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

[quietblade]

[Taas does definitely rely much on fear when he fights, letting people see the stereotype of a qunari warrior - powerful, ruthless, like a mad animal.

Yet there's so much more to it. He knows how to read movements, knows just how much a full set of armor hinders a person compared to nothing but breeches and shoes. Sauveterre is quick, but he bends easier, slamming down the axe and using the weight of it to avoid the thrust. It's a bit close and there's a thin line cut from the leathers, but he doesn't give a fuck.

Instead he uses the movement after that thrust to pretty much body slam Sauveterre hard, trying to knock the templar over.]

[samahl]

Cyril took note of that reaction and reminded himself to stop. He wasn't used to having to wheel it in as much, but the last thing he wanted was to make things more difficult for Sam. Perhaps trying to be his friend was the wrong choice?

But seemed too late to take that back now, and Sam could probably use someone to look out or him. That feeling of protectiveness only got worse with what Sam said then.

"That fear... It must be exhausting. To think that you can't even rest when you sleep..."

[el_tybs]

[Reading his lips. The words make Sam look up from where he's inspecting the weapon. Not quite understanding he tilts his head.]

You're doing- Oh!

[His eyes widen in surprise as he finally gets what's going on. The initial shock is quickly replaced with curiosity.]

Sorry, I didn't realize... You can read my lips? Fascinating. Is it difficult if you don't recognize the language?

[el_tybs]

"I'm sure I'm not the only one. Just doesn't get talked about a lot."

Sam rests his chin on his hands then motions with his head for Cyril to take a seat next to him. Regardless of how things transpired he was glad to see the Elf again. He'd just have to figure a few things out.

"Least with 'shems' if they hear you're having issues with demons you're watched like you'd blow up any moment."

[quietblade]

I can.

[He takes the axe again, hoisting it up over his shoulder.]

...but if I don't know the language, it's pretty impossible. I can do it in Trade and Qunlat, though. Keeps me from being useless even if I can't hear.

[samahl]

Cyril is careful as he sits, not wanting to get too much into Sam's personal space.

"That Dalish treasure our mages," he says, carefully. He isn't sure how much he can explain that Sam would understand. "Keepers are mages and they hold the history of Our People."

[el_tybs]

You can't hear anything? At all?

[Sam is trying his best not to smile. He's not glad the Qunari cannot hear, but he is enjoying the conversation.]

How long did that take to learn?

[equanimiti]

[Everything that one could use to describe Taashath is the complete opposite for Knight-Commander Sauveterre. He's cerebral, caluclated, and efficient. It's rare for the man to give into his emotions except for that one unfortunate evening.

The Mage-Templar war left its scars upon this man both physically and emotionally. That night was the only time that Sauveterre was overwhelmed with such loathing, such hate. His rage helped him overcome the long night but drained him to his core. He vowed during the aftermath of the slaughter not to let such anger consume him again.

This is why he's so placid while facing off against a man who could easily crush his skull.

The crystalline edge of the Iceblade scrapes noisily against the edge if Taashath's axe like steel against steel. The sharp screech rings in Sauveterre's ears as he quickly retreats the Iceblade in favor of striking with its' sister blade. However, the Knight-Commander finds himself forced to retreat now that Taashath has the momentum in his favour.

Sauveterre is successfully pushed back almost body slammed to the ground if he hadn't trusted the Melody Moon upward. While the sword lacks the same reach as the Iceblade, it would probably hurt enough to force the qunari back.]

[quietblade]

Nothing.

[Not completely true, but the amount of sound needed to hear something out of the ear that wasn't completely dead would be in the explosion level of loud.]

I knew some before I lost my hearing, and then about five years to get to this level. You either learn or you die in my line of work.

[el_tybs]

Sam turns his head to look at Cyril, listening intently.

"Keepers are the... leaders or other of your Clan, right?" His words are equally careful. He isn't very well versed about the Dalish except for what he's read or from the few he did get to talk to at Skyhold. Last thing he wants to do is insult anyone.

[el_tybs]

Ah. I can see why you had assumed I was coming to challenge you a bit ago.

[That made a bit more sense. His eyes weren't fully open when he approached, and he was probably used to guys only coming up to him for a beating.

Sam extends a hand and smiles.]

Here I'm boring you with questions and I haven't properly introduced myslef. Samouel.

[colecomfort]

[He sits back, folding his elbows over his knees, still looking up.]

I'm Cole.

[And you're dangerous. He can't tell how just yet, but he can feel the danger underneath, like a wind howling through a deep cave. He knows the man can feel it too — it's why he answers so slowly, listens to his heartbeat, breathes calm into himself.

Dangerous things are not all bad — especially when they know they are.

He looks down again after a pause. Glances sideways, to the nearest cluster of people.]

They can't hear us. Can't see. If they ever notice, their eyes slip away.

You were in a Circle. You know about spirits.

[samahl]

"That's right. They are also our guardians and protectors. In Clan Ashara, the Keeper has children of her own and many of us were raised by the Clan collectively. That makes us... feel much more like a family." He isn't sure if that's the case for other Clans. He can only really speak to his own experiences.

[el_tybs]

Sam thinks about that for a moment. "So the others that came with you, from Clan Ashara... are like your siblings?"

[samahl]

He nods at that. "Except for Pel. She's more like a very close older cousin." Another short pause. "She is also really my cousin. Our mother's were related."

[el_tybs]

Sam snorts at that. 'Sort of' and 'actually' are two different things. Shaking his head in amusement Sam leans a bit more on hand and smiles at Cyril.

"I'm an only child so I don't know what that's like. What kind of people are they?"

[samahl]

Cyril thinks on that. "They're all very different. Beleth is the Keeper's daughter. She's very pleasant to be around." He leaves out the part where she's likely feel very different about Sam if they met. He doesn't need to know what the elves are really like when they aren't around humans. "Ellana is very sweet, and she's probably love to get to know you." That, at least, is very honest. "Merrick is... Merrick is the one I'm closest too, but if you meet him you should probably leave out the part where you and I were intimate."

[savethecat]

"Promise I'll be gentle, you let me know if it hurts too bad, okay?"

While that could almost certainly have been an innuendo from anyone else, it continued to be the same unwavering sincerity and concern of before.

Gorse still had some dirt on his hands so he wiped them off on his pants first before scooting to kneel behind Zevran and very carefully work at the muscles of his shoulder, watching for any sign of pain so he wouldn't hurt his new friend.

[savethecat]

Gorse grinned at the sight of Korrin, pleased as punch to see a familiar face.

"I'd be very much appreciative. Thank you kindly." stowing his lists back into his pack for safekeeping, Gorse cheerfully followed along with the other Vashoth to see where the mage tower was. Of course, she would know. "I imagine it seems like it ain't helping much because it's helping so much we can keep finding other ways for it to help, you think?"

Chronic optimist, this one was.

[savethecat]

Gorse's own bedroll was moved on the regular, thrown down wherever he'd sleep that night and packed up to go again in the morning. He spent more time out in the field, often as not, so it didn't make sense for him to take up prime sleeping real estate in Skyhold when those that were there more often might need it more.

He did like the gardens though - the place that would eventually be a garden - and the hard work was enjoyable there. Real progress to be made.

Nevermind that he sputtered a bit when he got a faceful of weeds from apparently out of nowhere. That was a surprise to be sure.

[savethecat]

That I am! Signed up and everything all official like, 'parently I'm pretty useful to have around. [This makes him unreasonably pleased.] I was worried I wouldn't be able to do nothin' out here.

[el_tybs]

Sam's brows narrow in concern at hearing that last part and leans back just a bit. "Is that... a human thing, or a 'don't touch Cyril period' kind of thing?" He's not about to go around saying anything about what they did in the past, but he doesn't particularly like the idea of having a Dalish Elf coming to maim him if word did get out.

"Or is it... something else?" Sam doesn't say it but he's leaning towards jealous ex-lover? Cyril did say they are weren't related, just raised together.

[samahl]

"It's a... protective brother who is skilled with sharp blades sort of thing," Cyril explains. "Merrick knows I make my own choices when it comes to my body, but he may be wary around you if he knows. There's no need to lie to him though. He has very little patience for that sort of thing."

He pretty much ignores the insinuation that he and Merrick might be lovers. That's a whole layer of complexity he doesn't want to get into.

[el_tybs]

"Good to know. Is there a description... or something that I could recognize him by? Dalish elf with killer pointy blades isn't much to go on." The easiest way would probably to yell out what he did and just follow the murderous intent. Not a wise thing to do.

[samahl]

Cyril chuckled a bit. "He has brown hair, blue eyes, and a scar over his lip. His vallaslin is just over one eye. The design is like this." He traces the Sylaise design that Merrick had picked out years ago.

He lets his finger linger on his face for a moment as he considers Sam. For a moment, he thinks about how much he wants to reach out and trace the design over Sam's face, just for an excuse to touch him. Instead, he lets his hand drop.

"You might also know him because he glares quite often. At everything."