and i still find pieces of you in the back of my mind

[paperwing]

WHO: Sabriel and semi-open.
WHAT: Sabriel goes about her business. Probably feelings. Probably talking.
WHEN: Latter Wintermarch, after she returns from Warden training with Felix and Kaidan.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: Catch-all, starters below for interested parties. If you'd like to do something, PM me or see this plurk right here and we can figure something out!

Comments

[paperwing]

The seconds it takes him to understand bring a mixture of emotions with them; dread and the desire to sink into the floor, for one, and the other the anticipation of when he does realise what they are and what they mean - because this is Scipio. And he will understand.

And then he does and she's trying to hold in the laugh as he hops about, all the sooner to wear them, she assumes. She waves her hands sideways in front of her as the praise tumbles towards her. "It is not entirely me you have to thank," she interrupts, humbly. "It was the tranquil that pieced it together. I only assisted..." yet she is not too proud to accept thanks, especially when a gift is concerned. Especially with a gift that has taken so long. "But you are welcome, Scipio. I am only sorry it was not sooner."

He doesn't need to know about the tests and the time she wore boots that did not go so well, and the nights where she sat in the library with her hands over her feet to soothe them. That she'll keep to herself.

"And I hope they are as warm as you imagined them to be."

[bunko]

"No, no--peace, Sabriel--" One boot off, he kicks it aside and hops onto his other foot, tugging at this boot now-- "It is a gift from you, yes? Not from the tranquil. It is they who assisted you, in this--and you must not apologize, not for a gift of such thought and generosity. They were not late. They were timed, perfectly--my toes have only been getting colder--"

Each declaration gets cut off a little, between hups of breath as he picks up the new boots and pulls them on. A smile jumps to his face when he feels the first hint of the warmth--enchanted warmth, enchanted boots!

"They are perfection!" One on, he stretches his foot out, toes pointed, balance secure. His other foot has its three socks to protect it from the chill, but no matter. Soon the sock foot will join its brother in boots, and o! what boots they are. Scipio scrunches his toes inside of the one, beyond pleased. His grin grows bigger still, if that is possible, as he looks to Sabriel. "I am the luckiest man in all of Skyhold--and beyond! The luckiest in all of Thedas, I think!"

laaate aghhhhh

[paperwing]

A gift from her, and he recognises that, well-timed even if late - the Inquisition will go to Emprise, soon, won't it?

"In all of Thedas?" she echoes, still amused but that's hidden by the smile that takes over, even if the boldness starts to melt away and it's the flush of her face that heightens instead.

Not that she doubts his words of luckiness. He has always seemed the lucky type, to her, but in this specifically? Hoping that he would like them and that they would fit his expectations, how she imagined this exchange to be, is not the same as it happening, or its nuances. No, she feels only pleased, satisfied at his happiness, but at a loss all the same, because that's quite a declaration to make. "But there is still the other. Perhaps that will make you luckier still."

no worries!!! pats your face

[bunko]

"Double the luck? Can it be so? I do not dare to think, let alone to hope, and yet--"

And yet. With great formality and an air of suspense, Scipio picks up the second boot. He considers it, with a critical eye, and then shifts his weight, to the booted foot alone, and carefully, so carefully, begins to pull on the boot.

The feeling of warmth is indescribable. No, he could describe, if he wanted. Hot baths--a step into the shallows of the sea warmed by the summer sunlight--the kiss of that sunlight on skin itself--sitting in front of a roaring fire, just a little too close--spiced rum, in that first warming swallow--these are all warmths that Scipio could use, should he so choose, but they would pale in comparison to the warmth of that boot. And the warmth of Sabriel's smile, which is better than all of these.

But he has great gravity in the way that he sets this second foot down, and great gravity, too, in the way he considers the experience of the wearing. A scrunch of the toes, a tip of the head.

Then he smiles.

"Yes. Luckier. I can feel it. The luckiest feet in Thedas, the luckiest man in Thedas. Double lucky, for a luck unparalleled. This is a gift that would green a king in his envy, and to think--they are mine."

u_u

[paperwing]

The suspense is enough for Sabriel to lean forward in anticipation, half grinning and squinting ever so slightly as she plays along. She watches his display with a great deal of mock scrutiny as the boot goes on, sock-foot snug and toasty warm, for that is a fact. She doubts any of those he stole socks from want them back, but with boots such as these, there would be less reason to pilfer. (Was that part of the reason she had set about doing this? She couldn't remember. It was far overshadowed by all the other reasons she could.) The doubled luck, however, is a matter for debate, and a result she will have to wait for. Even when he sets his foot down, it's the smile that tips her off that it's a yes.

She straightens, with a soft chuckle. "I would not mention it to a king, for they would likely want their own. Or yours, because there are no others." The enchantments that were chosen were easy, but the timing, the specificity of the leather, so many little things, and it could go wrong; not something to outfit an army in.

And if there were more, no pair wold be quite the same. Scipio's would be unique, because they were the first, the ones most laboured over, the gift she most wanted to give. "Though I expect they would be far less lucky to anyone but their owner."

[bunko]

"You're right, of course! How wise you are. A king would be too jealous." Thoughtfully, Scipio again scrunches his toes in the coveted boots. "Should I keep them a secret, then? I don't know that I can. I am too proud of this gift, and too proud of your work. I will tell everyone that I see, when I wear them, just what they are. And if a king should overhear, and take jealous--or any, no matter his title or his rank--I will duel him for the honor of the owning of these boots."

So it has been said and so it will happen: Scipio gives a firm nod. There is still a light of amusement in his eyes, and he is half joking, but as with all Antivans, he does love to duel. So long as he is assured his own safety, that is. And there is nothing to worry about there!

"But do you mean--is there extra luck in them, just for me?" A new wonder to consider. He looks down at the boots, as if he can see something of this luck, and then looks up at Sabriel with a new grin. "You are very clever. And I am touched, at your thoughtfulness."

[paperwing]

"You do not have to keep it secret..." she begins, because it's true that some would not believe such a pair of boots exists, but there's a brief trace of concern for those that would for the fights this could cause - spirits, has she actually diminished his safety? Is that the price for warm toes? - but his mind is clearly made up and she is too flattered by his continued praise to think of even suggesting otherwise.

Almost. "Really?" Her eyebrows raise, but she's also teasing. A half-serious question seeking a half-serious answer. "And if someone were to challenge you to a duel with your boots as the prize? Just how far would you be willing to go for them?" Antivans, she has learned, are good fighters. Not always just with a weapon, but with wit and words... not that her knowledge of Antivan people is larger than two or three, but she doubts it is wrong.

"They were made for you," she adds about the boots, not meeting his eyes as she regards them again, a frown creasing her forehead in thought. "For you, perhaps there is. Not all magic is intentional. I suppose you will find out, in time."

[bunko]

"I would go as far as I would need to go!" To the death, perhaps? To mere pain? He leaves the statement undefined, but lets the conviction of his words speak for his intent. Antivans love to declare duels nearly as much as they love the duels themselves.

Truthfully, there are few things that Scipio will not abandon. To run is nearly always the more clever choice. Items of great value are gained and lost every day--usually lost to him, and promptly resold. Wealth is fleeting. But a pair of magic boots, made with care, especially for him? He might not risk his life on such a thing. But he would risk much, and, if they were taken from him, would track them down and steal them back before they could long warm the feet of another. (Unless Rafa talked him out of doing so.)

In any case: he smiles, pleased, at Sabriel, shifting his weight from foot to foot in cheerful experimentation. "I suppose I will find out. I look forward, to the finding out. Extra luck or no, I will think of a way to repay you for this princely gift that you have given me, Sabriel. You are genius."