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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That sounded to Maxwell like someone who had been hoping for special plans and for one reason or another had them fall through on him. The way Sam looked pointedly away only added to his suspicion.

He wasn't the sort to pry, so if Sam didn't offer to talk about it, he wouldn't press him... but he could try to help, by distraction.

Work up a bright smile, he said, "...In that case, I don't feel so terrible about bringing up shop talk. I find myself in need of time in the forge, and perhaps in need of steady, sturdy hands to help. Know anybody who might be willing to assist?"

Honestly there were no special plans to begin with, but for him, actually spending time cozing up by a fire and just enjoying not doing anything would have been enough.

If Maxwell had pressed it wouldn't have been an issue, but the change of subject is welcomed. At the offer Sam gives a huff, turning his head back towards his friend with a grin. "Exactly what are you trying to do that requires my help?"

"I have--" he shifted his cup to his other hand and reached to his belt to free the little sketchbook he had tied there, "--a project, that I'm working on."

He had a small quill as a placekeeper, and he worked his fingers in beside it to open the book to the correct page.

"I have the materials, but I still have yet to form the model and cast it."

He offered the book to Sam, sketches of the locket stretched across two pages - several smaller pictures from various angles with notes scratched beside them, and one large drawing to show the detail.

He is more then intrigued to receive the sketchpad, setting his mug down on the ground next to him so that he doesn't accidentally ruin it. "I take it you're going to be doing the intricate work, right?" He could do design but nothing like what Maxwell had on the page.

"Who's it for?"

"I had planned on it, yes," he grinned reassuringly. "The truth is the blue vitriol I got from the Mire isn't something I got a lot of experience with in Ostwick, and I'd hate to botch what I have."

He wasn't certain how easy it would be to replace, now, with the Inquisition turning it's attention to the Emprise.

"And it's for me," he glanced at Sam's face, wondering if he found it strange that he wanted a locket, "...but I hope to make this to go with it."

The locket was a slim oval shape, with a handsome, stylized star on the lid. When Maxwell turned the page, a second necklace appeared - the same star, as a charm.

"...That one's for Gavin."

"Well the Inquisition still has some blue vitriol left over so it shouldn't be too much of an issue if some does end up getting botched." He'd rather it didn't happen, but to know there was backups just in case.

At the mention that it's for him, Sam raises a brow at Maxwell then looks back at the sketch, moving his finger when the page is turned for him to see the other part. At hearing that one was getting made for Gavin he smiles. "Why aren't they both lockets if I might ask?"

"Well," there was no denying the flush now, warmth creeping back into his face even though the dance was long over, "the locket already has something to go in,... something he gave me. Also, my hope is if I engrave the lid correctly and mold the charm properly, they will fit together..."

He turned the page back, overlaying the two designs slightly, so Sam could hopefully see what he was going for.

"...It's silly, isn't it?"

"Not at all." It's actually a rather cute and inventive idea to have the charm fit into the locket. "We'll have to be careful on making sure the locket and charm fit together. What's the star supposed to represent?"

"He likes to travel, and I've always wanted to," Maxwell explained, a little haltingly, his cheeks darkening as he went on and having to clear his throat. "The stars are meant to guide you, I thought... we could find each other."

Maxwell and Gavin must have been quite the sight when they both blushed; Gavin's ears were the first to color and Maxwell kept getting redder - like he was one to talk. "Alright, even I will admit that is a bit corny, but completely adorable of an idea. Gavin would turn so red if you explained it like that."

Maxwell cleared his throat, fighting the wide grin, but unable to stop it. "Well, I hope he can figure it out on his own, because I'm not certain I'll ever speak again." He was going to melt into a puddle of embarrassed, but happy goo.

"What, are you just going to shove the charm into his hands and just stare at him while he tries to figure it out?" Now there was an image to think about, just the two of them blushing at each other and staring at the gift with no words.

"You're not helping!" Maxwell accused, but with a laugh. Closing the sketchbook, he gave his head a small shake and cleared his throat. "So - do you think it can be done?"

Sam laughs at the little outburst and the withdrawal of the sketchbook. "I am so helping. You're still able to talk after explaining it aren't you? Good practice." He allows himself to laugh for a little bit before clearing his throat as well.

"It'll take a lot of effort to get it right, but should be doable."

"Mortifying practice," Maxwell said, tying his sketchbook back on his belt. "And you're just Sam, I can only imagine when I try to talk to him."

Still, he was undeterred. He wanted to do it, for Gavin.

"Is there a schedule for the forge? A good time I stop by?"

Just Sam. How Maxwell says it makes Sam smirk, but say more on it. He had teased the man enough.

"There aren't any orders for the Inquisition right at the moment so the forges aren't terribly busy. I'm there every other day during the evening just to make sure I get practice in. I can be there any day though. Early evening or the evening would be best."

"That will more than do," Maxwell said with a shake of his head. "It's not imperative, it's just..."

He trailed off, smile handsomely sheepish.

It was important to him.

"I'll get what I have, and stop by soon."

Maxwell doesn't have to say it, Sam gets it well enough. Finding something for the person you liked and having it mean something. If only he could think of something like that himself.

"Take however much time you need. I'll be around. Not too hard to find."

"Thank you, Sam," Maxwell said, meaning it honestly. "And if there's ever anything I can help you with in return, just ask."

He smiled and reached out to give Sam's shoulder a clap, then he withdrew and nodded his head toward the bonfire again.

"Back to the grind, then."

"Literally or figuratively?" Sam asks, trying his best not to grin as he takes one more shot at teasing Maxwell.

"I'll be sure to ask if I think of anything. Thanks, Maxwell. Happy First Day."

He blinked a moment, then snorted a soft laugh, realizing he'd blindly walked into that one.

"I guess that remains to be seen," he replied with a flush and a small grin as he started walking back toward the dancers. "Regardless, I don't kiss and tell."

He offered Sam a wink.

"Happy First Day."

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OPEN: this will be a better year

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