OPEN: this will be a better year

[faderifting]

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!

Comments

[samahl]

"Where do you sleep?" Cyril asked, because he realized he also wasn't sure where Sam stayed. It was probably a good sign that he hadn't figured that out.

[samahl]

Cyril doesn't seem to think it's too personal, but that probably says more about him than anything. "Mine are for Mythal. She is the mother goddess. She represents protection, love, and justice. You can tell they belong to her because they are reminiscent of a tree's branches. Some have lines that go down towards their chin that look like roots."

[qunari]

The Samwise Gamgee, huh? Don't think I've met one of those before.

[ A lot seems to get this guy off his guard. It's not exactly hard to do, and Bull knows he can intimidate even when he's trying to come off friendly. But now he feels sort of bad for the little guy.

One eyebrow crooks. ]

You're one of those folks came through the Rift, aren't you?

[kallian_endris]

"My mother is from Orlais. She always used to talk about bringing me back with her there and finding employment in a noble house one day," she explains.

She blushes and looks at her feet.
"Really... You're very kind, but it's fine. I don't need anyone to fuss over me. I mean, the help is supposed to go last, after the guests have had what they want."

[harthad_uluithiad]

"Spewing demons?" Sam looks horrified, looking askance at his hand. "Of course not! Why? Has - has anyone else had demons coming out of their hand?" The thought is an awful one, one that hadn't occurred to him among all the other awful things he'd had to confront since arriving here. But suddenly it seems more than likely, and he stretches his arm out as far as he can, staring at his palm as if something terrible is about to spring out.

[kallian_endris]

"You're lucky, then," she sighed. "It's not unlike crop-blight, but instead of just plants, it destroys everything. There are places to the north where Blights have struck, hundreds of years ago, and things still don't grow there, I'm told. It came close to where I lived. We were very lucky, really, that the Wardens stepped in. Only they can fight the creatures of the Blight, the darkspawn and the archdemons. And just two stopped it in only a year! It's amazing, really. Unheard of. There have been five all together so far. The last one was about twelve years ago. That was the year I lost my mother to slavers. That was the last time I really celebrated much of anything."

[middle_of_calibrating]

He had been hoping for a bit more confident response to that, but judging by Sam's previous reactions, Garris probably should have seen this coming. Guess that meant not asking if holding his hand up to his ear meant he could hears the whispers of the Fade.

"Hey! Easy there... no one mentioned demons coming out of your hands- Probably just... bad choice of words to use on something that... delicate. Apologies." Note to self, don't use that kind of humor with the small guy.

[el_tybs]

"Somehow I had figured you'd already know that." There's a smirk there as he peers down at Cyril, obviously joking. The Elf just seemed like he knew where he was all the time.

"I sleep in the armory."

[arlathvhen]

Beleth settled down on one of the benches a few people had hauled out to the field, letting Kas eat. He certainly seemed to need it, and she doesn't speak until he says something to her. "Oh--Well, yes. Haven't you ever watched dancing?" She gestured over to some of the people dancing.

"It's not like Dalish dances. Those are the most beautiful, in my opinion. They're not more complicated, necessarily, but they're more...graceful. Fluid. A Dalish dance is more like...water flowing. We move together, not doing the exact same thing, but we all fit together." Kas probably does not care about Dalish dancing, but Beleth's voice is wistful, clearly longing. As she speaks, her hands move, graceful as her words, as she tries to use them to demonstrate some of the dancing she's rambling about. "It's like being a piece in a puzzle."

[arlathvhen]

His suggestion of standing on his feet is met with amused laughter, though her hand goes over her mouth as she tries to stop--Though it's still obvious she's laughing, with the way that her shoulders shake. Finally, she ducks her head again, but luckily puts her hand down and turns up to look at him before she continues to speak.

"I'd be honored, though I think I'll pass on trodding on your feet more than necessary." She did her best at giving him a curtsy, and accepted his hand. Creators, his hand enveloped her. She'd gotten used to being dwarfed by most of the people around her, but Taas managed to take it to a different level.

"Let me know if I'm doing too badly, alright?"

[foxsays]

"And your mages have had no uprisings then?" What she has heard of Tevinter outside of books that look old even to an outsider with their cracked bindings and thin pages would fill a thimble. Better to confirm it and make certain of just how different it must be from where she finds herself now, a place where freedom comes at such a premium.

Of course all this means seeking out some loyalists, she's too good at her job to not have as full a picture as possible. But a change of subject is welcome, especially when it's Korrin.

"According to her she was never Qunari, not when it means their religion." That's all she'll say on the matter when it's Korrin's business though she never made much of a secret of it; Araceli wanted to get the terms right from the start so as not to offend, so lapsed doesn't sound quite right to her. "A long joke, we have the same sort." That's familiar enough too, though there is always a pirate or a whore, usually both and a merchant, and the pirate and whore are the ones who come out the winner because the merchant is a greedy man, the kind that never prosper.

In this case, the pirate is also the priest, at least when it's a Castilean telling the joke, because that much must always be assumed.

"The way you speak about the Maker is far less dour than here in the south, I much prefer your idea of sinning." Others might not but lives are to be lived with passion. Giving a roll of her eyes in return, she takes a drink before she replies. "There are few who speak so kindly and openly to us rifters of our homes without saying that it must be very strange for us here, and given people seem to have a certain belief about Antivans, the 'compliments' I receive in passing in the tavern are less than flattering."

[fleurdesel]

"Of course not." She snorted a faint laugh. "But the dancing was novel and more than enough to keep me warm. I even managed to drag one of the younger templars into it."

A king young man that had been kind to her. Almost friendly, even. "When I've the time and we've another such song on the reeds- I'll make certain to send for you. I do not think there are many in Skyhold that can keep up."

[fleurdesel]

"She was nonspecific." And she hadn't quite asked. Morrigan will approach her should she desire her knowledge and skills. Honestly it is something of a relief to not need to worry about what would and what wouldn't be considered proper by his mother.

"They are not all ducklings." More like puppies on occasion, attentive and excitable. Whereas working with the adult mages in Skyhold felt far too much like attempting to wrangle cats. "Unless you count yourself among their number, then yes. I've enough ducklings."

[sistertohermen]

The outburst only serves to get more on her nerves, and she doesn't want to stop and figure out why. It's just--irritating and making a scene and just the way the world works! It's awful, but he needn't be a crybaby over it. He can't seem to keep things at a rational level, and that just...whatever!

"Not unless someone changes it. Not unless a big group of people decide it needs changed." It's hissed through clenched teeth, which is at least better than yelling. "Where are you even from to only stop being blind as of now?"

Maybe that's a question she should've asked beforehand. It occurs to her that maybe there are the ones they call Rifters here, though she doesn't think she's met one. One can't even tell by the shard in their hands, as there are, like the Herald was, people here who simply have them as well. Is that why it's all so strange and apparently overwhelming?

[sistertohermen]

"Roots to ground, arms up to support, shade to protect." See, she can do metaphor, too. "Motherly." Not in her experience, but generally. "The lines are so fine and delicate. Very much like an elf." Whereas hers are thick, bold, squares and angles, structured. Very much like a dwarf. "It must take a skilled hand. It's pretty," she determines with a small smile.

[sistertohermen]

...Huh. Maybe it's a pride thing, but that doesn't sound so bad. Compared to rotting in a prison or being executed. "I am worth less than a traitor, but that's just how many view casteless." A fact of life. One slowly...slowly starting to change, but not fast enough for her tastes.

She holds up her ale. "To not going back."

[el_tybs]

"Thanks... James." He is happy, course it would've been nicer actually having said boyfriend here. Well... maybe not at this moment. He could have only imagined how that would've turned out if Krem had seen the lot of them swarm him.

"I don't think he would want to be called cute, but he can be. And no, he's an only child."

[justice_is_blond]

"Duckling. Personally, I believe I'm far more of a handsome, distinguished, drake. But if you've had enough to drink that I look like a duckling, maybe we should be getting you back to the room." He's amused, arm wrapping a little more around her to hold her close for the briefest moment before he lets go and offers an arm in case she needs support.

"Or I may slip away. It's... been far more of a party than I'm used to." And it's true. The party's fun, but it's also a source of stress. There are several people here he needs to steer clear of, he's worried about Justice among so many people, and he's had a pleasant time that he doesn't want to get soured. She can join or not, but he's ready to call it a night.

[fleurdesel]

"Ducklings are spared the cooking fire, Drakes are not." Though she certainly would call him rakish after a fashion. A charming rake that she doesn't mind leaning a little closer to for a moment, her ghosts otherwise quiet for the evening. It's been a good night for them, the reflexive twitching away not an issue for the night. He offers his arm and she snorts a soft laugh. But the support and guidance isn't so awful a thing. It is slippery, she is tipsy.

"No, you are right. I think returning to the room for the night is the wisest course." All the better to spare him the walk alone- and to see herself returned safely. "Lead on, Detlef."

[dragoon_pride]

"Practical is usually more effective, when it comes down to it." Of course, he can't talk since his skills are rather flashy by their very nature. But they're not just for show, as exciting as they look.

It's helpful to learn more about all of this, the Templars have such a huge presence in this world after all. "And... what is your true purpose? You say you keep order... but there seems to be more to it than that." Especially if they're tied to some mighty religion and everything. Mages seem to hold one view, he's seen that, but what do the templars actually think on their side?

[judgemewhole]

"You're welcome -- and we will no longer be calling him 'cute'." Yes that is Norrington's quelling look, all around. "What is his name, where is he from?"

[judgemewhole]

"I could not agree more - but then again - I do not own a magical blade." Norrington stated with a faint smile.

He frowns at that statement, before he sighed, "I will be honest with you - I am not sure anymore. The Chantry wishes us to do one thing, the Lord Seeker another and all I can think is -- this is what you wish us to do? This is not the will of the Maker or Andraste. It cannot be. So my people and I, we look for the old ways, to forge a new one forward."

[el_tybs]

Honestly not calling Krem 'cute' was more for their benefit really.

Course it figures that James had been the one to tell them to lay off asking too many questions and here he was asking more now that he heard some answers. Smiling slightly at that behind his mug, Sam takes a few drinks before saying more. "Cremisius Aclassi, and he's from Trevinter."

[el_tybs]

"And what about now? Do you still want to go live there?"

At the mention of guests, Sam raises his brows and looks out to the crowd before looking back to Kallian. "The Inquisition's 'guests' have their own tables of fine food and drink. Everyone else has what's over here, which you are more than welcome to. And I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

There's a small smile on his face as he sets his mug down before standing up. "Now I'll assume you'll be here because you have that guy to watch, and I'm leaving you in charge of no one stealing my drink." That being said, Sam heads out into the crowd before she can get another word in.

[judgemewhole]

Well, Norrington wasn't looking for prying information. He just wanted to know who the young man was so they could keep an eye out for him. And an ear to the ground, as necessary. The Tevinter part got an eyebrow, but there were plenty of people from that country who were not Magisters, so no need to judge unnecessarily.

"We look forward to meeting him."