faderift | OPEN: this will be a better year

OPEN: this will be a better year

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: First Day
WHEN: Wintermarch 1 (forward-dated)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Scouts from both the Western Approach and Emprise du Lion are welcome (but not required) to have returned to Skyhold in time for this event.

There have been better First Day feasts, and less crowded ones, and cheerier ones. It isn't a good year for many to look back on, and this one isn't starting any better. Reports from both Eastern and Western Orlais are grim. Many in the Inquisition can't afford to take more than a few hours away from their work, if that.

But for those who can, the ambassador does her best. At lunchtime some tables, hot food, and finery are reserved for visiting nobility and wealthy pilgrims--cause for grumbling in some quarters, perhaps, but they're the people filling the Inquisition's coffers, and allowances must be made--but there's plenty of stew, bread, and ale for everyone, even with the soldiers and refugees who stay outside the fortress invited inside for the holiday. The recently repaired garden and its carefully tended plants aren't off limits, but anyone noisy and holding a drink will be stopped at the door; the battlements, with their potential for deadly falls, are blocked by Inquisition guards. But the courtyards brim with people, most of them happy despite the possibility that the world might end before another First Day arrives.

If the courtyards are too full of tipsy visitors for comfort, there's also the valley beyond the fortress, expansive, barren, and covered in snow. By the river the soldiers help the refugees make a bonfire larger than would ever be allowed inside Skyhold's walls, and some lend their shields to use as sleds down the embankments. A group of scouts start the most intense game of hide and seek Thedas has ever seen, with snowballs to the face for whoever is found first. In the camp, a refugee girl with her hand wrapped in a green scarf chases other children around the tents, shouting raaar, I'm from the rifts!

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And again it's a hop and an awkward spin, but he keeps on spinning this time, a little yell of surprise, no control, skids down past the bottom of the hill, keeps on going, hits an uneven bump, flips, and lands spread-eagle in the snow.

And lays there for a moment before popping his head up and laughing like he's running out of air. Rolls onto his back and holds his splitting sides. "You jackass," he says breathlessly.

Korrin makes a so-so gesture. "Somewhat? I've watched them performed in the past, though whether or not I can do them justice remains to be seen. I'll follow along, though, just take the lead and tell me what I need to know so that I'm not stepping on your toes."

Korrin tilts her head, considering that. "We ought to go with two, right? Even more chance to show off our skills and have a bigger battlefield. The bigger, the better.

...I'll stock up healing potions, just in case." Time with the Valo-Kas has taught her that winter sports can still end in injury, so it's better to be on the safe side.

Even if Taas does step on her feet, Korrin has her armored boots so she could more easily trudge through the snow. Chances are she'll be alright. If anything, she worries about stepping on his when he loses his place, but thankfully avoids that.

"That they are. When they come this way, I'll introduce you." If there's a big battle to be had, Korrin's sure they'll make their way south again, but right now doesn't seem anywhere close to that. Oh, well. Leaning up, she plans a kiss on his cheek just because she can. "And you're very welcome. Anytime, Taas."

"I'll make sure you meet them. Hell, you'll have a hard time not being recruited if that happens." They'd absolutely love Kas and his feistiness, his eagerness to learn. Other issues take priority for the forseeable future, but after this crisis is over, it will be on her mind.

Anyway, yes. Sledding. Flashing a grin in return, she settles in and nods. "Right! Let's show them how it's done!"

"I'm not looking to make any enemies here. I just wanna get home." And if he's gotta make nice with all the shiny magical people, he'll try to manage it. Not that she's being, currently, difficult to get on with.

"Soldiering is...kind of what I do. You could say I was made for it." Ha, it's both (sort of) the truth AND makes him sound pretty badass! Win-win. Ish. "Yeeeep, I saw some action." And was the cause of plenty of action. "Wasn't pretty, but then, war never is."

It was also boring at least some of the time, dealing with dumbasses in a mostly secluded canyon, but hey, that doesn't sound awesome enough.

None of the other Dalish had greeted him in their own words, something he welcomed. He's worked hard over the years to mask his native accent, and unravel those kinds of habits as he could. To hear the sincere greeting almost makes him stumble, an alarming surprise in him.

He slightly disapproves, but gives no verbal inclination of such.

"Not half as much as mine," he says in return, keeping a smile despite his own surprise. "I go by Twisted Fate. Yourself?"

There's a nervous moment just after revealing the gift when Korrin wonders if it's too much, if Araceli might be scared off. Because it is quite plainly a token of affection, no matter how much she's told herself to take things easy and slow. Seeing those tears, Korrin reaches out to gently wipe at them before slipping the bracelet onto the wrist of the hand she takes. Her lips curve in a warm, tender smile that's far more unguarded than anyone in Skyhold has ever seen. Such is the effect a rifter thief has on her.

Whatever she's about to say dies on her lips as she peers at Araceli's gift. That Araceli had even thought of one tickles Korrin endlessly, as she honestly wasn't expecting it. Her eyes widen in delight as she manages to lift her gaze from the band to meet Araceli's, and now they're suspiciously bright. Her voice is rough for a moment as she struggles to speak past the lump in her throat. "It's beautiful, Araceli. That you thought of me is no small thing, trust me. If you would...?"

She holds out her arm, eager to have it on and show it off to absolutely everyone. Well, when she's ready for company other than the exquisite, generous, wonderful woman at her side. That might be a while.

[Sherlock's brow wrinkles, perplexed, almost offended at himself. How could he have slipped on the possibility of fighting at angles other than upright?

...well. He is fairly far under. More than he has been in a while.

At length, he says:] Oh. [And gives a slow blink, staving off the impulse to rub his eye.] Of course. [And then, quietly, a self-judgement:] Damn. [He goes in for another bite of stew.]

She manages to glide to a stop without rolling off the board, dropping into a graceful bow for the handful of people applauding their shared performance. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Clearly you have no idea how to sled."

None whatsoever.

Good catch on the Carta Blade, though. Most people wouldn't have caught that at a glance. Angle of the cut's pretty distinctive, though.

[ It's almost conciliatory, and yet not quite that. He's impressed, for whatever that's worth. Guy's not a spy, though. He could be, but that's not quite what he's cut out for. Not when he's this wasted on purpose.

He studies his fingers for a moment where they wrap around the bowl. ]

So that just a party trick of yours? Or that brew of yours just get the better of you?

[That certainly has Sam raising a brow and a bit of the nervousness leaving his system. It's a subject he's used to after all.]

No, not really. At least not for me personally. I wasn't raised in the Circle, I just ended up living there for half my life. The Chantry is going to be hard pressed if they decide to reinstate the Circles again. Many mages will probably go back to them. That's their choice. I enjoy not living behind walls and having options, and whether or not I should take them.

Edited 2016-01-05 00:23 (UTC)

"We can't continue on like this."

That overwhelming feeling of dread that washed over him earlier now threatened to drown him as he listens to Salvatore. It shouldn't come as any surprise that the rumors about them had spread but he didn't expect her to interfere with this issue any further. While Alayre can understand to a degree about the Enchanter's professional involvement with this predicament, Alayre hadn't expected her to coach Salvatore into this.

"... I see." His anger is muted with silence. Leblanc's meddling has gone a tad too far in his opinion. "She spoken with you, hadn't she?" He asks while busying himself by searching for clean glasses for the two of them.

"The Lady plays her role well as the concerned colleague." Once he finds a glass, Alayre pours himself some wine. "A little too well." He sighs quietly as he takes a sip. The gentle but savory liquor tastes horribly bitter to him tonight.

"Though, she certainly holds merit in her assessment of us, even if most of her dislike of me lingers upon her general distrust of all Templars." He scoffs. "Nevertheless, she's still in the right. This--what we have--cannot continue."

He finishes his glass with another sip.

"No one will ever believe that such an affection could blossom between us. Not considering the obvious age difference and social standings. Clearly they'll think I'll coerced you or worse." Alayre let's out a dry humorless chuckle as he grips the stem of his glass tightly. "I'm already guilty far before given a fair trial. Such is the way of things."

He doesn't believe that Adelaide's concern lies with him as much as it does with Salvatore. Of course she would want to protect one of her own from a possible beast like him. He's a Templar, not only that but a Knight-Commander as well. That title will follow him to his grave and his newest title fits him directly under the Inquisition's chain of command. There's no possibility in this world that such a romance will be tolerated. People would eventually believe he had raped and maimed this young man rather than anything else.

That's the bitter truth.

Edited 2016-01-05 01:08 (UTC)

He smiled anymore, his face would likely stick that way. Not that he would mind terribly at the moment. Feeling like this forever sounded rather amazing.

"So, what about you?" he said after a moment, with a shake of his head. "Any special plans for First Day... or rather night, now?"

He sees the tension and he's ready to let her pull away, but then the moment's gone. He won't press, and the hold on her becomes very light. There are thousands of things that could bring up rough memories of the Circle.

They go a few more steps before he answers her question, giving her time to adjust and make sure she's all right like this. Then there's the duck of his head combined with a little more mischief in his eyes.

"I'd meant the dancing, but now that you ask, both. Looking over one's shoulder all the time makes it difficult to dance. Or dance well. I've no doubt that I could spin around and step on plenty of feet while keeping an eye out everywhere. It might even make an excellent show."

He pauses, looking at her, debating on saying the next thing before he speaks. "What doesn't make an excellent anything is if I overstep. If I bother you, I'll not take offense to being told so." He's no Templar. He'll not press more or worse if she protests.

He chuckles at that, definitely feeling embarrassed by it all, but not uncomfortable. "No, talking about it doesn't make me uncomfortable. I'm just surprised by how popular of a subject it seems to be. Or rather I'm finding out that I have 'looks', like you mentioned before, which are apparently more apparent since Krem isn't here. It's... new."

It is only a moment. Something she still works through, something that is more difficult when she is sober and frustrated- something she does not enjoy having to explain. She shouldn't have to explain it because it should not be an issue. Contact is contact and there'd been a time not long ago when she'd been almost obnoxiously tactile.

But the moment passes and Detlef? Reminds kind. Does not ask.

The mischief earns him a faint smirk. "Clearly you were never trained by an Orlesian. If you cannot avoid both your partner's toes and that of everyone in the room without looking? You have not learned properly. I learned to dance blindfolded so as to not be distracted." Which had been distracting in and of itself, to be perfectly honest.

"...Detlef- it." She dips her head, faintly, not looking him in the eye. "It is not you. You have not overstepped. It's ghosts. Echos. Things I am trying to put to rest."

A glint of armor, a vice around her throat- but no. Not here. Not now. "You have not bothered me."

"To be honest, I don't know. All the smells are mingling together. Certainly looks more appetizing then what's on this side though." Garris raises a brow as he watches her shove a number of things in her bag, before tilting his head. "Are the refugees not being fed?"

"Maybe not but it only takes one to ruin the party for everyone else, as you've said, right?" Even if none of them had been there the damage had already been done. Course he was always known for making exceptions if the moments presented themselves.

Surprisingly enough, though she was Qunari, she didn't feel like... a Qunari. Or at least what he had been made to believe what Qunari were like, both by word and experience. Guess that was wrong. "Garris."

"I've not known a great many Orleasians. But now that I've met one I might let blindfold me, perhaps I could learn. Dancing's something I enjoy, despite the lack of opportunities." While his voice is innocent as the driven snow, as if he's only talking about blindfolds for dancing lessons, his eyes are sparkling a fair amount by now.

There's a part of him, that, despite the teasing, doesn't want to push this too fast or too hard. He knows what he is, and if she was fully informed there's a fair chance she'd have avoided him this whole time, rather than spending time with him. It tempers his flirting, keeps it far below the levels he'd ever gone to with Isabela or Nathaniel, Hawke or Velanna. He only hurts people, in the end, and he can tell by her words on the other topic that she's been hurt already.

"I understand, and I'll say no more on it," he promises. He has his own ghosts from his time in the Circle. Many do. And yet they're supposed to suddenly be model citizens and show people that they're fine and healthy and prove they're people. Their lot is still not right, still not just. One day, maybe, it will be. It's the reason he's still here.

"Sure thing. Go have some fun. Can't keep the kids waiting." He motions for Sideswipe to go ahead, all too familiar with kids wanting you to play with them.

"I- you. You-" Words. She has them, somewhere, and once her mind winds back away from blindfolds and what they can be used with aside from dancing she'll be able to form them. She hasn't been flustered this often or this comfortably since-

Since Robert.

Distance has taken that particular ache away- the wine and the warmth and the dancing does the rest. At the moment she isn't a councilor, a healer, a teacher, or even a mage. She is simply Adelaide and simply pleased. She slips a hand from his to whap (lightly) at his shoulder for his audacity, head ducked to hide her blush and her laughter. "Keep doing that on purpose. Keep teasing me and one day, De-De, I will call your bluff. What will you do then, mm? When you get more than a blush and a smile?"

Another turn and she takes that half step closer, dancing against him as much as with him- and true to her earlier words she doesn't step on his toes nor trip into anyone else despite the closeness. "You make it easier. Every day they become less and less."

"Best keep a few healers on the side as well," he agrees, not stopping the grin that's spreading over his face. This was obviously something that wouldn't happen for some time, but he would certainly like to see this happen.

"We'll have to make sure there is one for the kids as well. Can't leave them out, but it would be a bit dangerous for them to join in a big battle."

"Then I'll be happy to show you how it's done. With the height difference, it'll be all the more interesting."

Gently, he squeezes her hand before he places his other to her waist so that they're pressed close.

"Now, then. Ready to follow my lead?"

Sam shakes his head at that, looking away as he took another drink, his lips lingering at the rim even after he had done so.

"No. No special plans. Just enjoy my drink and the fire before heading to bed."

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OPEN: this will be a better year

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