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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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The only suitable response for the moment was a groan, then a wince as she lifted her head. Fortunately, having long curving horns to buffer said head helped a great deal, even as the rest of her body ached in protest as she tried to sit up. It happened, though slowly.

"I--ugh, ow. I should be asking you that. Andraste's tits, what brought that on?"

He was definitely going to feel it for a few days, but nothing sneaking a pie to one of the healers wouldn't fix. He rubbed his hip, where a bruise was already forming, and managed to look incredibly sheepish.

"I-- sorry. Was trying to feed one of the Ravens, and - well. Lost my balance. Thanks. For the making sure I didn't die while doing it, thing."

And she could tell there would be a few bruises of her own, though it seemed unfair to blame the falling elf for that. It's not like anyone would have chosen to fall like that on purpose, after all. She manages a pained smile while awkwardly getting to her feet.

"Well, I wanted to be of help around here. Didn't think that would mean being anyone's cushion, but it's better than coming across a dead elf in the atrium. Just try not to aim for that again, alright? I can't promise I'll be around next time to break that fall."

He laughed, then, and rubbed a hand through his hair.

"Yes, ah-" He realised then that he had absolutely no idea how to formally address a Qunari woman, and looked a little sheepish. "Yes. I'll be more careful. Gavin, by the way. Of the Clan Ashara. And ah - now the Inquisition."

"Korrin Ataash, of the Valo-Kas--well, now also the Inquisition." She perks up a little, recognizing that clan name. "Right, that's the Dalish clan I've heard of most around here. Met one of yours, too. Beleth, was it? That wasn't too long ago, in the Hinterlands."

That brought a warm smile to his lips. "Beleth, yes, she's one of ours. She's here now, apparently - I had no idea any of them were coming until she got here."

Feeling a little more relaxed, he looked at her, then at the door, then back to her, before offering a sheepish grin. "Can I - ah - get you a drink, or something, to make up for, well--" He made a little hand motion of himself falling from there rookery, complete with a little 'splat' sound at the end.

The hand-motion gets an amused snort from Korrin, who can find it more entertaining now that certain parts aren't throbbing in pain quite as much. "You know what, why not. I'd love that. I've been on my feet all day anyway, it'd be nice to sit still for a while."

That earned her a grin - anyone that was willing to sit back and relax with him was instantly in his good books. The whole, you know, saving his life thing helped too, obviously.

"Great!" He shook himself - a bad idea, in hindsight, as it made him wince painfully - but then he laughed and motioned for her to follow him to the tavern.

"No drinking games, I think - I'm pretty sure literally any Qunari could drink me under the table..."

Korrin laughs and nods, unable to deny it as she follows along. "It usually takes a lot of human brew to affect me, so I'd say so. Don't worry, I wouldn't save you only to kill you through alcohol poisoning. Though once I sit down, I'll probably need to be pried off or left there."

Edited 2015-10-23 13:10 (UTC)

"I'll do my utmost to pry you away at the worst possible time," Gavin agreed happily as they stepped out into the courtyard - the sun having set below the mountains, but still lit the sky. "I'm not as much of a lightweight as I once was. Spend any time drinking with dwarves, and you learn how to hold your liquor..."

Korrin appreciates the view, though her stride doesn't slow down any. If she lingers out here, either someone will need her skills or she'll see something that will require it and want to finish it herself. "If you do that, you're braver than most. And ugh, never try dwarven brews. All they're good for is a dare or to prank someone, not anything to actually enjoy. A lot of qunari brews are the same way, though, at least for others."

"After three months of it, I'm actually almost fond of dwarven ale," Gavin grinned. "Can't claim to have had the pleasure of any Qunari brews, however. Haven't found an opportunity."

He pulled the door open with a flourish - ow - and held it open for her as he considered the matter thoughtfully. "Do they have any in stock here, I wonder?"

"Why, are you looking to punish yourself?" Korrin raises an eyebrow, impressed and amused at the notion. "If they do, I have to see this. Just don't say I didn't warn you, alright?"

She's not anyone's babysitter, but it wouldn't be right not to say anything about the strength of such brews. Even most humans underestimate it.

"I always believe in trying everything once," He said with a grin as they stepped inside and saddled up to the bar.

"Haven't found anything that's killed me yet, obviously!"

Not that fate wasn't doing its best, as Korrin had already well seen.

Korrin just shakes her head in amusement at that; she warned him, it's now on his shoulders instead of hers.

"Famous last words, you know. I'd rather die in battle than on a tavern floor, but you do you. I'll stick with that new brandy they were talking about getting in, that sounded promising."

He grinned. "Brandy is. Grab us a table, I'll get our drinks," He said, before he made his way over to the bar to arrange just that. Unluckily for him (or perhaps luckily), they did not have any Qunari brew, so Gavin came back with an expression that resembled a puppy dog, a glass of Brandy, and a normal mug of Ferelden beer.

"No luck," he said mournfully.

Korrin easily claims a table, as at this hour there aren't too many patrons. That and no one probably wants to tell a 'qunari' to move, anyway. She accepts her drink, chuckling at Gavin's unfortunate turn of events.

"It's for the best, though if you don't believe me I bet you'll still have your chance before long. I've met -three? no, four- others of my kind running around here, so they might try to accommodate that before long. But if you do, it can't hurt to bring along someone willing to pry you off the floor."

"Four of you?" Gavin asked. He'd seen a couple, but that didn't stop his surprise. "I didn't realise that there were so many. I thought - ah - most of your kind would kind of... be against the whole, ah, Inquisition thing." He gave her an apologetic smile.

"To be fair, though - of all the peoples in the world, the Qunari are the ones I know the least about."

"Well, five. I forgot about our new scout for a moment." Korrin takes a sip, then rolls her eyes, though the small smirk at her lips reveals she doesn't really take offense. "I'm not a Qunari, though. Sure, I have the horns, but I was never part of the Qun. So, that makes me a Vashoth. The others are either Tal-Vashoth or Vashoth, too. The actual Qunari? I have no idea what they think and I care even less, as long as they stay over there."

"Oh. That's right, I heard something about Tal-Vashoth, but I thought that just meant... I'm not sure, I thought it was a title. And Qunari was the race. So it's being part of the Qun, that makes the difference?"

A firm nod to that. "It makes every difference. Under the Qun, I wouldn't even really be considered a person, just a weapon. You know, because of being a mage. Not that they treat non-mages that much better, either. My parents broke off from the Qun when they were young, so they're the Tal-Vashoth. Same with my grandmother, mentor and company leader. They all broke away and are better for it."

He frowned at that. "I'd heard stories about their mages, but I never actually believed it. Do they really --" But he cut off, thinking better for it, and giving her a sheepish look. "Sorry. Well, I'm glad they did, then. Are you Tal-Vashoth, too, or just - Vashoth?"

"Just Vashoth. If you see a mage with stitch scars on their lips, that's a Tal-Vashoth--a former saarebas. I haven't seen many of those, though, so I doubt you'll come across them even here." As far as Korrin knows, she's the only Vashoth mage for miles around. "So, no Par Vollen for me. I'm just a Marcher."

Well that answered the question he hadn't really wanted to ask. "Well, we have that in common too, then. My clan usually roams around the Free Marches somewhere."

He smiled at that before taking a sip of his drink. "Were you in a circle, then, or...?"

Likewise sampling her own, Korrin nearly chokes on it at that question. "Have you ever heard of a Vashoth in a Circle? I'm seriously asking, because I haven't. Andraste's tits, what a thought. No, but I had a mentor. My parents had something to do with that, actually. My mentor was their friend, and they didn't want said friend to meet a saarebas' fate. So, they smuggled them out, away from all that rot. When I came into my magic, I had someone to teach me. Sometimes karma happens."