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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Gently, his arm tightens around her back, indicating an intention to carefully dip her, which he knows he can really only do with her cooperation.

"Anger, confusion, fear; newcomers were concerned about the possibilities of abominations here. Then of course there was the paranoid town hall meeting, everyone having something to say, even talks of required templar company and required Harrowings. We don't really have a good reputation right now."

Fate snorts faintly. "Honestly, I feel like the Inquisition is too divided. I don't know what its longevity is going to look like at this rate."

"Rumors are a distraction from the darker aspects of something. We've a war going on, and Corypheus prowling about, dragons threatening all sorts of areas again, and so on. People need gossip. Even the most absurd pieces." In the Circle there'd been little to do for entertainment other than gossip or sneaking off for sex, and getting laid and getting caught would mean punishment. Gossip was safe. If people want to talk about him and Adelaide it won't be an issue. In fact, it might be good to have 'Detlef' associated with something mundane like dancing and flirting, and that thought fills him with shame. He's not using her. But thinking like that... Somehow, spirits are a far safer topic.

"I used to work with Compassion. I enjoyed that, actually. Justice is..." He huffs, half-laughing, half-looking for a good description. "Justice is driven. Focused. There's not a lot of room for anything other than healing when he's involved with the process." There are times he misses Compassion's touch. It had always been warm. Justice is cold.

"He's not a poor option; he's certainly very powerful. But by his very nature he's not flexible."

"Justice is meant for the Fade. For all that it is a concept created and perpetuated by men there are...shades of nuance that are difficult for a spirit to grasp on this side of the veil. In the Fade it is simpler. What is Just is Just, what is Unjust is Unjust. Their determination, their focus? That would suit better a Battle Mage than a Healer I would think. There is more room for them to act in the full of their purpose." Most of her experience with said spirits came from Fade Dreams and meditations- working with one there was...it made more sense. Attempting to call upon one to heal? It never occurred to any of her mentors- something with a lack of patience, they had said. She had never though to look deeper into it, focusing more on that which she had.

It is a bit intellectual for drunken bonfire chats- and all the same? She finds herself charmed. Detlef is someone that understands what she means when describing such things. It is a commonality she shares with no one else in Skyhold.

"How did you come to be partnered with him? A Spirit of Justice would require trials to prove your intent rather than a contract or charming intellectual discourse." That she can say so without stumbling means she needed to talk less and drink more. Adelaide does so, idly humming along with the music under her breath- but rather than it being the music of the lute player it is the older, stranger song she hears in spirits. Specifically? Justice.

"I am Antivan. I am not meant for the cold." He sniffs, shuffling into Sam's space and butting his head into his shoulder rather than retaliating. At least Sam is warm. "...also I oiled my hair the other day and now I must do so again."

"It's huge. Way huge. I mean, I lived there and didn't even see half of it."

Partly because he didn't want to get into more trouble, and partly because even poking your head into the Alienage sometimes was more problems than he could handle.

He perks up and... seems to deflate a little, at the word "Circle". One hand rubs at the back of his neck -- repeatedly. Little awkward motions. "Oh uh... That means you're a mage right?"

But there's no accusation or disgust in the question. Almost like he feels bad for asking.

"Taashath. It's a pleasure." She ducked her head again, a smile warm on her face. He was polite, something that she wasn't expecting. Well, it figured. Everything she'd heard about qunari had been from humans, and if she'd learned anything about humans, it was that they were usually completely wrong. About everything.

Ever.

"Ah, that would be Merrick. He's one of our best. As is Pel. And, um--Cyril." She pauses at this, not out of any spite for Cyril, but to cast a suspicious glance at Taas, because she can't help but suspect just how a muscular qunari might know him. "But yes, I would like to think so. Or hope so, at least. I'm glad that I have other clanmates here. I couldn't imagine being here alone." Like hell you could drag her from her clan alone to wade into a group of religious shemlen.

"The last time we had a big party--the funeral, I think it was, people were getting--Well. Riled up. I left early, I know a bad place to stick around. But the only fighting I've seen here have been a pretty wicked snowball war with the other scouts." She jerks her head off to the scouts in question. "Maybe it's just too cold for tempers to get heated." Hah! She flashes a smile at her completely hilarious joke.

"Aneth ara," Beleth replies back, peeking around the vines to look at her. "I'm glad to hear it. Maybe it's because of, um. This." She gestures to the plants, taking a moment to prod one of the vines a little. As this had as much of an affect as her blank stares did, she stops, pulling back. "Those are plants. In the door." She informs Sina, just in case the other was, perhaps, pondering this vast mystery as much as she was.

"You know, I don't think plants would make very good doors," She paused as she thought this over, and gave a firm nod. "It's all the holes. It'd let wind in. And you have to water them. Or they would just...you know." She wiggled her fingers, miming what could be confetti falling down, but probably was supposed to be some kind of show of leaves wilting and dying. "It'd be super ugly, dying plants lying around Skyhold. I mean, it looks nice right now, though."

The idea that this isn't a door, and indeed, if it was, it would be a very poor door, as it didn't allow her to the other side, apparently hasn't quite occurred to her.

Luckily for everyone involved, Beleth doesn't cry. She looks mollified by his words--or at least, the way that he looked like he definitely wasn't going to be yelling at her or anything. His anger has subsided into...feeling bad, which was a step up. She gives him a thin smile, looking a little more at ease, though still a bit nervous.

"Okay. I'm glad. Um--I'm Beleth Ashara. It's nice to meet you--Or, um. Bump into you. I guess." The nervous little smile grew a little bit. Haha, Creators, she was hilarious.

That intention to dip catches her by surprise, as she wasn't going to request that of him. It's rare when she does, unless it's a partner of greater or equal size. But as long as he's sure, she'll give it a go, careful not to send them both tumbling.

The news is expected, though not encouraging, and Korrin sighs. "You have a point; what peace we have is very fragile. And if they try to enforce Templars or Harrowings on us, it will evaporate. I'm not dealing with that shit." Her lips are set in a thin line, determined to let every Templar in Skyhold know that if she must.

Then her expression grows remorseful. "This isn't a fitting topic for a celebration, is it? Sorry. I won't be the one to bring the mood down. We get moments like these too seldom."

Maria offers a quick salute. While legends may be filled with eloquent speeches and grand statements before a battle, in her experience there's usually very little time for words. See an opportunity, take it. And so she charges forth, trusting the mage to hold up her end of the battle plan.

"Commerce! Bringing goods to people that need them so they can reach their optimum productivity. Yet after seeing the heroes of the Inquisition in action, I must admit I am compelled to do more. Which brings up the missions, as you put it."

If anything, he was becoming more enthusiastic about the prospect of both being a merchant and helping the Inquisition. Any hesitation on her part isn't noticed. People must be forgiven their eccentricities, after all.

The part about oiling his hair and having to do it again has Sam laughing, though he tries his best to keep it under control considering how miserable Zevran was looking. Shaking his head a bit in amused disbelief, he easily wraps an arm over the Elf's shoulders to help warm him up better. "It was only a little snow, I don't think you have to do it all over again. And if you hate the cold so much why are you out here throwing snowballs at everyone?"

He looks curious at that, going over her lip movements in his head before fully figuring it out. It was a bit hard to do so many things at once, so the rhythm of their dance had to make way for reading words.

"You have met them? I figured they had to be some impressive people to make such a kind kid. Gorse's the most unusual Vashoth I've ever seen." He means it, too. It's like Korrin said - it was weird to think of a Vashoth or Tal-Vashoth that wasn't a mercenary or soldier. Brutal, dangerous. Gorse and Korrin herself made him believe less and less in the Qun's ideals, and it was both liberating and a little bit frightening.

Tal-Vasoth didn't go mad and made great kids. Saarebas didn't need arvaraad.

A deaf warrior could still fight.

The suspicious glance when she mentions Cyril makes the warrior briefly hold up his hands disarmingly. That hot elf is a really good lay, okay? The fact that he'd done Pel as well would be left unsaid.

Taas' face crinkles into a smile and laughs at the little joke, appreciating a bit of humor. "The funeral had a lot of people with a lot of emotions that needed an outlet. Sometimes that mean trouble. This time, it's calmer. Still a little stiff, but trying to save the world has that effect on people."

Apparently last time they celebrated, they had an unwelcome visitor. Maybe people were still remembering that.

Not so different, really. But add the horns to the mix and things got a bit weird. Not so easy to read bodily signs on grey skin, either. Taas shrugs a bit again and then smiles once more.

"Glad to hear nobody's been needing care, though. Do you do anything other than healing?" Mages and their... strange mage ways. "Missions and the like?"

The large warrior leans his head back and smiles at those words. She put the feeling down in a really good way, and he had to agree with it. An air of change. Hopefully for the better.

"I'm Taashath," he says with a little flick of his fingers in a mock salute. "Definitely here for the 'bettering' parts... and the food."

"Ah, the troubles of a hero. I wonder if the Champion of Kirkwall ever got to read the book before it was published." He smiles again, knowing full well that if there was ever any positive mention of him in any history books, it would probably not include the fact that he was qunari.

Listening to Alayre, he then shrugs at the mention of the combat readiness. "I don't think I agree with you there. These soldiers are doing damn well, and saving the world is a really good motivator for working together as one. We could take on an average army by now. Maybe even win." They'd take losses, but they had an impressive team of scouts, soldiers, templars and mages. What other army could say the sported that kind of variety?

"...fuck yes. I'd love to take you on again." He adds, beaming.

"Maybe the masks make it different; in Ebeos they are taught to mimic perfectly, so well that you would never even know. They learn the language, the fashions, the very soul of a place and because they've always worn a mask before?" She can leave it at that when there's Orlais - you just don't know who they might have been though of course, such training limits themm to only those with the funds to hire them.

"Our brothels are where the passions are, much of it is considered holy so death and brothels are never to mix." From the look on her face, even the thought is upsetting, though death and brothels always comes with her mother's face, a ridiculous and irrational fear but such is the mind.

"Well I didn't mean to stump you," she says with a short laugh. "But I'm the same way. Anything that's just for me is good." Who doesn't like to feel special, or like they're held just a little bit higher than others?

And maybe she was asking so she could tell Krem what he said. Oh, well. At least this leaves room for plenty of possibilities.

"Maybe giving you precious metals so you could craft something would be a good gift." Her head tilts in thought. "Do you ever design anything just for yourself? I mean, not a weapon or armor. Something crafted out of metal just because you wanted to see if you could make it."

"She was from here in the first place!" Kas retorts, but then shakes his head. "I'm just... trying to understand it."

That suspicious look is immediately met with anger, though, and he's quick to scowl again and try to look big and intimidating. While he's... well, big compared to Sam, he's still far too scrawny to even be slightly scary.

Yet, just as quickly, those words make the huff and puff go out of him and he bites his lip instead. They hadn't mentioned him? Well... of course they hadn't. They didn't go around telling everyone about people they knew.

"Well... you could ask."

All his defenses were up again and he's still scowling like an ass while she eats. So desperate to prove himself, the teen wasn't exactly good with having his age and maturity questioned. Which, incidentally, was a complete proof of that he wasn't that mature to begin with.

This was a trainwreck. It would probably have gone better if Korrin could have mediated.

Still, that diplomatic reply does smooth his hackles down a bit, and while still frowning, it's not as bad as before. "I'm just as good as everyone else around here, no matter how old I am. Just remember that."

He breathes a sigh or relief when she doesn't start sobbing into his stew, and then gives her a closer look. Elves were good, he'd run with a lot of elves... but dalish elves were new. The tattoos kind of reminded him of vitaar.

"I'm Kas," he starts, a little awkwardly. "Nice to meet you?"

Nailed it.

Kas cheers loudly as they whoosh down the snow, laughing at Korrin's outburst. What is a good responsible influence, anyway? He'd much rather have someone awesome as a role model.

Then they hit a bump and he almost falls off the shield with a shout of surprise. That movement takes them a bit off-kilter, and soon the shield flips over and they're face down in the powdery fluff.

The teen is laughing so hard that he almost chokes on the snow.

He loves the sound of somewhere huge. Somewhere to get lost in. Maybe disappear.

He notices Sideswipe's reaction and he tries not to let it bother him. After all, there was nothing mean-spirited in the question. He forces a bigger smile. "Well, I'm not a Templar, that's for certain."

"True enough. I'm under the impression he controls the Red Templars to a degree, so one must wonder the connection of red lyrium, the Archdemon, and the Blight. If there's an answer, I don't have it." Not that he's terribly inclined to research it himself, but it has been some passing thoughts of his. He's not a mage who desires much knowledge in regard to these matters; best to leave it to someone else who is passionate about it. "Such is the way of it; religion is often utilized to excuse actions, not usually because it truly guides a person."

The honesty from Morrigan makes him pause, and soften somewhat. Twisted Fate folds his fingers together and glances away for a moment in thought before he responds, "The choices we make for children can either be better than those who tried to raise us, or we can continue their poor choices. If you're doing the former, then I think he's likely in good hands, if you don't mind my saying."

He doesn't know much of anything about Flemeth beyond rumors and tales; he couldn't say for certain, but he's gotten nothing but impressions that Morrigan truly cares for her son. That's enough to satisfy any potential concerns or thoughts.

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OPEN: this will be a better year

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