Skyhold

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone & everyone
WHAT: Open post for business as usual around Skyhold
WHEN: The first couple weeks of Harvestmere, 9:41 (aka October)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Please mark any necessary content warnings in thread subject lines. Also, make sure to check out the other log posts already made!

Far from the glamorous adventurous world-saving people signed up for, most of the hustle and bustle in Skyhold at present is cleaning. The Great Hall is a disaster, and crews are assigned to haul out the cracked and rotting planks fallen from the wide-open roof, and tear down the vines covering the walls. Ivy encrusts the main staircase outside and many of the fortress walls and is cleared in section while other groups assess or begin shoring up the stonework as it's revealed. There are scaffolding to build, materials to sort, crates to unload, tents to stitch together or set-up, and on and on and on, endless mundane chores vital to the survival of the organization.

When not hard at work, people cluster around fires across the courtyards. Many mingle freely, going about their business, running errands and messages, planning scouting missions, tallying up supplies, distributing or playing with the sending crystals that were found in a basement vault and which a group of mages have just today finished preparing for use. Once a good number have been passed around and the first Inquisition-wide transmission made messages start being broadcast; maybe you can help someone out.

The rebel mages and renegade templars mainly keep to themselves at opposite sides of the complex given the choice. Mages assist with healing and research and bicker amongst themselves about their options and their fate. Templars help train recruits in swordforms and basic combat techniques or spar with the more advanced and bicker amongst themselves about their options and their fate. Despite having all pledged themselves to the Inquisition, they still feel like separate factions and tension between them is palpable wherever they cross paths.

Like at meals, or the communal message board in the courtyard, or at the Herald's Rest. The mess hall/tavern is so new it still smells of sawdust, and its stock has been limited to one type of strong ale until today, when a shipment of West Hill brandy has finally arrived. The mood in the place is convivial in celebration of that, but there's still plenty of muttering, especially as the night drags on and the discontented get further into their cups.

Comments

[vir_tasallan]

Quietly she wished Cyril wouldn't mind scooting closer, but she knew and appreciated the respect shown her. She had been a First, she needed to at least maintain some appearance.

It was a bit lonesome, but thinking about that would make her pout. Very not Keeper-like

Neither was giggling softly at how he was looking after her. But she did it anyway.

"Y'think the dwarf bartender would mind? The table is looking at me like my cheek should set on it and get comfortable. How inviting!"

[el_tybs]

Sam looks up from glaring at his mug at the question. "What? No!"

His eyes go wide and he raises his hands to... do something but stops short. At a loss for what to do he rubs the back of his neck. He is very confused on what to do in this kind of situation.

Sam sighs heavily, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"I'm... very glad to see you. I just..." Sam makes a face then looks at Cyril curiously. "I had just... assumed we wouldn't see each other again? Ugh." With his free hand Sam once again rubs the corners of his eyes.

Putting his hand down he pouts, but his eyes narrow seriously. "I'm not used this kind of thing."

[perseverances]

"That is just the question I was about to ask you," he responds in kind, looking up from his reports. He really doesn't mean to be intimidating, but it comes with the territory. Any title can make people feel uneasy, and that is not what he wants. He needs to be more approachable, as he's so reminded by his peers, so he raises a hand to ease the elf.

"Easy. No need to salute. But I need to mention you should have been a bit farther along. Is there a holdup?"

[el_tybs]

[Sam's eyes widen at the mention that the particular move being able to split a man in two. Not a very pretty picture, and Sam is very imaginative.]

Wow. Well glad that, that did not happen out there. Probably would have ruined the rest of that guy's day.

And mine.[Sam thinks with a mental cringe.]

So good at splitting things. Is there anything that could counter it?

[slipshot]

There was always a hold up, with Gavin. Always. That being said, at least this time it was a semi-legitimate one. He blushed faintly as he lowered the hand, and then took a step backward.

"Ah - of a sort, yes. I think it's just easier if I show you..." He moved out of the way to give Cullen a better view, and then pointed down at the nest, tucked in among the rubble.

"I thought I'd move them into the courtyard, but if I do that and the parents don't see...."

[perseverances]

[It doesn't help that the scout Cullen might have been talking to - or rather reprimanding, at this point - scurries away with a look of fear on his face. Cullen expects orders to be followed, and if you're not going to, then he really doesn't need to be reminded of incompetence.

He turns to Bruce suddenly, the stern look on his face being replaced with something far more approachable.]

Yes?

[samahl]

Cyril tilts his head a bit and then, very slowly, he settles a hand on Sam's shoulder for a moment. He squeezes very lightly, trying to give him some sort of physical reassurance.

"You still enjoyed your time with me, didn't you?" he asked carefully. "It isn't something you regret?"

[perseverances]

While Cullen didn't mind looking at reports nearly every hour of the day, his eyes were beginning to get tired. He rubbed at his face with a gloved hand, sending most of the scouts away. It was in a rare moment that he let his shoulders slump, and then he stretched. There were not enough hours in a day for him to get everything done, sadly.

He looked upwards to make sure no other scouts were coming, and that's when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face. One of Hawke's companions, he remembered. Granted, he hadn't seen her since Kirkwall, since the night Knight-Commander Meredith went mad from the red lyrium, when everything turned upside down. He wasn't sure it was her, however, so he called out. "Merrill?"

[rathercommon]

A. The Herald's Rest
[ There is one little ray of sunshine in this place, and it's the little dwarf girl behind the bar.

Kitty can't say, honestly, that she's delighted to see the state of this place. She'd sold her few meager possessions to buy a pony and a merchant's cart and a meager stock of trade goods, to provide cover as to why she was coming to Skyhold; she'd made a lot of exclamations, upon arrival, about how much safer it seems here, how she's so much more comfortable staying put behind these big thick walls. But the Inquisition is far from the proud, world-changing force she'd anticipated. They're dysfunctional and squabbling. She'd come here to investigate whether this was the avenue for changing the world that she'd hoped for, and she's finding...

Well. It's early days, yet. She needs to find out more. Listen more. And so for all outward appearances, Kitty the Barmaid, simple topsider who doesn't even have a last name, is nothing but cheerful to be here. She is a listening ear and a quick hand pouring drinks and ladling up stew. She is quick jokes and quick laughter. She calls out to the newest entrants - ]

Hey! You there, get over here. You need a drink, don't you.



B. In amongst the books
[ She's a different sort of creature when she's off work. At work in the tavern, she's cheerful, outgoing, energetic, engaging. Out on the grounds, she's quieter. Not unfriendly. She doesn't skulk about, exactly. She just moves quietly, doesn't engage with anyone. She walks with purpose, nods only cordially and then moves on.

Her destination is one that would make this whole expedition worthwhile even if the Inquisition comes to naught. They have books. Kitty hasn't been able to find out where they're from - if they were here when Skyhold was uncovered, or if they were brought by the scholars and the mages. But oh, there are so many, and they're just free for anyone's perusal. They're not for the high-caste, they're not for the wealthy, they're not for the laetan and the altus, they're just for everyone.

And so, when she gets to the library, she pulls a book down off the shelf. And for a moment, she just stands, touching its cover, face twisted in far too much emotion for someone staring down at On the Care and Breeding of Messenger Birds. ]

[ombranera]

...There was absolutely no innuendo in that whatsoever. Not even a little. Not a lick.

How- how did one so casually offer to handle a massage in all due kindness and compassion without so much as an eyebrow waggle or seductive draw? Now that the bright shine of 'Andraste preserve me, that NECK' is also somewhat lessened- a very particular sense of Zevran's was speaking to him.

This.


This was a virgin.

Maker's breath, was it Satinalia already?

"No, no, by all means. Touch me however you like, whenever you like."

[serannas]

"I don't seek them out either." At least not the ones still in their armor. If she's spoken to one in plain clothes accidentally, they haven't made it known that they're a Templar. "And so far, no one has said anything to my clan. It's possible we're not noticed with so much to do here."

[mythalenaste]

No, I--

[She ventures a little closer.]

I'm curious. I don't see many mages here actually studying magic, just using it.

[el_tybs]

"No." Sam's words are firm and confident, maybe a bit hurt that Cyril would even think that. Sam lets out a soft breath through his nose, his eyes softening a bit. That wasn't fair. He probably gave Cyril that idea by how he was acting. But how was he to act?

Sam smiles lightly, tilting his head towards the shoulder that Cyril was squeezing. He wanted to reach up and touch the hand, but judging by how softly Cyril was touching him it meant there was a need for some distance.

Maybe that was it. He was reading the distance. There was something else though. The word 'shem' quickly crosses his mind.

"Yeah. I still enjoy it."

[perseverances]

Now Zevran is a face he has not seen in some time, and he definitely recalls the last time he saw the rogue. Cullen wasn't in his best form back then, considering there were demons roaming the halls of Kinloch Hold and he had just been, well, tortured for lack of a better term. Zevran's rewarded with a slight reddening of his cheeks, a roll of Cullen's golden eyes, and his arms crossing over his armor.

"That depends on the time of day and what report I'm reading, quite honestly." Oh look, he's regained his sense of humor.

[samahl]

Cyril smiles then and then rubs that shoulder for a moment before pulling away. "Good. I had thought... maybe you had time to consider it and wanted your first time to be more than just romp in the woods." He offers Sam an apologetic look.

"Or that you had thought of me as a mistake you wouldn't want to face again." He shrugs a bit. "You wouldn't be the first to feel that way."

Despite the fact that he's dismissing himself so easily, he doesn't seem too torn up about it. He's very matter-of-fact. "But I did really like you, Sam. You were sweet before and after. If you think you can manage it, I'd like to see if you and I can be friends."

What he is saying is very sincere. He doesn't want to just shove Sam away and pretend that he doesn't exist. But there is also a certain level of boundary setting there. Friends. Nothing more than that.

[mythalenaste]

A faint smile. "Accidents happen even to me."

[samahl]

"Oh? Now you have to share," Cyril replies, grinning a bit as he shifts to make the affection they are showing one another more comfortable.

[samahl]

Cyril grinned at the giggle, because it's just too charming. "I don't know. Think we should try to get some pillows and blankets and see what he says?"

[ombranera]

"Ah, he blushes. And quite handsomely as well!" Whether from mortification or annoyance, who could say. From what he recalled of the Desire Demon's torments Cullen had been decidedly on the other side of the border and quite comfortable there, but a little playful teasing between associates hurts exactly no one. "And were you to read a contract of loyalty from a former Antivan Crow?"

Not that he has one- but he could write one.

[mythalenaste]

"Not your kind of friend, Cyril. Regular friends. For friendships where nobody sleeps with each other."

[salvatore_underfoot]

"I can handle it, thanks." He says it as he tries to take the canvas back and balance his crate at the same time, which upends the crate, which is of course too full for such a maneuver, and half the contents topple out.

He sucks in a breath and rights the crate before he can lose anything. "And now that I've dumped my manhood at your feet, yes, help would be wonderful."

[samahl]

"What?" Cyril asked, making an obvious show of pretending to be offended. "I have plenty of those."

[theonly]

"I see that you're eating right now."

His eyebrows raise, not quite argumentative but there is the silent question of why she feels the need to tell him what he can already see. He turns his eyes back to the mages -- there is not much difference in his expression beyond perhaps a tightening of his jaw. "From one of the Orlesian Circles, then?" Not really his responsibility as she would be an Orlesian knight-commanders or Templar, but in these times, does it matter?

"I come to see how the mages are." His gaze settles on one of the apprentices. "She looks a little young. Do you know if she has had her Harrowing yet?" Because that is something that will have to be continued here, isn't it? Order and routine to be maintained for the good of everyone. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade, then returns to looking to the young woman as he waits for her answer.

[kremdelacreme]

"The Chief and I have been discussing how to improve morale, we just have to get a few more men in on it. Not hard, considering how many are here." Krem turned on his stool to lean his side against the bar and face Korrin. "If you're good with siege equipment, I'll have to ask you to help out."

[el_tybs]

Sam frowns at how easily Cyril dismisses himself, but before he can say anything Cyril says something that makes Sam stop. It's the past tense phrasing that gets him first. And then there is that word.

Ah. That was what he was sensing.

Somehow when Cyril had simply disappeared after that night it had not bothered him. It seemed like a sure thing. He had been right.

But now the Elf was sitting here and talking to him. Like something was coming back. Hopeful. He was wrong. An odd but familiar feeling.

"Friends," he repeats the word slowly, and then Sam grins and chuckles.

He's good at that.

"I would really like that. Cyril. I take it that this drink is on you then?"