faderift | [ OPEN ] Heart's on fire

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Zevran Aranai's School for Rogues Who Can't Sneak Good and Want to Do Other Stuff Good Too.
WHEN: Wintermarch, all month
WHERE: Skyhold: Courtyard, Stables, Rookery, Battlements, etc
NOTES: Sass, Stealth, and Violence

He had mulled over the notion for a few weeks now; watching the soldiers take themselves to task, the warriors practicing as best they could; the mages training in their spells and thought- aside from combat (and even then there were tricks soldiers did not always think to teach) how was a rascal, a scoundrel, a rogue to learn more tricks? A well trained operation of any sort had well trained members of all sorts; the bruisers, the wizards, the rogues. Perhaps it was high time someone did something for the sneakier sorts.

[ Courtyard ]

Every lesson starts the same- a quick lap around the courtyard as fast as possible, vaulting over people and structures, running along the wall, making use of all the same skills that kept him alive all those years in Antiva City. For those that did not know them? The tricks came as a brief primer after the lap was finished- even a brief demonstration is offered. Afterward he runs them through a few training locks set into empty chests, some of the them wound with ringing alarms for the sake of practice. Trip the wrong tumbler? Off goes the alarm. After that it's stealth and pickpocketing. Sneaking about through a field of tripwires connected to more ringing bells and powder packets, a veritable labyrinth. Any bells go off, any powder on your person? You go through again. One of the training dummies has been re-purposed with bells and pouches on it- each pouch has a bell attached. They're timed and told to get as many as possible without ringing any bells. Ring a bell? Run a lap.

[ Stables ]

Here there is room enough for him to demonstrate proper trap production and dismantling. Every wound spring, every steel mechanism. They start with the basic bladed traps- though none of the blades are sharpened and none of the powder explosions hold more than dye. Once they've made traps that are...decent or satisfactory, Zevran walks them through detection and dismantling. Some of the practice traps have trick springs and triggers- if set off they'll be dusted with powder instead of losing their fingers. Later he goes through a list of common poisons and venoms to create and how to build up a tolerance for them. He does not provide them with samples this early on.

[ Battlements ]

Rappelling and dueling and improvisational combat and you! Here Zevran shows them how to climb, how to fall, how to make their own ropes when they've none of their own, how to throw a rappel to make it stay, how to haul it down, and how to dual wield on uneven ground. Demonstrations with Isabela and sparring with whoever wishes to take their turn happens throughout the day as requested; Zevran also covers grappling, breaking holds, and how to fight dirty. An honorable rogue is a dead rogue after all.

[ Wildcard ]

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The circle is closing. They're searching the skies but they'll land eventually, dig their talons in.

[ Relaxing her posture River turns the blade over in her hand. In an instant she goes from precise, deadly weapon to curious child, still testing the limits of what she could do. Or see.

Not enough to be helpful, to be relied upon. Not yet. Her eyes dart back up to Zevran, solemn in their depth. ]

Have to be ready.

That is why we must meet them in the air. Choose where we land- control the fight.

[ So long as you know the ground you hold? The battle is simpler. Easier.

He reaches out to squeeze her hands around the blades- dangerous he knows but she and he are alike in that they're both honed at a slightly raw edge yet. ]

You will be.

[ It's a marked change. Simon treats her like a sister, like a sick thing that needs to be fixed. A gift, he calls her. Something to protect. The others see a little girl, someone to shield, innocent if broken.

Zevran puts the blade in her hand and trusts her to follow the dance. It's...exhilarating in its own way. The weight of it in her hand, in his hand on hers. She could be more than frightened, more than pieces being put back together.

She nods before taking a breath, fingers flexing around the blade. ]

Again?

Again. See if you cannot halve your time.

[ He's been teaching them slow- learn how it feels, learn where the strike would go, memorize the motion and the weight of the blade in their hands until it is second nature. No one picks it up half as well as River.

Whatever has made her what she is? Has made her easy to teach, easy to shape.

Taking care to teach her well is ever on his mind- but not teaching her is far more dangerous. ]

Be swift and certain, yes? Then we shall race the ramparts together.

[ Something turns bright, happy behind the back of her dark eyes. With a fierce little nod she returns to starting position, the blade flipping sharply as she retakes her hold of the hilt.

The steps ingrain themselves with ease. They always have. Once upon a time it had been a game, when Simon was still at home, watching her chirp answers back to him while their parents stared on proudly.

Would they be proud now?

Suddenly it's them in her mind's eye, her focus cracking, and she draws to a halt, her eyes wide. No. Her father's throat, not the mage's. That's wrong. It's not a misstep, the move completed beautifully, but her mind has gone somewhere else. The face is wrong.

He didn't know. He wouldn't have sent her away if he'd known. If... ]

[ It starts beautifully. Every step, every cut just as it should be, her form perfect up until the moment she freezes. Anyone else? He'd assume they forgot where to go next.

River never forgets.

Careful on the approach for she seems lost, he murmurs gently. ]

Who do you see?

He didn't know.

[ Those thoughts find her tongue, though her blade remains raised, now almost as a defense rather than an aborted strike. ]

...he just didn't want people to know. Thought it would be safer, sending me away.

[ But he'd been afraid. And he'd been wrong. He'd be sorry, but he wouldn't want them back, not now. He would have left her to them. ]

Neither did they.

[ The crows are known- their methods? Are not. The whores had a debt that needed paying and the Crows had coin- he had been small and clever and deft of hand. They hadn't known.

He does not hate them for it. ]

Mistakes can be made without earning blood.

[ She takes a breath, closing her eyes. The blade lowers. No, he's right. Their father loves them in his way, even if he'll never know what became of them. Whatever she feels there doesn't signify. It's not important. ]

His hands aren't the bloody ones.

[ Her eyes open again and it's the training yard, and Zevran some distance away. She's faltered when she should have executed perfectly. But all of his students have their shortcomings, things to overcome.

Her are just a little more complicated than learning movements. ]

...that is enough for today.

[ Without hesitation and without fear, he approaches. Takes her hands in his to remove the dagger- to sheathe her talons for the time being. It is not easy. The things she carries in her head are strange and he does not know where they begin and where the girl ends.

But he knows she loves to dance, she loves to fly. ]

The ramparts. I have hidden a few trinkets at the top wrapped in colored cloth. I wonder how quickly you can find them, mm?

[ A hunt. That cheers her a bit as she surrenders the blade to him, before turning towards the nearest wooden scaffold and hoisting herself up onto a beam. This is easier. No deciding who is friend or foe, worthy of life or death. This is almost childlike exuberance as she clambers upwards, no creak from the wood as her weight shifts. One foot after another, hopping upwards.

The stairs are too easy, and not the point. They were practicing down here for a reason. ]

[ Little bundles knotted up in brightly colored ribbon- Blues and reds and a few scraps of violet. Inside? Dried fruits or glass beads. Prizes, like Araceli suggested. Something to make the chase worthwhile and nothing so grand as to cost much but not so little as to be a pittance. Reward rather than punishment as incentive is...new. But if this is to be what he wishes it to be? He must do more.

At least like this she seems less the shadows and more herself. ]

[ She is fearless, in this. The winds sweeps through her hair and the ground shrinks beneath her, but there is no hesitation in her climb. Her eyes scout ahead for the next grasping point, the next perch for her feet, calculating how far she needs to push up in order to continue.

Climbing the stone is slightly more difficult. Fewer handholds there, but the ones that exist are sturdy, worn in over decades, centuries. One such hold looms overhead, and she draws her feet beneath her for a boost, before pulling herself and all but running up the side of the wall before seizing hold.

Finally, finally the top, tumbling over the side, out of breath but smiling. ]

What do you see, Averla?

[ That high there is everything to see- the courtyard, the camps beyond, the whole mess of tangled wires he'd set up as a course for the others to climb and weave through without being touched. But how she climbed like a squirrel- like someone born to it. All the sky above her and all he world below.

From her vantage point, finding the hidden splashes of color? Is easy. ]

[ So much. The mountains go on endlessly in every direction, stretching high enough to touch the sky at their tips, and below is a surge of color, sound, and activity. It's one thing to feel separate from it all when you're amidst them, but up here?

It's beautiful. Freeing. A breath of air.

She stares for a time, hair whipping about her face, before lifting a hand to point.

She's spotted the prize. ]

Can you reach it?

[ A challenge for most- but for River? Making her way to it should be a simple enough task, up a level and across an awning.

how she chooses to get there, now. That is the interesting thing. ]

[ OPEN ] Heart's on fire

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