faderift | 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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The years all merged into one. Fenris didn't really care which year it was - all he knew was that it was another further on. Another one free.

He shuddered - he couldn't help himself. He doubted many people knew just what his tattoos were made of - there were only a handful who knew of his abilities, as he'd even fought without them as much as possible in the Approach, but if it ever got out - he was sure he would be the subject of much discussing, and experimentation. He wouldn't stand for it. "Because what Thedas needs is more abominations," he said wryly. "Obviously we don't have enough."

Sherlock had not inquired about the tattoos. He knew Fenris was from Tevinter, he knew the lot of elves in Tevinter was even worse than elsewhere, and the degree to which the inked outlines had faded indicated the approximate amount of years it had been since he'd received the tattoos. As for what was inside those outlines... he could only go so far as conjecture. Magisters almost did nothing that did not involve magic, and almost nothing that involved magic did not involve lyrium.

Unless it was blood magic. Which it well might have been, and which was well outside his scope of knowledge. In any case, of the purpose and use of the markings, he had no idea.

"At least these ones won't be springing up from under our roof."

It had been easy to pick up on the elf's mistrust of magic from their early conversations. Sherlock was fine enough working with mages -- their abilities had uses, after all -- but it was also refreshing to find someone who shared his reservations.

Mistrust of magic was easy after spending eight years living in Kirkwall, let alone after most of his young life in Tevinter. What was most surprising is someone else who had a healthy mistrust of magic here in the Inquisition. Oh it was obvious that the likes of Commander Cullen distrusted it to a point, but most people seemed to be falling over themselves to work with the mages, not bearing in mind what they are capable of.

He snorted at Sherlock's comment. "We can but hope," he said. "And be on our guard just in case. I am not so convinced as others that everything is under control." At least now it would appear that the Templars had some degree of interest in things here.

"Of course it isn't." Considering what they were up against and the circumstances they were otherwise facing, Sherlock had been taking that as a given. "Skyhold has become the latest cesspool into which the flotsam of Thedas is inevitably drained."

Which didn't mean their cause was unworthy. But it was best to keep the right perspective about things.

In between making decisions about his cards, Sherlock took another sip of Deathroot tea. His eyes also flicked to those markings again, although he wasn't truly thinking about them. He was considering some not-dissimilar tattoos he had seen on one of the miners — the one who'd insisted on following him from the cage.

"Red and blue..." he murmured, turning over the idea in his mind. The next statement was addressed to Fenris: "You must know something about experimentation with lyrium. Manipulating the substance itself." At the very least, he had to know something about the lengths people might go to in those experiments.

"Well, it makes a change from Kirkwall. And hopefully things will be more controlled here." He could hope, anyway. He might be pleasantly surprised, but he doubted it.

Fenris froze at his question, then reacted in an entirely Fenris-like fashion. "Why would you want to know about that?" he spat out, staring at Sherlock. "No good ever comes out of experimenting with lyrium."

The fact that he calmed down a little almost immediately showed that he actually liked Sherlock - as much as he was capable of, anyway. He'd matured a little in the years since he'd first escaped from Danarius. "As you might have guessed, yes, I do."

Suspicions confirmed. Inside, Sherlock was doing a little victory lap — he'd been somewhat starved of opportunities to show off lately — but his expression remained impassive.

"Of course you do. Magisters rarely do anything that doesn't involve the stuff." As if he'd already known for certain. "And I only wish to know enough to confirm a theory. Red lyrium, and the standard blue variety: what sort of effect would they have if mixed together?"

"I wouldn't know, but I can't imagine it would be a good one." He may not truly care if he got killed or not, but he had no wish to die in the way the Red Templars were, so he was doing his utmost to avoid the red lyrium. But he truly thought about it for a moment. "If a Magister has run across red lyrium, you can guarantee that they will have attempted some experiment to see if they can use it at all. Ask the Tevene here."

OPEN: this will be a better year

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