faderift | Wintermarch Is Always Interesting

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Wintermarch Is Always Interesting

WHO: Samouel Gareth and Anyone
WHAT: Sam celebrates the 16th quietly with a letter from home. Catching up. Work and lessons as usual.
WHEN: (Backdated to) Wintermarch 16 and onward
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES:No warning at the moment. Catch all for some CR with Sam. Birthdays are weird.

After First Day it had taken a few days for Sam to pull himself out of the weird rut he had fallen into, what with a variety of good and bad things to start off the year; seeing James and the others from Ostwick, finding out that the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander had been killed, Krem having gone off on a mission, playing in the snow with others, etc. After that Sam seemed like his old self, falling into his usual routine of various lessons, magical and otherwise, as well as work. Even so it seemed like around the middle of the month his attitude took a dip again, appearing when he wasn't actively doing anything or paying attention.

[Magic Lessons]
Lessons sure have gotten more interesting since getting back from Emprise du Lion. Sam is even more determined to progress his training in spirit healing, and the other schools of magic. Even so he still has fun with it, learning to chill his hand without freezing it for the most part, or letting the younger mages 'teach' him how to do spells.

[Sparring: Magic or Melee]
For Sam being efficient in both his magic and his physical strength together or separate were important, both himself and anyone else who might be with him on missions. What little he had learned before Emprise du Lion had certainly saved him rear, so he makes a habit in shadow sparring about every day. Anyone is welcome to give him some pointers or ~~kiss his butt~~ challenge him to a spar.

[Armory]
Without any orders, Sam has been spending less time in the armory, though he still goes in some evenings to practice. Anyone looking to have something made or just wanting to talk where it's warm are more than welcome to join or meet up with him here.

[Tavern]
Even though he isn't a big drinker Sam has been enjoying certain drinks now and again at the tavern since he isn't needed at the armory as much. For the most part he spends his time chatting to various members of the Chargers, or just sitting in their general area, listening to their stories. Otherwise he can be found a the bar, the bartender giving him a look every time he decides to just drink tea instead of alcohol.

[Baking with Christine]
Christine had mentioned that she was starting to bake. Curious to how things were going and wanting to be of some support, Sam figures it would be a nice gesture to show up. Maybe offer a hand to help her with whatever is she is planning on making.

[Sina: This is how you pot (a plant)]
Well Sam had agreed on First Day that he would help with potting and moving plants with her. Even so he hadn't been expecting to be grabbed after magic lessons by the Dalish and getting his hands dirty. Not that he's complaining, but it was unexpected.

[~~Birthday~~ The 16th]
The day before Sam let everyone know that he was planning on taking this day off, that nothing was wrong, but just needed a little time. For the most part Sam takes the chance to sleep in, wasting as much of the morning while he can, and coming out once lunch was being served. It's during his meal that he receives a letter that he tears into with a bit of urgency. Halfway through a small smile spreads across his face, though just as sad as it seems happy. The rest of the day he can be found sitting around watching other in the training ring, taking a walk along the battlements or in the tavern drinking, checking out his letter every so often.

[Wildcard]
Pick your own adventure.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Bread," she answers immediately. "It's good and filling. You can put anything on it: butter, honey, cheese, meats, fruit jam. I like seeing it rise up into this giant thing from the yeast, and when it comes out perfectly golden brown and makes a hollow sound when you tap it? It is a good feeling to know I've succeeded." She twists the pie crust ninety degrees and keeps rolling.

"But perhaps pie will become a favorite too, yes? If we are successful." She pauses to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You said your aunt made these pies? You came into your magic much later that I. I do not have as many memories of my family before. But that's all right."

"Soup," he cuts in after she mentions 'fruit jam'. Alright, well maybe you couldn't put soup of top of bread, but it certainly was good to dip in. Bread was a good staple food to learn, the talk having his stomach growl a bit, but over all he's glad to hear that Christine is enjoying all that she is learning in the kitchen.

Hearing that she didn't know her family very well has Sam slowing his cutting a bit, frowning slightly at the knowledge. He had been lucky in that regard, knowing his family and making memories before he was locked away.

"I'm sorry to hear that. My magic isn't as far along because of it, but it was nice staying with my family as long as I could."

Well, one could dip bread in soup. Putting soup on top of bread would just be messy. And Christine isn't a fan of mess.

"I am not bothered by it. They wrote to me a few times after I left, but then it became too painful for my mother to stay in contact knowing she would never see me again. And so that was the end of that. I like to imagine they've been happy. Without knowing, it's better to assume the best than the worst." Her parents had been good to her, and gave her to the Templars so she could learn to properly use magic and not harm herself with it.

"I've spoken to Adelaide about them. Before that, I hadn't thought of them in a long time. But now I wonder with the war, if they've been worried about what's become of me."

"Have you considered about writing to them then?" he inquires, dropping the peeled apple into the empty bowl before grabbing another one and starting the process over. "You are more likely to know where to send a letter then they to you. Unless you don't want to know. I get that."

Sam smiles sadly at that, remembering a while back fighting with himself about writing his family. "It's a bit scary I'll admit, but I'm glad I did it."

Christine pauses in her rolling to look up at him, a thoughtful look on her face. "I haven't. I... wonder if that would cause my mother more pain. She wanted a clean break." She sighs and rubs her forehead with the back of her hand. "My mother was always in poor health. Little things would cause her distress and then she'd end up in bed. But what if she's been worried sick? Maybe I could write my father. Put only his name on the letter. Then he could decide what to do."

What if her mother died because what happened to her daughter had been a mystery and she had been worried that Christine was killed in the rebellion of the Circles? If she's still alive, it would be cruel to withhold this from her. But then again, Christine hasn't seen her mother in over fifteen years. She can't claim to know her mother very well anymore.

"But you have? And it went well?"

Sam hums lightly in confirmation at the question, not stopping in his task as they talk. "I did. Right before we left for Emprise du Lion. I finally got a response back. Not all the news was great, but I'm glad that I did it. My aunt is doing quite fine, married with two kids and a third on the way."

The second apple soon joins the first and Sam takes that time to take a short break, giving Christine a small smile. "What you do is up to you, Christine, but writing to your dad to find out sounds like a good idea if you do it."

Christine gives a faint smile on hearing of children and new life about to come into the world in the midst of all the darkness surrounding everything. Despite what's been going on out there, life continues. It's good to hear.

She gives him a brief look and nods before letting out a laugh. "I have no idea what to say to him. I'll have to compose something in my head, or I'll waste a load of parchment." How does one say hello when she's been gone over fifteen years?

Sam scoffs at that and picks up another apple, tossing it in the air a couple times before setting to peeling it. "I certainly know all about that. Think I could have made a book with the amount of paper that never seemed to come out just right. Had a lot of people talk to me during it, too. Just... had to keep it simple. Start at one spot."

"Start at the beginning, one should think," Christine adds, deeming her pie crust to be the proper size. She pulls a pie pan close and presses it in.

"Do you think you will visit your aunt someday?"

"Yeah. Sometime in the future I plan on visiting her. When I have more time to take a trip and probably more letters."

Inspecting his recent apple, Sam tosses it into the bowl. "How many of these do you need?"

Christine's gaze shifts to look over at his work. She can't find fault in his peeling, not even to jokingly tease him about. He can be insufferable that way.

"I think two more should do it. But we must discuss the top of your pie. Would you like it completely covered with a crust, or a lattice-work design?"

Even if the pie is supposed to be his, it's still Christine's great masterpiece of the evening, so of course he's going to make an extra effort in his work.

He hadn't even considered that besides filling that pies could have a different kind of top. "What would the difference be besides taste?"

"In how it looks. A lattice-work is woven in and out. It's very pretty." Christine would prefer to make it as pretty as possible, because she's all about how things look. It must be an Orlesian thing.

"Let me get the spices." She checks the shelves and returns with cinnamon, sugar, and nutmeg, which she places in a neat little row before consulting her recipe book, a finger running down the page. She then flips it back a few, murmuring "Apples, apples," to herself until she comes across the apple pie recipe. "Ah, here we are."

The recipe is simple enough, and she sets several measuring spoons in front of Sam.

"Here; you put the spices in and I will roll out the top crust."

"Well then. If you don't mind doing the work, please feel free to try the lattice." He can hear in her voice how much more she adores that particular top, and since he's not very picky, he's willing to let Christine to do what she wants.

With the cups being set in front of him Sam raises a brow, finishing off the last of the peeling. "I take it I cut the apples first before spicing them?"

Honestly it was interesting watching Christine as she cooked. There was a certain focus she had while doing it, and she looked rather happy as she touched the ingredients and talked about the things she made. "I'm glad you found something to enjoy doing."

Her eyes dart over and she smiles at the question.

"It would make a pretty poor pie to have huge, whole apples in it. Yes, you must slice them up into thin pieces."

Back to work she goes, shaking more flour down on the counter and making another crust. She does well with things that have clear instructions. There's an order to it all, and she does enjoy order.

"In another life, I could have been a very happy housewife." In a life where she wasn't a mage, sent to a Circle and forbidden from having children.

"Or it could be an amazing pie. You just need to make everything bigger to accommodate whole, cored apples as the filling." Obviously baking does not work like that, but he's willing to have the silly conversation and be the fool if it means to amuse Christine into smiles and laughter.

"You say that like you can't still try to have that." There's still a smile on his face, but more somber, obviously knowing what she is referring to, knowing what that was like. "Not that'll it be easy, but... you don't think you wanna try? Now that we're out?"

She lets out a huff of laughter, shaking her head. That sort of pie wouldn't even be fit to feed to Ferelden dogs.

His question gives her pause, and she stares at the counter for a long moment before she looks up at him, a small bit of vulnerability showing in her eyes.

"I cannot hope. What if the next Divine reinstates the Circles as they were and we are all forced back in?" It's a fear she's expressed to Adelaide already, and not one she is finding it easy to alleviate. She loves having this freedom. She loves people talking to her like a person and some who aren't even afraid to touch her. Some act as if being a mage is a disease you can catch. She doesn't want to lose it all. When she stood with Fiona, she had hoped for peace, but instead they had to run for their lives. They were practically enslaved to Tevinter. No place but the Inquisition has felt safe to her; has felt like home. But what if it doesn't last?

"I'm not going back to the Circle." He doesn't look at Christine while he says it, the bit of smile no longer there on his face, as he concentrates on slicing the apples.

This is no light matter and Sam has given it a lot of thought, this not being the first time he's expressed this idea. If the Circles were reinstated he planned on not going back. It would be difficult considering the people he knew, and having to constantly hide who he was, but he would not go back. Not willingly.

He had a number of reasons, one of which that wasn't currently in Skyhold.

Christine studies his face and swallows back anything she might say without thinking. Like how will you survive? Where would you go that they won't find you? She turns away and bites the inside of her cheek. When the rebels fled from the Templars, they were in a big group and some people had the clarity of mind to figure out ways to keep them alive. But the Circle is a system that makes mages dependent upon it. Christine feels helpless without supplies being given to her. Yes, she's learning to cook, but she doesn't have to find out where and how to get grain to grind into flour. There is so much she doesn't know how to do on her own.

"I would worry for you," she murmurs finally. "Even though you have skills... you could hide what you are and be a blacksmith. You would do well. But still, I would worry."

There's an odd silence between them with Christine looking at him, and Sam purposely keeping his eyes on the apple as he slices. It's a difficult subject, talking about the future and where they might be when it happens. Him saying he won't go back is as tough saying as Christine saying she won't fight it and return.

"And I'll worry about you. Behind stone walls, and locked away from the world." He looks up then and gives small sigh. "There's just a bit too much out here that I can't give up if they decide to do that. I won't give them up."

"I'm not sure--" She hesitates, but then forces herself to press on. "I do not wish to return, but I'm not sure I can go through all this again. The running, going hungry, seeing others turn violent." Even at Redcliffe, there were some mages who had had enough, and suddenly there was talk of rebel mages torching houses, stealing food, and holing up in the Witchwood.

"I was lucky once. But I'm not sure I will be again. For now, I have protection, but I can't talk of someday." She can't talk of having a family of her own; not the way the world is now.

There's silence again as Sam considers Christine's words, the press of knife into apple somewhat deafening in his ears because of it. He hadn't been one of the mages that needed to run and hide, and he can't imagine what that must have been like. Even in the future he might not fully know what it's like since he's been learning, and wouldn't be keeping himself strictly to a group of mages.

"If someday does happen... and at that time you don't want to go back, I'll be sure to help." Stopping in his slicing again, he gives a small smile. This hadn't been where he wanted the conversation to go, but it was important to consider.

Having his support didn't occur to her at all, and she glances over at him, spotting his smile.

"I would... I would be most grateful for that, Sam." It's all she can think to say, but this means more to her than simple words. She didn't expect anything like real friendship with him because she always focuses or work and studies. But that's what they have, isn't it? Why is she rolling out this crust and making him a pie for him birthday? It's because they're friends.

She ducks her head a little to try to hide the prickling tears coming to her eyes as she continues to spread out the crust until it's a good size and she's forced back any strong emotions from showing.

Even if they aren't the closest of friends, Sam certainly considers the two of them to be such. Taking lessons together, discussions on their spells and work, spending time together in general, and now baking together - just not anyone baked you a pie for your birthday after all. Course there was the typical Orlesian versus Ferelden squabbles from time to time, but they were mostly amusing than anything.

He's glad to hear that Christine will consider his offer when the time comes, but right now... he hadn't meant to make her upset. Least of all he wanted to make her cry, though it seemed she was doing a valiant job of not letting herself do that.

With a sigh, Sam looks at the items on the table before his eyes fall on something in particular. After a few moments, when Christine has lifted her head he reaches over and runs a finger across her nose, leaving behind a strip of flour. "You know for someone who cooks you don't have nearly enough flour or stuff on you."

If there's ever a way to draw her from her sad mood, it's to make Christine dirty. Flour can hardly be called dirty, and yet she acts with such righteous indignation that it may as well be.

"Sam!" She jerks away from him, wiping at her nose like a cat who gets water flicked in its face. "You are such a child! I am a neat cook!"

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