faderift | You know I said it in a prayer like a war cry

WHO: KREM and basically THE ENTIRETY OF SKYHOLD
WHAT: Krem is coming back from his private mission in Antiva and fulfilling some promises.
WHEN: 18 Wintermarch and onward
WHERE: Various places about Skyhold
NOTES: Attractive shirtless men?

He was stiff, sore, not exactly moving well, but when he finally mounted the stone bridge leading into Skyhold, damned if the smile on Krem's face wasn't as brilliant as the glare of sunlight on the snow. It was damned good to be home. He'd held up a hand when one of the front gate guards offered to run inside and inform the Iron Bull of his return, letting them know that he would be seeing Bull himself, as well as most anyone else that needed to know he was home.

As soon as all was said and done and the appropriate parties warned (Except for Cullen, Cullen could be just as surprised as everyone else) the toys would be collected, loaded en mass into the catapult, and seconds later, there would be stuffed toy nugs in a large variety of different fabrics hitting the ground with squeaks bordering on deafening in volume from the sheer amount of them. There would be enough for every child in the hold, plus a good portion of the adults that might come along and pick them up.

-Training Ring-

It was time for drills now. He had the ring to himself, most people were off and occupied elsewhere, and someone had set up a practice dummy at the edge of the ring that would make the perfect partner for a bout of shadow boxing.

Anyone that had ever witnessed Krem's drills before knew that sound: the maul swinging through the air fast enough for it to be faintly whistling, occasionally thudding down into the dirt. But if they approached, they'd immediately notice a difference. Where was Krem's armor?

Bracers on, boots grinding into the dirt, gauntlets on, but other than a pair of comfortable breeches, Krem wasn't actually wearing his armor. In the late afternoon light, the muscles of his arms, back, shoulders, and chest were gleaming faintly with sweat. He'd been at this for a little bit now, and it had warmed up just enough that he actually could break into a sweat as he trained. He was still trying to get used to his center of gravity changing, and as such was moving more carefully than usual. It lent a sort of grace to his movements that wasn't usually present.

If anyone wanted to come and spar with him now, they would have to get his attention first. He's entirely focused on the mild ache of his muscles, and moving to compensate.

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"Are you kidding me? Salem would make me work for the cheek." Katniss shook her head a little, "Unless you're talking about Merrick and I'm fairly certain he'd trip me so I'd fall on my face." She leans against the post, breathing deeply, as she swept sweaty away from her face.

Her gaze goes pensive. "Am I pushing myself too hard?"

"Either of them, really," Krem chuckled, though he let it go at her question, crouching down there beside the water with his cup between his hands, empty and turning over and over in his fingers.

"You're not leaving yourself much time to sit and breathe. If you're not careful, you will end up pushing yourself too hard. If you burn out, there won't be anything left of you to give for the real fight."

She breathes out, as she looks up to the sky. "And the real fight is where it matters most."

A puff of breath, coming out from her lips. "Krem ... have you seen a lot of wars? Taken a lot of people's lives?"

The question takes him by surprise, and he has to think about how to word his answer before he speaks.

"Wars, no. I'm not quite old enough to have participated in more than one. Skirmishes are different, seen plenty of those. If you're asking how much blood's on my hands..." he sighs, straightening back up and starting to walk around the training ring. "I've killed more since joining up with Iron Bull than I did in the army. But this feels...better, I suppose. It's not fighting some asshole magister's battle for him. And a lot of the killing we've done was more along the lines of rogue creatures and factions. A bit cold to think of it like this, but it's become a bit like pest control, at least in my mind."

Katniss nodded her head, folding her arms over her chest as she looked down at Krem, then across the way again. Her gaze is less shocked and more pensive, as she started t follow after him as he moved.

"I've killed the undead, and darkspawn. My fair share of animals -- and until just this year? I had never killed a single person." Her grey eyes narrowed. "Then the mages and the templars went mad -- and it was the only way to protect myself, and my sister from them. Now we're going to kill a lot more people - Red Templars, Venatori, Corpheyus's loyal followers. And it's war."

A soft sigh. "Is that how wars are supposed to feel? Like pest control?"

"No," he sighed in kind. "They're supposed to feel...I don't know. Like you're doing something important. Protecting people. This isn't much of a war though. More like cleanup."

Katniss exhaled slowly at that, before nodding her head. "So ... sooner or later, we're going to find ourselves in the thick of the actual ... war?"

He nodded. He couldn't lie for the sake of her comfort, she'd see right through it. "So the best we can do is be prepared, but don't wear ourselves out doing so."

"Find a balance between life and the fight." She sighed quietly, as she looked over at him, "It's really not as easy as it looks, is it? I suppose though -- if all we did was focus on the fighting we would forget what we are actually fighting for."

You know I said it in a prayer like a war cry

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