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WHO: Gavin and OPEN
WHAT: Gavin getting his bearings of Skyhold as the Inquisition reels from its loss.
WHEN: Beginning of game timeline, aka, nowish?
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: He's a derp, don't say I didn't warn you. Also, as I mentioned in his app, he's spent a long time wandering Thedas - so if you'd like to have it so they've already met previous to the conclave, and want to hash out some back history, let me know.

He hadn't expected to feel such a weight of helpless loss. After all, he hadn't even met her, despite being in Haven at the time. Despite somehow surviving the mess than ensued. He'd seen her, sure, but she was something high above him and they never actually crossed paths. Which was why, when her death hit him so hard, he was surprised.

It wasn't even the hopelessness that the situation was prone to give birth to. It was honestly for her - for the individual, rather than the Mark on her hand. But how could you mourn a person you never really knew?

Mostly, it turned out, by throwing himself into absolutely anything else. (At least this sort of running from his problems was productive. Mostly.) Luckily, Skyhold was hardly without things to do. The place was a shambles - an absolute mess - so he mostly tried to tag onto whatever work group was currently working. He sort of forgot to sleep, but that wasn't strange in of itself. Nor was the fact that he wasn't actually making himself very useful. He kept getting distracted. It wasn't his fault that everything in this place was fascinating. And fascinating things were much, much better than grief.

Which was why, anyone who happened to be in Skyhold, could find him in some very peculiar places. He'd managed to nearly plummet to his death from the rookery, get tangled in cobwebs in the hidden library in the basement, climb through the hole in Cullen's roof to get distracted by a bird instead of trying to fix it, and even had spent thirty minutes trying to get to know one of the horses. Also he kept not watching where he was going - physically running into people, or backing up into them, letting out a hasty apology and a lopsided, shameful grin.

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Peter was torn. On one hand he recognized, in an objective way, that the rats in the kitchen and stronghold in general were a bad thing that took from the supplies he ate from and needed to be dealt with. On the other, he could sympathize with their plight. They'd been here first, making the castle their own, and suddenly some entitled humans were here and bringing in fresh food then attacking them.

It was a moral conundrum.

So rather than helping get rid of the rats as he'd been tasked to do, Peter tosses another chunk of his bread towards the scouting rodent in the dank basement library beneath Skyhold. He sits along one side of the hall, back against the cold stone, focused entirely on his rat. He only looks away from his rodent friend when an elf suddenly entering the area makes the rat scurry away and Peter's attention jerk to the source of sound- freezing, actually, in a very rodent like way himself.

"They- they sent support troops?"

He'd just come down to get another look at the creepy library, and hadn't been expecting to run into anyone - let alone have a rat almost run right over his toes and disappear into a wall.

"They have?" He asked, somewhat startled, because the last troops he recalled had been Corypheus', and that's exactly where his mind jumped now. He twisted around to look behind him, but there was no one there, so he looked back at Peter, frowning. "Sorry, I mean - No. No, I don't think so. Are you alright?"

"J-just fine."

He didn't know what Peter was supposed to be doing. That's good. That means he's not going to run off and tell the...Peter didn't even know his name, he was just the soldier that had sighed and sent him along do something useful. Maybe the elf hadn't even noticed him feeding the rat- though he'd always been told their eyes were sharped than humans and-

He shoves the rest of the bread behind his back as if he could retroactively make it unseeable with that thought. Or as if that wasn't a sign of guilt.

"Need something?"

He raised an eyebrow - Peter wasn't exactly being subtle - as he slowly figured out exactly what had probably been happening. Rat, bread, suspicious stuttering. It wasn't a huge leap.

Luckily for Peter, Gavin had no beef with rats. They weren't nearly the scourge in the woods as they were in the cities. They were just like any other animal to him - completely welcome to their livelihoods.

"No, I just like coming down here sometimes," Gavin replied with an honest shrug. "Though I hope there are a few less spider webs than when I was here last. Was almost afraid I'd end up in a spider's stew."

There's a long moment of silence that...just keeps going into the next moment as Peter waits for the other shoe to drop. In this time, the rat comes sniffing back into the hall. It's slowly and warily, but the animal clearly holds food as more important than hiding. Peter looks at it, then the elf, waiting to see what happens.

"You like...basements?"

And his voice went up high enough to almost break, like going through puberty all over again, as Peter tries to play it cool while hoping the other male doesn't kill his little fuzzy friend.

"Well, specifically, I like the part of the basement filled with books," He said, offering a lopsided smile as he turned his head to watch the rat come sniffing back, before looking back at Peter.

"Friend of yours? Or here to steal your snack?"

"It's offered!"

There's a slight rush to that protest- it wouldn't be the first time anyone had joked about Peter being pushed around even by the local rodents. But then there's the fact he's not supposed to be feeding them, which means he was going against orders. Which was not good, either.

Maker, how did this always happen so fast?

"They're just...familiar like, you know? Whole different...everything in this place. 'Cept the rats. Every tower's got rats."

Gavin put up his hands with a laugh. "It's alright! I understand. I just wanted to make sure. I don't know that much about towers, really - this is the longest I've ever stayed in one, rats or no."

He turned his head to their fuzzy friend, and added: "You hear that? Lunchtime, then. Come on."

He put his back against the wall and then slid down to sit heavily beside Peter. "Mind if I steal a bite as well? Absolutely famished."

He nods, tearing off a large chunk of bread and (to the disappointment of the rat) hands it over to the elf before ripping off a smaller bit for the rodent. But he should really fix this whole 'the elf' thing. He had a feeling the term might not be viewed in the best light if he used it to describe who he'd been talking to at a later point.

"I- um, I'm Peter. You're really one of the...outside elves?"

The outside was a place that, until a few weeks ago, was mostly viewed from very narrow windows and on mandatory (and brief) exercise outings. Any elves living in the tower had come in before they'd been old enough for the tattoos, so couldn't speak for that whole business any more than Peter could talk about the noble courts of Ferelden. It just wasn't how mages lived.

"Of the Dalish, yes," Gavin said, smiling warmly as he took a bite of the bread for himself, and then ripped off a small piece to give to the rat by way of a peace-offering. It was the least he could do, having stolen some of its meal.

"Gavin. Of Clan Ashara. Very nice to meet you, Peter." There was an honesty in his voice - he had a good deal of respect for people who were kind to animals, and were kind to him on top of that. Humans often weren't. "I assume you've joined our illustrious Inquisition, and aren't just here to visit our little friends?"

Until corrected, Gavin would be Gavin of Clan Ashara. Surely the rule were different for the people actually out and part of the society rather than the ones that had been thrown away for their magic. Not Just Gavin Ashara. Gavin of the clan.

"Yeah, I'm here to...help."

He doesn't raise that up as a question at the end and he's secretly proud of that fact. He has no idea how he'd be of help- so far even his mission of rat killer was not going in the opposite direction intended- but he'd figure out something. Somehow. Or Remus would, anyway, and Peter would do that.

"Like the rest of the mages the Herald brought in. Before- you know. Before."

Before. He knew that one very well, and didn't comment on it. He didn't want to think too deeply about before.

"A Mage, then?" He said instead as he munched. "That's certainly useful. I have absolutely no idea how we would rebuild this place without you." He offered a conspiratorial grin. "I'm not too - ah - effective with the rebuilding effort, myself. But if you need a cliff climbed up, or something shot, I can do that."

There's a moment of silence as Peter stares at him, waiting for the but. Mages and people weren't traditionally a good mix. But after the moment of awkward silence he nods and throws the last of the bread to the rat.

"But you came anyway. To the Inquisition, that is. Why?"

"Because I needed to," Gavin said simply, leaning back against the wall and looking down the hall instead of at Peter as he munched on the bread. "I might not be able to rebuild things, but luckily there are plenty of things the Inquisition needs shot. And the Inquisition are the only ones doing anything about the hole in the sky, about the sheml-- the human wars raging around us."

He looked back at Peter and smiled - in good humour despite the meaning of his words.

"I had to do something, and I couldn't heal the sky myself, could I?"

"No, guess not."

Made sense, and it made Peter relax a little to click that puzzle piece in place. He hadn't been so sure why the Dalish would even care about it all. But hole in the sky. That was true enough. Even if the big one was gone, there was still all the little ones around.

"Just all kinds from all over in this place. Not really...it's a little all overwhelming."

Edited 2015-10-20 00:11 (UTC)

"I'm used to it," Gabin said kindly, giving Peter a smile. "I'm not exactly good at - ah - sitting still. I take it this is your first time with such a diverse company, then?"

"Never been in a mage tower? Just...picture this. But with a templar there-" He pointed at the door into the hallway, "And there."

Another point at just by the stacks of dusty shelves. The multiple Templars were for their protection, in theory, but Peter's friends had always speculated there had to be a point where the Templars were watching the other Templars as much as the mages.

"Human, of course."

"Funnily enough, they don't usually let non-magical wandering Dalish into the Circles," He quipped, before turning his head to watch where Peter was pointing.

He raised an eyebrow. "Of course. Well that... sounds incredibly pleasant," he said, the sarcasm dripping. "I like the Inquisition, but I like it precisely because I'm not escorted everywhere by burly templars."

"Some were pretty."

Not that it ever helped Peter. But while public enemy number one among the mages they may currently be, some of them had been nice to him over the years. In their way.

"The- uh, the girls ones. Some of them. Were girls."

"None of the 'boy ones' were pretty then?" Gavin asked, a teasing grin slipping to his lips. "That's quite a shame. But at least you got a good half, then."

"They called Sirius pretty, I suppose. Or Remus. Sometimes. When he wasn't listening- Er, my friends."

Peter is almost eager to explain just who Sirius and Remus were simply because of the novelty of having to explain it. There was no mystery in a mage tower who anyone was gossiping about. There were only so many people physically able to be the subject of the gossip.

"But I thought- don't you stay away? From people?"

"I didn't stay away from you, did I?" He asked, tilting his head. "As a people? Yes. We're supposed to. But I'm not a prime example of The People."

He sat back, pulling up his knees and resting his elbows on them.

"So tell me about your pretty friends."

"Sorry."

He's not exactly sure if the whole 'not a prime example' thing is a sore spot or not. But better safe than sorry. At least it's turned to a better topic.

"From the tower. Remus is here, the other two- James and Sirius, they're off doing...something impressive. They were never much at sitting still. They'll be back soon with stories."

I hope is unspoken, but can almost be heard in the way he trails off a little. He has total confidence in his friends, he couldn't dream there was anything they couldn't do. They'd never die. But it was possible they'd gone off and found a better life, without the lower half of the gang.

But, no. Of course not.

He only grinned at the apology - it was both a sore spot and a point of pride, so there was no apology necessary.

"Remus, James, and Sirius," he repeated, thoughtfully, making a note of it, in case he ran into them.

"Does that mean you're better at sitting still?"

"When they're not around. They're a pretty good influence."

Peter would have done nothing of the things that comprised his good tower memories (that didn't involve the occasional late morning in bed) without them, he knew.

"Sitting still's not supposed to be good for the soul."

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slipshot - 2015-10-28 02:02 (UTC) - Expand

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