[Open] My Hearth Is Yours

[judgemewhole]

WHO: James Norrington and You
WHAT: Dining with the Commander
WHEN: Throughout Wintermarch
WHERE: The Great Hall
NOTES: Nothing but 'seriously dude, you're hiding something aren't you?'

Even Templars need to eat.

And drink.

Sometimes they have to do a lot of drinking, honestly, but Norrington kept his portions of wine to a reasonable amount when he had it with his supper. He always dined in the main hall, few times with his men, but often times he came in in alone with papers and letters in which he worked upon while he broke meat and bread off and slipped it into his mouth without thinking. His pen never seemed to stop, as he scripted pages and pages of writing -- before tossing some of them aside and grumpily burning others.

Once and awhile, you could catch him with no papers at all, but a book, his head propped up on his hand and his green eyes distant as he read the words on the page and sipped from his glass of wine.

Comments

[judgemewhole]

Norrington is frowning a letter he is reading, mentally sighing to himself. Honestly, what did these Mothers expect him to do? He could no more force the Inquisition forces to do a game of Wicked Grace as he could to force them to do anything for the Chantry now. He was considering his response as, 'Go soak yourself in the Amaranthine Ocean' or 'Go Kiss A Dragon, Revered Mother', when he heard a voice at his elbow.

He looked up, seeing a familiar face, and gave Cullen a wry smile.. "Absolutely not - let me just ... make some space." He piles up the papers, into one giant pile. "There, please sit."

The man looked as aggrieved as he felt. "You look like you're having a frustrating afternoon."

[perseverances]

"I always have a frustrating afternoon," he replies as he sits, placing his cup and plate down on the table. It's not much, but truly, he's not that hungry today. He's sure he'll hear the ire of his sister and a few others because of that, but he'll take that chance.

"I hope I didn't interrupt." Motioning to the letter.

[judgemewhole]

"Hmmm, I am starting to think there ought to be some sort of association." Norrington finally pulled his own plate in front of him, glad that the food hadn't gone completely cold.

A glance at the letter, before he rolled his eyes. "Some of the Chantry Mothers are trying to convince me to convince ... well, all of you, that you need to accept the Chantry's authority now." He cut into his meat. "I was considering between telling them to jump into the ocean or to bugger off, but I wasn't sure that was the right tone to set."