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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He certainly seems to be trying to drag his heels, doesn't he?

Mia isn't certain that she's in the mood for quite this much energy. Watching the others cavort simply makes her feel that much older, more removed. There might have been a time, but it belongs more to them now than her. So a quiet corner of the party suits her far better.

She approaches quietly, one eyebrow arched at the sour look on the templar's face. "At ease. I come in peace," she murmurs, before taking up a section of wall not too far from him, but enough to give him his space if he cares for it.

He is doing his damnedest. It doesn't seem to be working.

He managed to find himself a wall where he couldn't be pinched in inappropriate places by drunken nobles. He has his arms folded across his chest, openly scowling, a scowl he turns on the woman who comes up to next to him.

A scowl, that becomes sheepish. "... My apologies, my Lady. I am ... simply trying to keep my personal boundaries personal."

"Oh. Gotten handsy, have they?" she observes with an arched brow. "If you need your honor defended, ser, I could help keep watch for the villains."

Is that humor? Perhaps. She's let herself be burdened for long enough. Parties are occasions to let go of such things, meet new people, let your hair down...

Well. Metaphorically speaking.

"My lady, I won't say what they've been ... but let's just stay with handsy." He stated dryly, before he quirked an eyebrow at her. Then with a completely straight face he stated, "How do I know you are not a spy, sent to get my guard down?"

Metaphorically speaking, he is willing to let his own hair down. If for only a little bit of the dry humor he enjoys.

"Do I look the part of a spy?" Her lips curved, amused. "I should think I'd be trying harder to get closer to you, were that the case. I'll even keep my hands where you can see them, lest your virtue seem threatened."

Luckily dry humor is about the only humor Mia knows how to work with.

"No, rather, you look the part of 'sensible person who doesn't like this sort of nonsense'. For that, I applaud you." He smirked faintly, as he put his hand to his chest, "My maidenly virtue thanks you, for whaever is left of it."

Then she has come to the right place.

Mia made a thoughtful noise of acknowledgement, tipping her head slightly in question. "Is that meant to imply sensible people don't enjoy parties, or just me?"

It was half-curiosity, half-amusement, that gleam in her eye. He seemed a fairly sensible sort himself, but a little too put out for whatever reason. Yet he'd come, all the same. Some part of him must not have wanted to be left out entirely.

That, or he had incredibly persuasive friends.

He has undeniably persuasive friends, who wanted him to meet a nice woman, settle down, and have stern looking little green eyed children. They all but lifted him out of where he had been hiding and carried him to the party.

So to answer Mia's question. "No, I consider myself sensible and I dislike parties, so you are not alone. It is ... fine, but honestly I find more enjoyment in a quiet glass of wine and a book."

He smirked again, "Absolutely dull, I know. However, here I am. I do not mind the fun, I am just bad at it."

"There's nothing wrong with enjoying those things." Indeed, she enjoyed them just as much, amongst many other, quieter hobbies that the more...enthusiastic among them might find dull as well.

"However, it does make it dreadfully difficult to find someone who shares those interests."

"Absolutely not -- and not only that, it makes it hard to make small talk at parties." He looks over at her, his expression twisting into a wry smile. "Have I mentioned I am rubbish at small talk? Way too much effort for too little value."

"I don't know. You were doing alright there for a moment."

Some might read the 'too little value' thing wrong, but she knows what he meant, and she's trying to be charitable. Poor man looks as though he's been having a time of it already tonight.

"The bright side is you don't have to try any with me. And so long as you appear to be occupied, you might be spared having someone else trying to instigate any."

"Oh, that is because I am being sarcastic. Sarcasm fits in any situation."

Oh, he has, Mia. He's a bloody Knight Commander, so people are either trying to see if they can use him as a political tool or use him for some other kind of need. He's no one's hammer, not any more.

"Bless you, my Lady. Your kindness will not be forgotten. If you ever need an abomination slain, I shall be at your beck and call."

"Let us pray that is not the case any time soon. One was quite enough."

She shudders faintly, her arms lifting to wind about herself as she leans into the wall, eyes playing along the edges of the party and the light from the fires. It's cheery enough, but she feels a little too tired for any of it.

"So I have heard, and I would not truly wish another one." He said, with a touch more seriousness.

He looks over to her, frowning faintly, "My apologies, my Lady. I did not mean to upset you."

"You didn't," she assures him quickly with a dismissive wave of her hand. "If I wished to avoid a conversation regarding abominations, demons, or mages, I daresay I could have found someone to speak to that wasn't a templar."

The corner of her lips curve upward.

"...Well, unfortunately, that is something of our wheelhouse." Norrington smirked a little, before he looked out to the part once more, the smirk still there.

"So what do you do here, my Lady? Besides be sensible."

"I see to the common folk. The refugees, the merchants, anyone who isn't already part of some larger branch of the Inquisition. Someone needs to look out for them while the rest of the machine wheels on, well-oiled. Beds, food, general needs, things of that nature. And then whatever else I can get my hands on with whatever free time is left."

She chuckles briefly. "Admittedly there isn't much. But I'm happier for it. Never could stand sitting idle."

Norrington looks impressed at that, and why not? That is hard work, and no mistake of that. He nods his head once, "Then you truly do the Maker's work, and I am glad you enjoy it as well. One should always enjoy one's path - one way or another."

"I'm certain my brother wishes I minded my own business more often, but occasionally my propensity to want to care for others does some good," she replies wryly, her smile curling wider.

"I have some experience in it, and it allows those who would otherwise have to deal with the more mundane issues to serve the Inquisition to some higher purpose. More importantly, those poor people displaced by all this chaos know that someone is looking out for them."

"Well, I am sure your brother is only concerned keeping you out of trouble. That is typically what brothers do." He smirked again. "I know that is what I do with mine.

He nodded his head slowly, "Well, we are not currently set to any missions, my Lady, but if you require our assistance -- I am Knight Commander Norrington, and I am at your disposal."

"A pleasure, Knight-Commander." She inclined her head respectfully, dropping her weight on her knee in a faint bow. She'd been raised with manners, after all. "Mia Rutherford, and I am similarly at your service."

And the realization of who her brother is should click, any moment now. She only had to wait patiently for it to occur, it seems.

Norrington's a smart man. The moment the name rolls off her tongue, is when his eyebrows lift with surprise. "Well, now I do understand why your brother wouldn't want you to be in danger. Commander Rutherford is well acquainted with all of them."

"Most of all the danger he faces if he tries to protect me," Mia replied dryly. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. As the elder sibling, I believe I'm meant to look after him."

One corner of Norrington's mouth lifted up at that, "I don't doubt it, my Lady Rutherford. You seem the sort to put both hands in, if someone trifled with your brother."

"Would you not, if something threatened those you felt responsible for, Ser Norrington? I should think it not so different, that sense of duty."

With a faint scoffing sound her gaze trailed back to the party-goers. "Of course he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. There are those here without such a sense of protection. Someone should see to them."

Courtyard

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