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Adrasteia wakes with the dawn, and in the wintertime, a little earlier than that. This is how the morning unfolds: opening the curtains, putting on heavy robes, and making her way to the nearest unoccupied communal room to deal with wetting and detangling her hair. If there's no water available, however, she'll have to make her way down six floors and into the basement to the unheated bathing pools to bring some up.
When she starts this process there's humming. By the time she reaches the bottom of the tower, it's singing sotto-voce. Once she's climbed the stairs back to the sixth floor carrying the largest container of water she possibly can (which, well, she's strong but not even five feet tall), it's gone to full-throated singing.
Her voice isn't bad. However, one imagines that not everyone would be thrilled with being serenaded at this hour, more often in the last month than not.
When she starts this process there's humming. By the time she reaches the bottom of the tower, it's singing sotto-voce. Once she's climbed the stairs back to the sixth floor carrying the largest container of water she possibly can (which, well, she's strong but not even five feet tall), it's gone to full-throated singing.
Her voice isn't bad. However, one imagines that not everyone would be thrilled with being serenaded at this hour, more often in the last month than not.
Edited 2021-02-13 01:36 (UTC)
A Chantry Sister visiting from Antiva has insisted on being charitable and compassionate in Darktown. Make sure no one takes more than their fair share of the handouts and that the Sister returns safe and sound so she can tell the Revered Mother in Rialto about how charming Riftwatch's agents are.
There's room for at least one more helper in this quest, but either way, Andrasteia is here with the Chantry Sister, hanging back a little as the becloaked woman makes her way through Darktown, stepping in when necessary. She doesn't wear her Warden's armor for this, dressed instead in a dress and a heavy cloak meant to keep her from being too cold in the snow. Boots, scarf, gloves, accompany the look. Her hair is up, her staff at her back, and she makes polite but no less pleasant chitchat with the Sister from time to time as they walk.
Considering the snowed-in state of some of the roofs of the houses here, the Sister spends time discussing the Chant of Light and how it uplifts souls and Adrasteia and some other volunteers unearth dilapidated houses. If she uses a little magic to melt the rest of the snow away, well. She's careful at it, for one thing.
Edited 2021-02-13 01:57 (UTC)
[ feel free to poke me at spacewitchery#9221 if you'd like a bespoke starter! otherwise adrasteia can be found just about anywhere in the gallows or kirkwall, with specific focuses on the griffon's roost (where she's trying to find a teacher for riding), the stables to meet the horses, and checking in on people in the infirmary. she also trains with a spirit sword and focuses on lightning-based magic. craft your own starter here! ]
Edited 2021-02-13 02:08 (UTC)
Erik was told about the missing shipments in the mountains and has decided to put his riding training with Athessa to good use. So he takes a horse, a shield, and a sword up with him into the mountains to see what's what.
Of course, this means going into various caves and such to see if one can find the missing shipments or even just a mark of their previous existence; going into caves, however, means that one might run afoul of ghasts, which are the ugliest motherfuckers Erik has seen in a minute and he's not shy about saying it.
Feel free to join him on his excursion, or to run into him at the stables putting the poor horse away, or spot him in the infirmary, getting that cut on his arm looked at.
Of course, this means going into various caves and such to see if one can find the missing shipments or even just a mark of their previous existence; going into caves, however, means that one might run afoul of ghasts, which are the ugliest motherfuckers Erik has seen in a minute and he's not shy about saying it.
Feel free to join him on his excursion, or to run into him at the stables putting the poor horse away, or spot him in the infirmary, getting that cut on his arm looked at.
There's still the matter of the post-dream survey he and Wisteria put together to deal with, so Erik can occasionally be found with a thin stack of papers, transcribing notes into a notebook in some corner of the library late in the evening.
He's also decided to start discussing the eventual built of a weapon with the blacksmith, so there's even more reading on that subject. Sketches of weapons and diagrams join his other writings, though these aren't always taken in the library but sometimes in the forge itself, or in the herb garden.
Not to forget, there's always the communal baths, mealtimes, or Erik going through drills in the courtyard as opportunities to run into him.
He's also decided to start discussing the eventual built of a weapon with the blacksmith, so there's even more reading on that subject. Sketches of weapons and diagrams join his other writings, though these aren't always taken in the library but sometimes in the forge itself, or in the herb garden.
Not to forget, there's always the communal baths, mealtimes, or Erik going through drills in the courtyard as opportunities to run into him.
Even in libraries, different types of creatures come crawling at night.
Dick Dickerson is one such creature: spindly-legged in a great, black-furred cloak, secreting in with an armload of overdue books and a lantern to return them by. He pauses after he enters -- at the sight of another light, or at the scuff of ink on paper -- but proceeds undeterred.
The books are too heavy and stacked too messily to carry all the way back. He deposits them on a table in a slanting cascade, swearing (quietly) in a language familiar only to the snake who slides out of the mix like an eel out of a crab trap.
Dick Dickerson is one such creature: spindly-legged in a great, black-furred cloak, secreting in with an armload of overdue books and a lantern to return them by. He pauses after he enters -- at the sight of another light, or at the scuff of ink on paper -- but proceeds undeterred.
The books are too heavy and stacked too messily to carry all the way back. He deposits them on a table in a slanting cascade, swearing (quietly) in a language familiar only to the snake who slides out of the mix like an eel out of a crab trap.
Oh hey. It's that guy, is what Erik thinks once he places the posture and the body language. It does take him a moment, though, mostly because the books are in the way until they're haphazardly set down on the table over there.
Though the books threatening to hit the floor get Erik to his feet quickly, double-taking at the little snake that appears but still managing to grab several books with his arms before using his body to steady the rest of the pile back onto the table.
"Damn, man." How many books did he borrow at a time to come up with a pile like this? "Your cat and your snake get along?"
Though the books threatening to hit the floor get Erik to his feet quickly, double-taking at the little snake that appears but still managing to grab several books with his arms before using his body to steady the rest of the pile back onto the table.
"Damn, man." How many books did he borrow at a time to come up with a pile like this? "Your cat and your snake get along?"
Amador has a way of simply appearing wherever he wants to be, and this is no exception: nobody knows where he sleeps or spends the night, but at the sound of singing, he has materialized at the bottom of the stairwell.
"Cantora!" he calls up in his own musical tenor, "what fair maiden fills the halls with such sweetness?"
Anyone angry with her will now have to be angry with both of them.
"Cantora!" he calls up in his own musical tenor, "what fair maiden fills the halls with such sweetness?"
Anyone angry with her will now have to be angry with both of them.
Recognition reflected back in equal measure gives Richard a beat’s pause -- his nod comes a little too late for to pass for casual acknowledgement.
He looks quite a bit healthier than he did on the floor of that shack in the swamp, orderly, in spite of the rugged heap of his cloak, and clean. Still poorly-rested, but the damage here isn’t written in as deep -- the difference between a fresh-captured street cur and a terrier who’s spent a few days outside unexpectedly.
He also stinks like he’s been drinking.
“Mister Stevens.”
...Isn’t an answer. He tops off the pile with the one book he’d managed to catch on his own, exchanging it for the snake in question.
“They haven’t met.”
He looks quite a bit healthier than he did on the floor of that shack in the swamp, orderly, in spite of the rugged heap of his cloak, and clean. Still poorly-rested, but the damage here isn’t written in as deep -- the difference between a fresh-captured street cur and a terrier who’s spent a few days outside unexpectedly.
He also stinks like he’s been drinking.
“Mister Stevens.”
...Isn’t an answer. He tops off the pile with the one book he’d managed to catch on his own, exchanging it for the snake in question.
“They haven’t met.”
Adrasteia laughs, but can't stop or turn around with the water she has in hand, or else she might have to give up the entire project.
"Adrasteia!" She sings in reply, "Belabored with water, so I cannot stay!~"
That was definitely someone slamming a door for emphasis, wasn't it?
"Adrasteia!" She sings in reply, "Belabored with water, so I cannot stay!~"
That was definitely someone slamming a door for emphasis, wasn't it?
"Mister Silas. Since we're mister-ing, I guess." Erik gives a haphazard sort of shrug. He notices the smell, and the general look about the man. Someone is not having a good time of things, he thinks.
Well. A lot of people aren't, by his measure, and most of them didn't even fill out the survey he and Wisteria worked on. "If you told me your real last name it got lost in the shuffle, sorry."
Well. A lot of people aren't, by his measure, and most of them didn't even fill out the survey he and Wisteria worked on. "If you told me your real last name it got lost in the shuffle, sorry."
“Force of habit,” says Richard, as he lifts the little snake and deposits her at his collar, “I’m taken to understand most of Miss Poppell’s circle prefers formal designation.”
He is here to return these books -- the quickest way to escape a potentially awkward conversation is to complete that task as efficiently as possible. So he begins, reasonably, by separating tomes off the top of the pile into smaller stacks by subject matter.
“Silas Atheris.”
Appropriately alliterative, for a villain.
“How are you settling in?”
He is here to return these books -- the quickest way to escape a potentially awkward conversation is to complete that task as efficiently as possible. So he begins, reasonably, by separating tomes off the top of the pile into smaller stacks by subject matter.
“Silas Atheris.”
Appropriately alliterative, for a villain.
“How are you settling in?”
"Want to race?"
Edgard is eager to get out of Kirkwall and leans forward ready to kick his sleek bay gelding into gear. He glances at Erik eyebrows raised and motions with his head in front of them.
"Or are we going to take our time? At this pace, it'll only take, I don't know, 5 or 6 hours."
Edgard is eager to get out of Kirkwall and leans forward ready to kick his sleek bay gelding into gear. He glances at Erik eyebrows raised and motions with his head in front of them.
"Or are we going to take our time? At this pace, it'll only take, I don't know, 5 or 6 hours."
"Neat trick," Vance plants an elbow against stone to blow on his hands. Call it a breather, he's been digging, and good gloves still soak. The Sister is temporarily distracted — some girl with a doll — "Should come back later, finish it up."
Makes sense to send a dwarf to Darktown, where slick tunnels open onto street. Would've done better to send a different dwarf, which may say a piece on why Vance has stayed tight-lipped through this little excursion.
Makes sense to send a dwarf to Darktown, where slick tunnels open onto street. Would've done better to send a different dwarf, which may say a piece on why Vance has stayed tight-lipped through this little excursion.
"I wouldn't consider myself part of her circle, to be honest." Doing one project together barely makes them coworkers, much less whatever being part of someone's circle implies beyond that. "But you're not the first one to tack a mister onto my name, and I doubt you'll be the last here."
Better than Tony calling him 'Steven', at the very least.
"Having an easier time of it than some people, I'd gather. Would ask if you're doing okay, but..." But he's clearly doing something, and okay is not what Erik would call it. "How long you been here, in Thedas?"
Better than Tony calling him 'Steven', at the very least.
"Having an easier time of it than some people, I'd gather. Would ask if you're doing okay, but..." But he's clearly doing something, and okay is not what Erik would call it. "How long you been here, in Thedas?"
"Shit, you kidding me?" Erik still rides with the hesitance of someone new to all this horseriding shit (because he is) and having a few excursions under his belt has only made him more aware of how easily one could fall from the saddle and break their skull open all over everything.
But Edgard has a point. He doesn't want to spend hours upon hours just getting there.
"'Aight. You set the pace, and I'll do my best to keep up and keep my ass in the saddle." Gotta do Athessa proud, or something.
But Edgard has a point. He doesn't want to spend hours upon hours just getting there.
"'Aight. You set the pace, and I'll do my best to keep up and keep my ass in the saddle." Gotta do Athessa proud, or something.
"Once the Sister is safely within Riftwatch's walls," Adrasteia says, careful not to allow her voice to carry too far or too loudly, "that's the plan."
There's too much to be done just for this sort of surreptitious work. She'd rather be a mage and a Warden and proudly both than heating the supports of the house with a touch and a glancing over her shoulder, but. Well. Not every situation calls for that, and she doesn't want the Sister up in arms or having to explain a situation that she's not directly involved in.
Seems like good politics, that.
The house she's warming gives a threatening groan and Adrasteia steps back, peering at the roof. It doesn't give way, thank the Maker for small miracles, and she turns back to Vance with her hands open.
"How's your gloves?" Hers are warm, but she can share the wealth, as it were.
There's too much to be done just for this sort of surreptitious work. She'd rather be a mage and a Warden and proudly both than heating the supports of the house with a touch and a glancing over her shoulder, but. Well. Not every situation calls for that, and she doesn't want the Sister up in arms or having to explain a situation that she's not directly involved in.
Seems like good politics, that.
The house she's warming gives a threatening groan and Adrasteia steps back, peering at the roof. It doesn't give way, thank the Maker for small miracles, and she turns back to Vance with her hands open.
"How's your gloves?" Hers are warm, but she can share the wealth, as it were.
"What are you working on?" comes quietly, heralding Derrica's arrival before she sets her plate down across from him. The weighted bottom of her mug thunks softly down aside it, though a flicker of hesitation has settled in her expression.
All the diagrams are difficult for her to parse at a glance, but they seem like something complex. Erik might very well ask her to leave him be; she hadn't fully taken in the papers he was looking over before she'd invited herself into his space, but they seem the type to require undivided attention.
All the diagrams are difficult for her to parse at a glance, but they seem like something complex. Erik might very well ask her to leave him be; she hadn't fully taken in the papers he was looking over before she'd invited herself into his space, but they seem the type to require undivided attention.
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