faderift | (no subject)

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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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That makes him flash Sam a wide grin. "Well, I would never stop a man from spreading any tale he likes," he teased, even as he tried to get the rest of the dirt off of him.

"I'll even be happy to back up the story. Though the poor bush gets the short end of the stick either which way, I fear."

Sam right out laughs at the pun. Whether Gavin intended to make it or not didn't matter, it still tickled Sam the right way. "Well I thank you for your support, Gavin. I have to get people to think me a bit more than being tall and tripping over everything."

Sam takes his hand back and reaches over to pat Gavin on the shoulder, helping him with getting the dirt off. It's at that point that Sam realizes something. "Oh. How terrible of me. You gave me your name and I didn't give you mine. I'm Samouel, though some refer to me by my last name, Gareth."

"A pleasure to meet you, Samouel," Gavin said, and the honest of the statement was apparent. "Though perhaps next time we can meet with less - ah - sudden circumstances." He grinned with that.

"I swear I've seen your face... Have you been with the Inquisition long?"

Sam smiles. "I'll try, but I cannot make any promises on that. I have a tendency to run into people. Without warning."

At the mention of his face, Sam tilts his head. He mildly remember there's soot on it and lightly rubs at a bit of his cheek. "Ah, yeah actually. I was around before Haven..." his words die off at that part, knowing that many don't want to talk about it. "So I'm guessing you've been around for a while, too?"

The hesitation is all too familiar - so much had been left unsaid, since, and Gavin offered a weak smile of understanding. "Yes. The same. So I must have seen you."

He gave a bit of a flourish, teasing and playful, but with a little weight behind his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Well, happy to make your actual acquaintance at last, then."

Sam bites the inside of his cheek lightly and takes a good look at Gavin. He's normally good with faces, but he can't say he saw the Elf at Haven. Then again he often had his nose to the grind stone, or was off on an errand. And there was a fair amount of people there. Though he doesn't doubt that Gavin had seen him, he did stand out to a point.

It's the change in Gavin's eye that bring him back to the conversation. He sighs lightly, knowing that look. A lot of people had it lately. "It's good to meet you, too, Gavin. If you don't have anything pressing... I could buy you a drink or something? Least I can do for sending you to the ground."

That offer immediately got a wide smile, honest and warm.

"I will never turn down a drink," He said with a laugh, "Though you shouldn't worry about making it up to me. Let's have a drink in the name of future friendship, instead. What's your poison?"

"I will have to keep that in mind. Alright, a drink for future friendship." Sam smiles at the prospect, but quickly makes a face at the follow-up question.

The hand once again going up to rub the back of his neck. "Tentatively... figuring that out? Not the biggest drinker." He raises a brow. "We are talking about alcohol, right?"

Gavin laughed, and slipped an arm over Sam's shoulders as he led him to the tavern.

"Yes, I mean alcohol. Don't worry. We'll get you started on something mild, and potentially disgusting, but it gets better as it goes, I promise. Have you ever tried Ferelden beer?"

"Oh. That sounds... lovely." Sam doesn't try to hide the look on his face at the idea of swallowing some 'potentially disgusting'. That doesn't sound fun at all, but Gavin seems pretty thrilled by the idea.

"Can't say I have. Kind of left Ferelden before I even considered drinking and the Circle doesn't have such things. Least not for Mages."

Gavin laughs - the look on Sam's face is half the point of drinking it - but soon his grin changes into a look of curiosity.

"You're a mage, then?" He asked, honestly curious, his eyebrows raising. "To be honest, even having been here for a while, I don't know many of them. The ones we have in our clan are ah - different than human mages, a bit."

Sam tilts his head and looks at Gavin with equal curiosity. "A bit? Can't say I know many Dalish mages to know how different we are."

There's a slight pause in his step when they get to the tavern door. Pulling away from Gavin's arm a bit he walks ahead to hold the door open. It's only when they get inside that Sam realizes how cold he had gotten standing outside after working.

"To answer your earlier question, yes, I'm a mage." His brows raise in amusement, not at all surprised that Gavin hadn't noticed just by looking at him. "Guess I don't look the part unless I'm swinging around a giant stick. At least that's what people tell me."

"Well, they're our clan leaders, for one," He said helpfully, before stepping back while Sam opened the door, and slipping inside after him. The warmth billowed up around him like a blanket, and he smiled at it.

"To be honest, I try my best not to make assumptions until there are fireballs in the air," Gavin said with a grin, before nodding toward a table and taking a seat at it, waving to the bar tender. "But no, 'Mage' isn't exactly the first thing that comes to mind, seeing you."

"Not all mages throw fireballs." Sam grins at that as he follows behind Gavin. He did, but he wasn't about to say that. Not yet at least.

Seeing the Elf take a seat, Sam follows suit, going to the other side so that they can talk more comfortably. "'Not the first thing that comes to mind'. Well now that you said that you need to tell me what the first thing was."

Gavin offered a mischievous look and a shrug, as if he didn't know, before the bartender appeared to slide two ales onto the table in front of them. Gavin thanked him before picking up his mug, taking a long drink, and putting it down.

"Well. I didn't think mages would be quite so... built," He admitted with a grin. "Sailors, maybe. Mercenaries. Smiths--"

"I am a smith," he says offhandedly, his eyes more focused on the mug in front of him. Sam's eyes narrow in caution. He was starting to think the mugs in the tavern were his enemy.

"Well there you go!" Gavin declared. "Not as wrong as I thought, then. I--" But he paused, noticing Sam's attention had gone elsewhere, and followed his eyeline to the mug.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I just kind of assumed. Do you want something else?"

The question brings Sam's attention back to Gavin, raising a brow. "Nothing wrong with the assumption. Just not a big drinker."

Even with that said Sam takes a sip of the ale. Yeah, no, he still makes a face after trying it. "Still getting used to it. I'll live."

It's incredibly endearing, and Gavin's smile in reply is warm, crinkling at the edges of his eyes.

"Don't force yourself for my sake," He said, motioning to it. "I learned from dwarves, and they - as a whole - are about the heaviest drinkers you can come across. You get pretty acclimatized to the taste after that. So, smith you said. What kind of smith? I didn't realise mages could also be smiths, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

At the mention of Dwarves, Sam looks to the bar where Cabot is serving drinks. "I see. Well the idea of drinking sounds interesting. Guess I just haven't found that drink just yet. Or so I'm told." Another sip, another face.

Taking a break from the drink, Sam tilts his head at the curiosity Gavin has about being a couple things. "Blacksmith. The idea seems to catch a lot of people by surprise. My father is from a line of blacksmiths so it was my turn to learn. And then my magic showed up..." He gives a shrug. "What about you?"

"Well no rush, you'll find what you like eventually," Gavin said with a kind smile, before listening to the rest.

"Scout, at the moment. I uh - I guess I just sort of wander around, otherwise. Not enough to have met a mage blacksmith, apparently," He added with a half grin, "So I can mark that off my list, finally."

"I do wonder why it is such an unheard thing...." Sam grins, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward a bit. "You have a list? And that was actually on it?"

"Of course I have a list," Gavin said, which was an absolute and complete falsehood in reality, if not in sentiment. He really preferred never to write, and his list could easily be summarized in 'see everything', so technically, everything that could be seen was on it.

"And I think most people expect mages to be more - ah - delicate," He said, grinning widely. "Which is not a word I could ever use for those arms of yours. Or that chest."

Sam tilts his head and leans back to look at his arms. "My chest..." he repeats back with an amused raise of a brow. A lot of people have mentioned his arms, but not so much his chest. At least not in words.

His ears tinted red, but he soldiered on. One foot in it already, might as well go for the other.

"It's very - broad," he said, spreading his hands to demonstrate. His own was, well, not. At all. "Very uh - manly - How did I get into this trap?" He asked, flashing a grin, his ears burning. "It's a good look, is my point."