Entry tags:
[open] well we could be friends, we could shake hands
WHO: Mado and you
WHAT: he's back
WHEN: early Kingsway
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: man dog dog man bird
WHAT: he's back
WHEN: early Kingsway
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: man dog dog man bird
I. I keep 'em close (for Ellie)
Maker only knows how long he's been flying, or if he spent the whole time as a pigeon, but when Mado returns to the Gallows it's in this form, late at night, and he makes a beeline for a familiar window of the tower.
Fluttering onto the sill, he nudges the glass open with his beak, and, seeing that (I'm taking a liberty here) she's still awake, pecks lightly on the windowframe to alert her of his presence.
II. I keep 'em real close (OTA)
After a two-month absence, it feels strange to simply come strolling back into work and wave hello to everyone who may or may not have missed or even noticed he was gone, so Mado opts to ease back into his presence in the Gallows by spending most of his time in canine form. Those who greet him are bound to see a quick transformation and receive a hug (or a handshake, or simply a hello, whatever they prefer), but to all other parties there simply is a little brown and white dog where there wasn't before, trotting about the courtyard, sleeping by fireplaces and under carts, and occasionally sitting perfectly still to watch the passersby with an uncanny awareness in his canine face.
III. So no one can take them from me (OTA)
There's still one realm where his human senses outperform his canine ones, and that's up in the Scouting office, where Mado sits placid and cross-legged as he leans over what, at first glance, might appear to be paperwork: and on a closer look, one might identify it as the Trade alphabet, dutifully written over and over, with each iteration finding new clarity.
There is a separate parchment with very simple words copied from a book, and also his name in both its forms, Amador and Mado, written in careful columns to practice the shape of the words.
He seems quite serene as he works, but is never one to turn away an interruption.

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He passes over the remains of his bone, a small gift of a toy, utterly unconscious.
"But I've only been here a few months."
Long enough to know the area, but not long enough to venture far outside of it.
"Tales of werewolves, but nothing close enough to check on."
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"Oh, no, werewolves," he shakes his head, "they're something else, cursed. What we do isn't a curse, it's a choice." He pauses, realizing he's unwittingly spoken for Jude as well. "...is it?"
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"We're called "werewolves" at home if they want to be offensive. We call ourselves shifters. Usually, it's a choice."
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"Did you choose the wolf?"
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"But I choose when to shift, my wolf doesn't take me over unless it's a very, very difficult situation."
Life and death, usually.
"Then your magic is something you learned?"
But he feels like a shifter, something deeper than scent.
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"Yes. I was still something of a boy when I taught myself how-- I'd seen others do it, in my clan, so I knew it was possible."
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Jude's voice gentles, in contrast to how the rest of him sharpens. He's not one to hide his emotions, and clearly, the thought of a clan of others like them is reason for celebration.
At least until he realizes that Amador is here, and not with them.
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"My mother's family," he explains, "the Dalish clan Souvera of Antiva. Do you know much about the Dalish?"
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"Know the word, definitely gonna pronounce it wrong."
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Jude sounds equally gobsmacked, and impressed.
"Where I'm from, that's not possible."
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That's what he'd smelled- among the grass and the dog and the human- mostly human-? Had been the scent of feathers.
"What else are you?"
Not what else can you change into? It's what else are you?
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"Don't think I've ever seen a dove shifter before. Usually it's the corvids, the hawks."
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"People notice hawks, in the city," he explains, "and wolves. But a dog, a dove, a rat, they're invisible until they want to be seen."
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City-dwelling seems at odds with the rest of him, but it's undoubtedly linked to the rest of whatever story he's lived through.
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"First Rialto," he explains, "in Antiva, where I lived since I was a boy. And now Kirkwall, where the sight of a wolf is equally alarming." He grins, "but not unwelcome."
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"A smart choice," he says, his eyes softening. "Will you have forms, someday?"
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I'm just gonna tag it because the rules are made up and the points don't matter
He relaxes slightly, slowing his bone-tapping as he looks over Jude's face.
"I'm very glad to have met you, Jude Adjei."
the real mvp
It makes him desperately homesick.
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"It's more common than ever now, to see mages living about with the regular folk," he reasons, "with the way things were run before the war, it was more difficult for us to find each other. To know who else was a mage, unless they were in a tower or secreted away in the forest. Perhaps there are more than we imagine."
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Should it really be so confusing, when it's so simple?
"So you're a mage and a shifter?"