning, I suppose, so it is not fair of me to be too jealous.”

[keenly]

That's unexpected. Colin grins bashfully at the praise.

"I must have started working at it a couple of years ago. No learning, just practice. Nothing you couldn't do."

[cozen]

"Perhaps," Bastien says. "But I am still working on legible handwriting. Maybe after I have mastered that."

He leans on the edge of a worktop—not quite sitting on it, to avoid disturbing anything—and puts his little bundle next to his hip for later. It can wait a bit.

"How are you? Better, I hope?"

[keenly]

Colin nods. "Still not sure what to make of the Divine's decision, but she didn't nullify what happened in Ferelden. So."

A shrug. "How are you?"

[cozen]

“Ah, you know,” Bastien says, with the uninterested ease of a man fortunate to be no one in particular, with human ears and no anchor and no ability to shoot fire out of his fingertips. Relatively speaking, he’s always fine. Obviously. “I have rewritten the same letter three times today, so I decided to let it sit a while, to see if that helps—high drama in the diplomacy offices.”