scouting mission: opening doors.

[glandival]

WHO: Aenor Dinadhal, Caric Van Kassel, Ellis, Sabine, Vanadi de Vadarta, Vance Digiorno
WHAT: The gang are sent on a mission to the Anderfels to retrieve an eluvian from a lake and install it in Hossberg.
WHEN: Drakonis
WHERE: Hossberg, the Anderfels
NOTES: TBA

Comments

aenor din'adhal | open

[dinadhal]

i.

Having decided she has no intention of volunteering herself for retrieving the eluvian, Aenor instead volunteers to find shelter. There's no reason to sleep outside, exposed, with what looks like an abandoned fishing shack an easy walk from the lake. "Come," she says, waving a hand toward the building she's settled on. "But quietly."

ii.

In a quiet moment on the shore, Aenor's pulled her boots and socks off, balling the latter up and stuffing them into the heel of the former. She hasn't, however, bothered to roll up the legs of her trousers before wading into the cool water. Each step is a cautious one, as though she half-expects the sand to disappear beneath her foot.

iii.

There's a fire to dry out around, to cook over, to warm with. Aenor likes it, the way she likes any fire with people around it. She's cheerfully talkative, equally interested in getting others to chat as well.

a. "Someone must tell a story, I think."

b. "Hossberg, it will be the hard part of this."

c. "Ah, so you didn't drown!"

d. "And Riftwatch, you like it?"

e. Or ask her something (try to, anyway).

iv.

It's quiet enough on the lake, but not the endless wilderness of the worst of the desert by any means. Which means--perhaps inevitably--they aren't the only people with an interest in the lake. The man walking toward them is the first stranger Aenor's seen since they came to this place, and though she can't judge his facial expression from this distance, she can tell he's human and coming this way.

"Ah--your Ander, is it good?" she asks in an undertone.

v.

[Wildcard!]

ii

[highborn]

Vanadi watches this unsteady progress from the shore -- fully dressed himself, down to the boots, and with no real intention of changing that. Her cautious movements bring him a smile, though, and after a moment he calls softly, "The water isn't going to bite."

[dinadhal]

Aenor glances back his way--Vanadi, one of the elves from beyond the rifts--her eyes rolling a little. "Says, I think, a man who hasn't touched it."

[highborn]

"It's cold," he offers with a shrug, as if he hasn't spent over a century on the chill slopes of mountains. "You must be heartier than I, to wade in so eagerly."

[dinadhal]

She turns--carefully--around entirely, still standing ankle-deep in the water. It's hardly the first time she's encountered a body of water, having grown up along the Lattenfluss, but there's something hesitant in her to walk too far. Not just an inability to swim, though that's certainly part of it.

"This mission, they told you about it?" Aenor answers, teasing. "Everything here, it is under the water."

[highborn]

He heaves an aggrieved sigh, eyes dropping from Aenor to the water itself. He's been trying to avoid considering that part until he absolutely has to, thanks.

"In the world I left behind, there are mages who can breathe water," he says morosely. "And cast spells for warmth, while they're at it. I do wish I had studied magic harder. Or -- at all, really."

[dinadhal]

"And I wish you the same." How useful that would be, under the circumstances. She beckons him over with a tilt of her head. "Come, you will be used to it. The water, it isn't so cold."

[highborn]

He faintly considers pointing out that there's really no sense in getting his clothing all wet for no reason, just a wade for the sake of water, but -- well. Turning down a beautiful woman is rarely a good idea. Even if it means wet cuffs. He sets to unlacing his boots.

"I do wonder what sort of creatures one finds in water like this," he says thoughtfully, as he does. "Surely nothing man-eating sized, it's not nearly an exciting enough place for that."

[dinadhal]

"Hmm." She considers that, watching with mild interest as he gives in. "Wild things, I think. Man-eating ones, yes."

[highborn]

"Oh, just what I'd hoped to hear," he says, with a dryness that could not possibly be mistaken for honesty. Boots set aside, pant legs rolled half up his calves, Vanadi finally stands and eyes the water thoughtfully.

"When we go to recover the thing, do you suppose there will be much nudity?" he asks, speculative. "All that wet and heavy clothing afterward sounds awful."

[dinadhal]

The lake ripples coolly around her ankles, more lazy undulation than anything approaching a wave, and Aenor finds herself tempted to rock back and forth on her heels in time with it. She's taken by the rhythm it gives the world, soothed by it--right up until Vanadi makes her laugh.

"This is what you wonder?" This, from a man who had to be coaxed into removing his boots. "The Anderfels, they're cold at night. Clothing drying by the fire or in the wind, I think, is better than freezing."

Which is to say, yes.

[highborn]

Well, what a good thing he'd brought so many extra changes of clothes -- worth the hassle of carrying it all out here. But still, he brightens, because this is overall good news.

"A silver lining to every cloud," he says, and steps lightly into the water. For all his whining, he barely registers the cold and gives no reaction, only wading out to join her. "I don't know if you've noticed, but a good portion of Riftwatch is very easy to look at."

[dinadhal]

"So eager," she says as she kicks a little splash of water at his bare shins, laughter threading through the words. "And you, who do you long to see in smallclothes?"

[highborn]

He skitters back halfheartedly, as if he could possibly be offended by water soaking into his pants cuffs, and offers a shrugging smile.

"Not to be crass, but we would save time if I told you who I didn't care to see in smallclothes."

[dinadhal]

And Aenor simply gestures with one hand, expansive, as though to say go on, then, make your list.

[highborn]

He settles again in the water, making a show of thoughtful consideration. It goes on for some time, almost too long, before he finally manages, "Oh, do you know Old Lars? He works the kitchens. Bit of a pox problem. He could keep all his clothing on, I wouldn't mind at all."

[dinadhal]

"No, no, a kitchen man in Kirkwall, he doesn't count. We're in the Anderfels now." Though she can't deny that, as a party, they're all rather good-looking--she's teasing mostly for the sake of it. "Every one of us, you want to...ah, the word, the word, I think it is ogle."

[highborn]

His thoughtful consideration flicks into a quick grin as he says, "I'll not leer, but rest assured, I will appreciate any views offered. No sense letting them go to waste."

[dinadhal]

"Flattering, I think." Teasing, but also: he's a handsome young man, that Vanadi, just look at him. Aenor will take the compliment. "After a hard day of work, especially."

iii party crashers welcome

[heorte]

Ellis' hair has dried from his excursion in the water, but his curls are coming up at all angles, unruly like a boy's. He has yet to attempt coaxing them into a less messy presentation. He's sat with his elbows on his knees, hands spread palms out towards the fire, straightening up at Aenor's proposal.

"What kind of story?" Ellis asks. There is some quiet, attentive note in his tone. Interest, clear in spite of his staid expression.

[dinadhal]

"Ghosts, they are traditional." Terrify yourself so you're ready to fight darkspawn if you're roused in the night. Aenor's hair hangs loose around her face tonight as it dries, a blanket from her bedroll wrapped around her. "But any story, I think, is good."

[heorte]

"It was werewolves, in Ferelden," Ellis explains mildly. The objective was only glancingly the same: terrify mischievous wee ones. But no one in Ferelden was concerning themselves with fighting darkspawn when Ellis was being brought up. "But we might have a few ghosts."

If he thinks about it, something might come back. If.

"Were they always ghost stories?" he asks instead.

crashes party.

[fiat]

Caric appears from the circle of darkness around the campfire, and flops bonelessly onto the nearest bedroll. His jacket, a patchworked old thing, becomes a pillow quite quickly, revealing he's even skinnier and bonier than previous estimations. He grins, clearly comfortable. What was he doing before? It doesn't matter; he's not doing it anymore.

"I like the one about the haunted castle."

[dinadhal]

"The haunted castle!" She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. And to Ellis, "This one, I heard from the Anderfels all the way to Kirkwall. Different details every time. But always ghosts. The Anderfels, I think, have always had ghosts. We are more dead than living."

[heorte]

"So are Wardens," is returned like a joke, punctuated with the flash of a smile for them both. (Is it a joke about Wardens, or a joke about Ellis?) Aenor is familiar with Wardens, so it follows that her son has some knowledge as well.

At least, Ellis assumes. He nods in welcome to the man, stretching out with an ease Ellis might have envied, when he was younger.

"Was it a real castle, or a made up castle, or a castle that's no longer standing that's meant to be haunted?" he asks, hands folding over each other, looking between them.