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WHO: Korrin and anyone.
WHAT: Korrin helping restore/exploring Skyhold
WHEN: Now or any time within the past two weeks.
WHERE: Skyhold, naturally. All over.
NOTES: Any previous CR from TDM is welcome. Or, since she's traveled all over, if it'd you'd like them to have already met, just let me know and we can talk details.

The Inquisition's recent history would have anyone reeling, and Korrin Ataash is no exception. Present for that last night at Haven and the trek to Skyhold, the Vashoth mage has those memories firmly in mind, though she can't bring herself to talk about it with anyone. Instead, she focuses her attention outward, into being productive. Need debris moved, doorways cleared, a walkway restored? Just ask the nearby mage, who is all over the fortress helping out however possible. She doesn't seem to mind conversation either, as long as she's allowed to work and talk at the same time.

While she can and does go on for long stretches, Korrin isn't exhaustible or unreasonable about taking breaks. Even during said breaks she's not idle, though, preferring to explore Skyhold bit by bit. She can be found poking about almost anywhere, but the Undercroft, Armory and Training Grounds -and, naturally, the tavern- are the most likely targets of her interest. And of course if there's anyone who looks especially lost or in need of assistance, she'll be there to help.

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Finding room for a proper workspace in Skyhold is difficult. Too near the healers and he runs the risk of someone coming to him for poultices when he has nothing of the sort, too near the smith and the noise disrupts his focus, the sparring grounds is full of the curious, the tavern- one should NEVER grind herbs for poisons in a tavern as a rule- and now that he's finally found somewhere that might work?

It is full of broken stone, brambles and branches. And he without the use of one arm under pain of Bruce being quite cross with him. Much as he hates to impose- he must request aid. Someone points him in Korrin's direction and- well that name had sounded vaguely Qunari and there she is, tall, severe, dangerous. And utterly gorgeous. "I do not suppose I might borrow a bit of your time?"

Korrin's found as she's taking a sip from her flask, not exactly in break-mode so much as just not interested in dehydration. She sees no point in running herself ragged, even as she'll keep going as long as reasonably possible. There's always something to be done around here and letting it go when she has the ability to take care of it just isn't her style.

Lowering said flask, she eyes her sudden company, easily recognizing the accent as she's been in and around Antiva many times. Her own is more reminiscent of the Free Marches, Starkhaven aside. She nods, encouraging him to continue. "Just don't tell me someone else fell from the rookery. Passing below that place is starting to make me nervous."

"Ah, no. My request is considerably more grounded." He does his level best to look small and endearing, though the effectiveness of this on a Qunari is something he hasn't quite tested before. There is a first time for everything he supposes. "I was wondering if I might beg your assistance with clearing an area? There is some debris that, sadly, I cannot move myself due to-"

Well. He gestures to his arm, held tight against his side for the moment. "An unfortunate injury."

Tucking the flask away, Korrin frowns in concern as she glances to that arm. "Of course, but are the healers too busy to tend to one more? I can't say I know their trade, but I still have potions. You're welcome to one, if it means one more person not suffering around here."

There's no hesitation on her part as she scoops up her supply bag to retrieve one for him. Korrin may have one hell of a resting bitch face and be a stranger to tact, but she's not heartless. "Lead the way, I'm hardly on my last legs."

"I have seen a surgeon for it already but he was quite strict as to what I was and was not to do wit my arm until it is mended." Unfortunately that covered 'moving things out of the way to get on with the business of preparing for murder.

He might do some work, but not as much as he'd like. Alas. "It is not far, you have my gratitude Ser...?"

Korrin nods, a little more at ease upon hearing the explanation. "At least you aren't one of those idiots who think they can just overcome with sheer willpower. I've dragged a few of those over in the beginning, but I have no time to babysit people. And I'm Korrin Ataash, of the Valo-Kas company...though just Korrin will do."

She won't take offense if he doesn't recognize the name, as she's the only one in the area at the moment. That might change, but she's here regardless.

"Oh no, that is a quick way to an early grave and I much prefer living." Any Crow knows better. Live with the pain, certainly, but get thee to a healer and whatnot.

Her name pricks a bit at the back of his mind- but he will ruminate on it later. It will come to him if he leaves it alone. "Korrin, a lovely name for a lovely woman. A pleasure to meet you, I am Zevran Arainai."

The likelihood of his name, this many years since the Blight, is probably slim- but he never did know who paid attention to what details of those stories.

That first comment gets her to smile in approval; Korrin can always appreciate those with some pragmatism. They make her life a little less frustrating, compared to those with no common sense. There were a few of those in her company at various points, but they never lasted long.

That name...Korrin's brow furrows as she glances to the elf more intently this time. "Zevran? That's familiar, though I don't think I saw you in Antiva. I was barely there, honestly, just passing through." What job was that for? She can't remember, but it's been a while. No, it probably wasn't related to that, but she's sure that name was heard somewhere before.....

"Well I do have something of a reputation for getting the job done neatly and cleanly in Antiva, much to the dismay of the Crows." Bad business for an independent assassin to be better at their job than they are. Still, that is their problem, not his. "Or, perhaps, you have heard the tale of the Hero of Ferelden? Occasionally the rest of us are mentioned- well. Aside from Alistair. No one forgets the funny one."

"That's what it is, from the Fifth Blight!" Korrin stops for a moment, simultaneously surprised and relieved. Seriously, that would have nagged at her all day. At least she knows now, and eyes him with new respect. "I've heard that tale, yes, or at least some of it. The important parts, like that battle at Denerim. So I take it from you bringing it up that you're not tired of being asked questions about it by now?"

Because if she can find out a little more while doing him a favor in turn, why not?

"Indeed. A marvelous adventure, that." Ah he could almost smell the mud and wet dog even now. Or perhaps that was the mold on the ruins. Who could say?

"To be perfectly honest? After a year or so passed outside of Denerim proper and a few select circles in Antiva, people began to let it lie around me. The story is much more compelling with the last of the Grey Wardens fighting the Arch Demon all on their lonesome. Not a lot of room for an elvish assassin in that particular brand of heroism."

Not much room for elves anywhere, but he does not let that stop him. "So- no I have not tired of answering questions. In fact, I would be thrilled."

"Non-humans are usually edited out of such tales sooner or later, aren't they? Such a shame, they end up leaving out the more interesting parts." Yes, Cousland saved the day and married the Queen, such a nice fairytale. That much she knows, but it doesn't interest as much as the details beyond the shining image.

"So tell me what really happened, then. What have the sanitized versions left out that you think I ought to know?" Not that she expects him to recount the entire Blight then and there, but a few interesting tidbits between energizing debris wouldn't hurt.

"Such is the way of things." He shrugs, resigned to it. One did not live among them for as long as he has without becoming accustomed to it. "What you ought to know? Ah- I do not think anyone has ever asked it quite like that. It's all been what they wished to hear- the fairy tale. The truth is far less interesting to them."

"Jonas was...a capable and pragmatic individual. Most stories paint him as a gallant hero and while he had his moments, above all else he knew what needed to be done and in the true manner befitting of Grey Wardens, he saw it done. No matter what it took to make it happen- be it reviving a golem, recruiting a Sten, a lay sister claiming visions from the maker- or an assassin that failed to kill him. The Blight needed to be stopped and he reminded us of that when we would become weary of the fight. I would not say it was heartening so much as it was 'die later, something larger than us needs to be done'." He had to admire that in him.

Korrin flashes a brief grin. "I can understand that mindset, it's common enough among my company. And I never grew up with fairytales--not the sanitized ones, anyway. The truth tends to be far more interesting, whatever it is." At least it is to her, and probably would be to the refugee children who enjoy her uncensored tales more than the bland ones the Chantry sisters tell them.

She frowns at mention of a Sten, though, shaking her head. "I know I heard about an actual Qunari among you before, but I thought that was just exaggeration. It's difficult to imagine one of them cooperating with anyone. He didn't try to convert you all to the Qun?"

"Not really, no. His mission was to understand what a Blight was and report back. What better way to fulfill that than to help us end it?" There had been discussions to be certain, but no true attempts at conversion. "It is likely he did not think us open to the Qun. We were something of a varied and opinionated group."

Well. Everyone else was opinionated. Zev was happy to not take sides at the time.

"So I've heard. It's just weird to think of a Qunari in a heroic role, given their usual one in history. As much as I might have imagined myself as one of those heroes, I'm just as glad to keep my distance from Sten, that or any other."

She's a mage, can you blame her? Korrin knows entirely too well how her kind are regarded by the Qunari, and wants nothing to do with that baggage. Her own is enough.

"You must have traveled with Sister Nightingale then, too. Was she anything like she is now?" The mysterious spymaster isn't that well known to Korrin personally, but her reputation has preceded her, of course. It's not difficult to imagine her helping end the Blight as she is now, but as a lay sister?

"Sister Nightingale? Ah- you mean Leliana. It was a decade ago and she was coming out of something quite personal and terrible- to be perfectly frank? We all were. There is not one member of Our Merry band that actually had their head on straight. I suppose that is what gives me hope for the Inquisition. People forget that their heroes are people as well. We were all of us broken in our own way. Having a purpose helped us mend." That was...unexpectedly serious of him.

Quick. He needs some frivolous humor to counteract it!

"Does she still keep a pet nug? She finds them adorable- I do believe she named the one the Warden found for her Schmooples. Terribly noisy thing. And hideous. She would wrap a ribbon about it's neck and feed it treats whenever we had the coin to spare."

It's too bad he's so quick to counteract it, because Korrin's listening intently to Zevran speak of his group in such words, eyeing him with more respect. She doesn't consider herself broken, exactly, but still, the notion that such heroes had their own problems and were still able to overcome gives her hope for the Inquisition as well. That's hope which is badly needed at the moment, even with finding Skyhold.

Mention of nugs has her wrinkling her nose. "Nugs are creepy, I don't see why anyone thinks they're proper pets. Have you seen their feet? The stuff of nightmares. I believe I did hear one of her agents talking about her having a nug, though. It might even have had the same name, now that I think about it. You'd think traveling through Ferelden would give a preference for mabari. Anything but nugs."

One cannot allow themselves to be taken too seriously, lest people come to expect it of him. He is but a pretty fool of many skills and remarkable circumstances, little else. "I have eaten pickled nug feet. It was a wager. I won ten sovereigns for being able to keep them down- honestly? I've had poisons I'd drink more readily than doing it again, gold or no."

Korrin shudders, now wishing she hadn't made that comment about nug feet. Or seen them, because now this image would always come to mind. Thanks, Zevran. "Pickled nug feet...oh, Maker, that sounds disgusting. That's not a wager I could ever stand to take, even if I'd win. Some things I never need to know about, including what it's like to have those."

So, so gross. Also a mental note to never talk about this near the spymaster. "So how many times have people asked you where the Warden is now, as though you're attached at the hip? I've heard countless bets made about him, but as far as I know, no one's come to collect."

"Well, I was young and I needed the coin." Losing the wager would have indebted him to some highly unkind people.

"Honestly? You would be the first since I have arrived." Those that knew him or of his part in the tale remembered that he was not The Warden's keeper- it had been the other way around. "There are theories to be true,but for the past six months? Nothing. He can be quite sneaky when he wishes to be."

Her eyebrow raise at that, having thought others would have pestered him about that way before herself. Not that she was prodding overmuch, but still. The subject was brought up every so often in the tavern, from snatches of conversation as she passed.

"You would know better than I or almost anyone else here, to be sure. Though Wardens have been disappearing, haven't they? I heard that was the reason for an excursion to the Hinterlands, to question one about the rest."

"Were it another ten, twenty years along? I would say he had begun to hear the Call." But it is far too early for that to be the case for Jonas- for most of the Fereldan Wardens. None of them have been in the order so long as to begin hearing the siren song of the sleeping Archdemons.

"The Call? That's the end for them, right?" Korrin's knowledge on the Grey Wardens other than that they fight darkspawn and have never had one of her kind join them is somewhat limited. Nor has it been a high priority to rectify that situation with so much else demanding her attention. But she can ask now, so.

"A warning that they are about to be overrun by the taint. Twisted into something mindless, savage. Rather than become that they go down to the Deep Roads to take as many of the Darskpawn with them." They had time yet for Jonas and Alistair. No true sentimental elf he but the idea of them needing to do that? Unsettles him somewhat. He had made an offer, once, to end it quickly and peacefully. The sputtering indignation had been more than enough to convince him it wasn't warranted. "But from the moment of joining they have thirty to forty years before that becomes a problem- it is far too soon."

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