WHO: Loki, Erik, Adrasteia & y'all WHAT: Catch-all WHEN: Late Solace / Early August WHERE: Kirkwall NOTES: Language warning for Erik, otherwise nothing yet. Open starters in comments.
"You always say that," she points out cheerfully, "but have you ever known it to stop me?"
At Ellis' question, Adrasteia gives a little snort; she decided to busy herself with making coffee for the both of them, as they're definitely going to need it. "Maker, no. What would we even meet about?"
Dragging both Ellis and Vance into the same room seems like a dangerous proposition, besides.
Though Ellis certainly hopes it doesn't, neither of them should really rule out the idea that they'll be called upon to deal with one of the impending disasters. And Ellis has his own projects he's trying to unravel.
None he intends on sharing just yet, but still.
Having rolled up his sleeves, he lifts the spreader, steps onto a low chair and begins patching the pockmarked space at the top of the wall with the intention of working his way downwards.
"How is your hand?" is not an easy topic either, but it's on his mind, something else he worries about despite having very little ability to do anything for it.
"Let's hope it doesn't," she counters cheerfully, moving to set a cup of coffee for him on a table not far from the chair he's standing on. After a moment's pause, she puts a handkerchief over the mouth of the cup. Just in case any plaster or paint comes its way.
Also to keep it hotter for longer.
She begins to roll up her sleeves as Ellis asks about her hand; she flexes each finger in turn and then gives a little shrug. "Fine, really. Probably will be stiff when it gets too cold, but that's alright. Have you commissioned more armor?"
"You'll need gloves," says Ellis, who has some experience with damage to the hand. He's never considered that a shard might be much the same as an injury until recently, and it's disquieting to dwell on it too long.
There's a pause, Ellis smoothing the caulking over a set of pockmarks until the stretch of wall is covered smoothly. He braces one hand against the high molding along the top of the wall, turning to look down at her.
"Hold that tray up to me, please," comes first, before he continues, "They managed to get me something scraped together enough for Starkhaven. But I'll have to spend some coin for a proper refit, now that we've a little breathing room."
"I have a pair," she answers, moving to pick up the tray he's indicated and holding it up above her head. Short people problems. "I'll get warmer ones, though, before the seasons change."
Peering at him from under the tray, Adrasteia considers this. "Too bad we aren't back in Orzammar." Well. Not exactly 'too bad', he'd been upset with her and she'd rather not revisit that detail, thanks. "Have you decided what you'll request from the blacksmith?"
When she lifts the tray, Ellis can bend to meet her. Between them, it's enough.
"Ah, I haven't thought of it," he tells her, straightening up. The chair creaks, but not enough to set off any warning bells. The corner of his mouth pulls up, maybe some recognition of the absurdity of indecision. "I've worn the same armor for a long time, you see."
So the chances of: the exact same, but new, very likely.
At least her arms are strong and well-equipped for holding things above her head.
"Was that the set you received after the Joining?" If so, that makes some sense; she imagines that Ellis has been a Warden for long enough that his armor would be like an old friend at this point. She's not surprised that he wouldn't simply recreate the familiar. It's very... Ellis.
It's been some years since the Joining. There are scrapes he emerged from that Adrasteia couldn't know about, but that had taken their toll on him and consequently, his armor. There's a beat of quiet, filled only with the scrape of the tool spreading caulk along the holes, before he continues, "I've had it melted down before, and reformed. What can't be reshaped will be set aside for that, I expect."
And what shape it takes, well—
It doesn't necessarily matter, so long as it bear the Warden crest.
"I might put aside the coin for some sort of runes."
Said like a joke. Ha, ha, an expenditure like that.
She brightens a little at his mention of runes. "Oh, that wouldn't be a bad idea, I think." If he could equip himself with a healing rune she'd feel a little better about the world as a whole, but she's not about to tell him that.
Somehow she doesn't imagine that would be his first choice.
"Did your mace survive what your armor did not, or do you have to purchase a new one of those as well?"
"Mmhmm." Adrasteia nods. "After Hasmal, I stayed here, trying to help prepare for the influx of people displaced by the war." Also because she was voiceless for a moment there, which she can only view as a hindrance to her own well-being, along with anyone nearby to her, on a war's front lines. "I doubt it will go over smoothly, having so many fleeing the war heading this way, but. I couldn't just do nothing."
There's aspects of it that seem easier dealt with than what Ellis remembers of fleeing from Ferelden. Those fleeing south are Marchers too. That might smooth things over, even fi they're accompanied by those who have come all the way from Tevinter trying to escape the reach of the war.
"There'll be more to do yet," Ellis says, bending again to the tray. It's a neutral observation. "Whoever stays outside Kirkwall will need better shelter than they've now."
It's all much easier when it's a Blight, Adrasteia imagines. The Blight is indiscriminate, it cares nothing about where you're from, or what you do, or what the politics of your people are.
Harder when it's a nation, and there are people of that nation at your door, asking for help.
Harder but not, in her opinion, impossible.
"Brother Gideon will probably have some ideas on how we can help with outreach. Hopefully we can build shelter before the fall rains set in."
"Speak with Holden," Ellis advises. "He's been spending time with them, he'll know what's needed."
Even if maybe both of them know what's needed by people displaced by forces far outside their control. It can't be so different, whether it's Marchers or Fereldans or Vints come all the way down from the Imperium.
Shelter. A place to rebuild a life.
"Maybe you could have a meeting with him in this newly painted office," is a suggestion veering away from the weight of the subject, more teasing than anything else.
"I will." Holden is good people, very focused on how to help more often than not. It'll be an excellent idea to work with him on this overwhelming project of helping people resettle.
She smiles up at Ellis. "You're welcome to use the office too, you know. I don't want to horde it all for myself."
"I don't have meetings," Ellis says, with some amusement.
But it's true. If there is business involving Ellis, he is the one summoned. Or the one who appears in the doorway of an office, prepared to make an proposal.
And on the subject of that—
"If all stays quiet here, I'm going to need to take some time to visit Skyhold. And Ansburg, as long as Prince Sebastian holds steady and there's some leeway to travel."
It's only a concession to worries he is sure Adrasteia will have. Ellis is still a Warden. There is still some possibility that a lone Warden on the road would be allowed to pass, if he were not obvious as to his connection to Riftwatch.
"You may yet find some reason to need an empty room." Adrasteia would shrug but she's holding this thing above her head, so. The casualness of her tone will have to convey it instead.
There's something not unalike to fear that begins to coil in her stomach, but she swallows it down and nods. Not at the idea of him going to Skyhold, that's all well and good; but Ansberg is off the Minanter, and ships have been stopped along the rivers, and beyond that, the city is considered something of the edge of nowhere in particular.
A lot could go wrong between here and there, even for a lone Warden traveling.
"Will you be taking your crystal with you?" She's already plotting how she can get him to take some potions with him, just in case.
Not that having their crystals had done the Scoutmaster or the Commander much good. Ellis knows better than to say this aloud, but still.
The scrape of Ellis' handiwork pauses. There is a clatter of spreader hitting tray, before Ellis lifts it from her hands to flash a brief smile down at her.
"I can do the rest from the floor," precedes the more relevant, "I know how to stay out of sight while traveling. You needn't be concerned."
Because he is nearly certain that's where her mind has gone to.
It's a good point, but it's probably for the best that Ellis doesn't mention it; Adrasteia is already trying not to catastrophize in her mind about his traveling.
He smiles, and she grins back, before stepping back and away from the wall. She can start painting on one of the unmarred sides of the room, then, if he's done needing her to hold things. "I know I shouldn't." That doesn't mean she won't. "What is in Ansberg?"
Adrasteia would be forgiven for assuming Ellis doesn't intend to answer. There's a pause while he steps off the chair, sets the tray there, and takes up the spreading tool once more before he speaks. It's enough time to have parsed how he means to approach this.
"I want to know if there's anything in our records that might show us a way to draw the corruption from that rift in the temple, and any others we might find."
It's a delicate topic. Ellis isn't looking at her when he says it, thinking of the shard in her hand and Richard's requests and how all of it is such a risk when they know so little of what they're attempting.
She does assume so, and hesitates to look at him over her shoulder once but, otherwise? She simply lets the silence sit until he says something, or clearly changes the topic. In the meantime she begins painting the baseboards on the opposite wall.
When Ellis speaks up again she doesn't startle but she does stop painting to turn back and look at him again.
Adrasteia bites her tongue to keep from asking the first thought that comes to her mind, namely if he's certain that he must do this alone. Ansberg is not that far from Weisshaupt, she figures; a dangerous place for either of them, but moreso her than Ellis. She shouldn't go with him even if she wanted to, and she does want to.
"I don't know," isn't a deflection. Ellis cannot assume it will be an easy journey, regardless of what they know of the enemy's movements. "I intend on Skyhold first, then I'll come back here before I go on to Ansburg."
Is that reassuring? Maybe, maybe not. But it's the only smart thing to do. Whatever he receives from Skyhold is better deposited safely in the Gallows than toted along with him to Ansburg. If he is unlucky enough to be caught up in the company of Tevinter soldiers, there will be nothing to attach him to Riftwatch, and nothing on him they might use for their own purposes.
"I'm not afraid," is certainly not reassuring, whatever Ellis thinks to the contrary. He's spackled the last of the pockmarks, taken a step back to examine his handiwork rather than watch her. "There's nothing they could possibly want with me, even if they could catch me."
"Alright." If he splits his journey then she can do whatever she can to prepare him for whatever risks he may find on the road; the Inquisition would have better supplies, certainly, but she can do her best to equip him with potions and grenades. Better still if he doesn't need them.
It is not reassuring, at all, but Adrasteia can't bring herself to say such. Instead she simply glances at him over her shoulder before continuing with her painting. "They could always just be happy to add another Warden to their numbers." They don't have to be looking for him in order to cause him trouble.
It might be difficult, but opportunity would present itself. Ellis doesn't believe they'd bother themselves with him. Not if they didn't know that he'd spent so much time this far south, that he'd been working with Riftwatch, adjacent to the Inquisition.
"We need to know, Adrasteia," he says, turning fully from the wall to watch her as she works. "If there's something we might try before we let more people do things they can't take back."
She has no rebuttal to that — it's true, they've both escaped from the wrong side of this war before — and so she says nothing in response. Expressing her concern to him won't change the necessity; if anything she imagines it would be frustrating for Ellis to have her reiterate her fears in the first place, so. Adrasteia bites her lip and keeps painting.
"I know." She doesn't think it's a bad idea, exactly, she just... has concerns and an active imagination for the many ways in which things could go wrong for Ellis on a trip such as this one. A sigh, and she pauses in her painting, catches him watching her. "I know. I only wish someone was going with you."
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At Ellis' question, Adrasteia gives a little snort; she decided to busy herself with making coffee for the both of them, as they're definitely going to need it. "Maker, no. What would we even meet about?"
Dragging both Ellis and Vance into the same room seems like a dangerous proposition, besides.
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Though Ellis certainly hopes it doesn't, neither of them should really rule out the idea that they'll be called upon to deal with one of the impending disasters. And Ellis has his own projects he's trying to unravel.
None he intends on sharing just yet, but still.
Having rolled up his sleeves, he lifts the spreader, steps onto a low chair and begins patching the pockmarked space at the top of the wall with the intention of working his way downwards.
"How is your hand?" is not an easy topic either, but it's on his mind, something else he worries about despite having very little ability to do anything for it.
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Also to keep it hotter for longer.
She begins to roll up her sleeves as Ellis asks about her hand; she flexes each finger in turn and then gives a little shrug. "Fine, really. Probably will be stiff when it gets too cold, but that's alright. Have you commissioned more armor?"
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There's a pause, Ellis smoothing the caulking over a set of pockmarks until the stretch of wall is covered smoothly. He braces one hand against the high molding along the top of the wall, turning to look down at her.
"Hold that tray up to me, please," comes first, before he continues, "They managed to get me something scraped together enough for Starkhaven. But I'll have to spend some coin for a proper refit, now that we've a little breathing room."
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Peering at him from under the tray, Adrasteia considers this. "Too bad we aren't back in Orzammar." Well. Not exactly 'too bad', he'd been upset with her and she'd rather not revisit that detail, thanks. "Have you decided what you'll request from the blacksmith?"
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"Ah, I haven't thought of it," he tells her, straightening up. The chair creaks, but not enough to set off any warning bells. The corner of his mouth pulls up, maybe some recognition of the absurdity of indecision. "I've worn the same armor for a long time, you see."
So the chances of: the exact same, but new, very likely.
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"Was that the set you received after the Joining?" If so, that makes some sense; she imagines that Ellis has been a Warden for long enough that his armor would be like an old friend at this point. She's not surprised that he wouldn't simply recreate the familiar. It's very... Ellis.
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It's been some years since the Joining. There are scrapes he emerged from that Adrasteia couldn't know about, but that had taken their toll on him and consequently, his armor. There's a beat of quiet, filled only with the scrape of the tool spreading caulk along the holes, before he continues, "I've had it melted down before, and reformed. What can't be reshaped will be set aside for that, I expect."
And what shape it takes, well—
It doesn't necessarily matter, so long as it bear the Warden crest.
"I might put aside the coin for some sort of runes."
Said like a joke. Ha, ha, an expenditure like that.
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Somehow she doesn't imagine that would be his first choice.
"Did your mace survive what your armor did not, or do you have to purchase a new one of those as well?"
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Halfway down, Ellis pauses to assess his work as he answers, "Aye, my mace came through it all fine."
A true relief. Ellis has had that mace nearly half his life, expects to have it for the remainder of it.
"And you came through it all mostly unharmed, aye?"
no subject
"Mmhmm." Adrasteia nods. "After Hasmal, I stayed here, trying to help prepare for the influx of people displaced by the war." Also because she was voiceless for a moment there, which she can only view as a hindrance to her own well-being, along with anyone nearby to her, on a war's front lines. "I doubt it will go over smoothly, having so many fleeing the war heading this way, but. I couldn't just do nothing."
no subject
There's aspects of it that seem easier dealt with than what Ellis remembers of fleeing from Ferelden. Those fleeing south are Marchers too. That might smooth things over, even fi they're accompanied by those who have come all the way from Tevinter trying to escape the reach of the war.
"There'll be more to do yet," Ellis says, bending again to the tray. It's a neutral observation. "Whoever stays outside Kirkwall will need better shelter than they've now."
no subject
Harder when it's a nation, and there are people of that nation at your door, asking for help.
Harder but not, in her opinion, impossible.
"Brother Gideon will probably have some ideas on how we can help with outreach. Hopefully we can build shelter before the fall rains set in."
no subject
Even if maybe both of them know what's needed by people displaced by forces far outside their control. It can't be so different, whether it's Marchers or Fereldans or Vints come all the way down from the Imperium.
Shelter. A place to rebuild a life.
"Maybe you could have a meeting with him in this newly painted office," is a suggestion veering away from the weight of the subject, more teasing than anything else.
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She smiles up at Ellis. "You're welcome to use the office too, you know. I don't want to horde it all for myself."
no subject
But it's true. If there is business involving Ellis, he is the one summoned. Or the one who appears in the doorway of an office, prepared to make an proposal.
And on the subject of that—
"If all stays quiet here, I'm going to need to take some time to visit Skyhold. And Ansburg, as long as Prince Sebastian holds steady and there's some leeway to travel."
It's only a concession to worries he is sure Adrasteia will have. Ellis is still a Warden. There is still some possibility that a lone Warden on the road would be allowed to pass, if he were not obvious as to his connection to Riftwatch.
no subject
There's something not unalike to fear that begins to coil in her stomach, but she swallows it down and nods. Not at the idea of him going to Skyhold, that's all well and good; but Ansberg is off the Minanter, and ships have been stopped along the rivers, and beyond that, the city is considered something of the edge of nowhere in particular.
A lot could go wrong between here and there, even for a lone Warden traveling.
"Will you be taking your crystal with you?" She's already plotting how she can get him to take some potions with him, just in case.
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Not that having their crystals had done the Scoutmaster or the Commander much good. Ellis knows better than to say this aloud, but still.
The scrape of Ellis' handiwork pauses. There is a clatter of spreader hitting tray, before Ellis lifts it from her hands to flash a brief smile down at her.
"I can do the rest from the floor," precedes the more relevant, "I know how to stay out of sight while traveling. You needn't be concerned."
Because he is nearly certain that's where her mind has gone to.
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He smiles, and she grins back, before stepping back and away from the wall. She can start painting on one of the unmarred sides of the room, then, if he's done needing her to hold things. "I know I shouldn't." That doesn't mean she won't. "What is in Ansberg?"
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Adrasteia would be forgiven for assuming Ellis doesn't intend to answer. There's a pause while he steps off the chair, sets the tray there, and takes up the spreading tool once more before he speaks. It's enough time to have parsed how he means to approach this.
"I want to know if there's anything in our records that might show us a way to draw the corruption from that rift in the temple, and any others we might find."
It's a delicate topic. Ellis isn't looking at her when he says it, thinking of the shard in her hand and Richard's requests and how all of it is such a risk when they know so little of what they're attempting.
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When Ellis speaks up again she doesn't startle but she does stop painting to turn back and look at him again.
Adrasteia bites her tongue to keep from asking the first thought that comes to her mind, namely if he's certain that he must do this alone. Ansberg is not that far from Weisshaupt, she figures; a dangerous place for either of them, but moreso her than Ellis. She shouldn't go with him even if she wanted to, and she does want to.
"How long do you expect it will take?"
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Is that reassuring? Maybe, maybe not. But it's the only smart thing to do. Whatever he receives from Skyhold is better deposited safely in the Gallows than toted along with him to Ansburg. If he is unlucky enough to be caught up in the company of Tevinter soldiers, there will be nothing to attach him to Riftwatch, and nothing on him they might use for their own purposes.
"I'm not afraid," is certainly not reassuring, whatever Ellis thinks to the contrary. He's spackled the last of the pockmarks, taken a step back to examine his handiwork rather than watch her. "There's nothing they could possibly want with me, even if they could catch me."
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It is not reassuring, at all, but Adrasteia can't bring herself to say such. Instead she simply glances at him over her shoulder before continuing with her painting. "They could always just be happy to add another Warden to their numbers." They don't have to be looking for him in order to cause him trouble.
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And so did she.
It might be difficult, but opportunity would present itself. Ellis doesn't believe they'd bother themselves with him. Not if they didn't know that he'd spent so much time this far south, that he'd been working with Riftwatch, adjacent to the Inquisition.
"We need to know, Adrasteia," he says, turning fully from the wall to watch her as she works. "If there's something we might try before we let more people do things they can't take back."
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"I know." She doesn't think it's a bad idea, exactly, she just... has concerns and an active imagination for the many ways in which things could go wrong for Ellis on a trip such as this one. A sigh, and she pauses in her painting, catches him watching her. "I know. I only wish someone was going with you."
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bow on this y/n what are we feelin'