faderift | Skyhold

Skyhold

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.

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Better here than Andoral's reach. Those that remained there were finding somewhere else to camp. Some risked Tervinter. Some attempted to reach Fereldan. Those that needed her and wanted to help the Inquisition? She brought. She couldn't let them travel on their own and perhaps here they might be able to study in peace.

But there are so many templars. It's disconcerting.

"...another pair of eyes is appreciated, Sam. Thank you." It's a kindness she didn't expect- but appreciates all the same. Enough that she flips the book closed in favor of tipping her head to the floor next to her. "Please, sit."

[ Merde.

Four words and the apprentices behind her cease their grinding and- as discussed on the ride here, scatter. The guilty do not run to be certain but the sane do not wait for the lion to crush their throat before showing fear.

Soon enough the tent is empty save or Adelaide and the Knight-Commander. ]

A Knight-Commander is a Knight-Commander. No matter with whom or what they cast their lot. Ser.

Taking the offer, Sam not so much slides but crawls to the spot LeBlanc is motioning for him to take. It takes a little time for him to find a comfortable position, hands resting in his lap, legs spread out in front of him, but he eventually does so.

It's quiet for a time. Now that he's here and actually talked to the older woman, he feels... a bit homesick. She reminds him of his aunt. Granted the accent is all wrong, but, it's the motherly feeling that she gives off. It doesn't help to quiet his mind though, only opens more doors for when/if he falls asleep.

He sighs, then turns his head to look at the woman next to him. "You're very amazing you know. Taking care of all those people... then still seeing to others even after the fires have died down."

[Well that was unexpected.

As the apprentices flee for dear life, Sauveterre finds himself fighting back a sigh. If there was any onlookers watching this scene unfold from outside these tents, they probably would've sworn the Blight had come to Skyhold.

It's simply absurd how pisspoor relations are within this hold! Sauveterre cannot believe how much malice, hate and distrust linger between Mage and Templar. It makes his stomach almost churn to know that these people have been tormented so.

Surely Meredith wasn't the only brute amongst the Order. If course not. There's plenty of murders within the Templar who must be brought to trial and hanged for their offenses. There will be no peace until justice is served.

None.]

Pray I mean you no harm! As Knight-Commander and simply as myself; I confess that I'm not here to hurt you in any manner or form. The same goes for your companions.

Such a simple request that will be nearly impossible to grant. [He laughed at that, and then smiled warmly at Bruce.]

But at least I can say, I'll do my best. And get out of your hair. I know you all have a lot more pressing things to worry about than a clumsy elf.

For a moment, however brief, it's almost like home. The hall is nowhere near as opulent, the temperature far too cold but- beyond the door the apprentices and mages sleep soundly, shushed from night terrors by the eldest that will take her place come the predawn. She has company that understands, to some degree, her wariness. It's familiar.

And it stings to remember how the halls had changed so quickly in the Spire. She's grateful when Sam breaks the silence.

"Compassion." A beat. "I am a spirit healer, and the spirit I work with to heal is Compassion. They are...terribly particular as to how I am to spend my time. If it will not be a detriment to my health and I've strength left in me and there is someone that needs mending? I am to mend them."

It could be a burden, that onus. But having time to work and those that need it help her from thinking of home.

Such we were told in the Spire. Such we were promised time and again that the Templars and their Commander only meant to protect us.

[ Has the air become cooler in the tent? Have the first wisps of frost come from her lips, blooming over her fingertips where they are held but a hands breadth away from the staff propped just behind her? Of course, it has, the sharp spike of winter a habitual defense amplified by Adelaide's fear and frustration. Promises made were so easy to break and she had seen them broken.

Simply saying that they mean no harm means nothing. In the fade word breeds will breeds truth. This is not the fade. ]

How are we to take you at your word?

Ah, so that was why he could hear louder whispers when he was around her. Different, but similar. A kindred 'spirit'. A goofy smile spreads on Sam's face at the pun, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"I see. I'm afraid I only hear their whispers." A sad smile then, remembering how often he was distracted as a kid by the soft noises in his ear and the other kids making fun of him for 'imaginary friends'. Remembering when the words started to become more clear when he actually started to learn magic, eyes watching him more closely for being able to hear them.

"I don't think my magic is... strong enough? for any particular one to want to partner up with me."

"That is a start. Not many mages can. And from even their whispers there is much that you might learn." It is where she started as a child, hearing things- seeing images in her dreams. Even at the circle it took time and study to understand enough to be able to take it further- something she never would have managed on her own. As a place of study they served an excellent purpose.

Without them...how are mages such as Sam to learn to make the most of their Maker given skills?

She extends a hand, a small whisp of light flaring to life over her palm. Soft, faintly blue, a little bit of Compassion. "It takes focus to understand- it's less of a question of strength and more one of comprehension. And afterward? Of agreement. We have rules, Compassion and I. I heal those I can and I do not use my magic to do harm. Ever. Defend, deflect, mend- certainly. But I cannot hurt another person with my magic. Not every spirit is the same and you may find another spirit with different requirements- or one that seeks you out because your soul sings to them. It's different for everyone."

[ He gives a soft hum. ]

Turning yourself once more into a bodyguard, like I saw you watching over that other man before Sauveterre convinced you to nearly die for his job. [ Stannis already rewarded Taas. There need be no more he needs to do with the previous task. He still frowns -- groups are no good, true enough, but be more than just dealing with heavy lifting and guarding. ]

There will be a place for you yet.

[The sudden chill in the air alarms him. Is she tapping into her magic?

Sauveterre could literally feel her cold fury upon him. It was as if Winter's Grasp sought to wring the warmth out of him. It's quite unnervingly since the Iceblade he carries mimics a similar power but not to this extent. His grey eyes shift briefly towards the healer's staff before glancing back at the terrified blond.

What should he do? Words won't pacify her and if they come to blows, the Templar will descend upon them like locust. Everything he's been struggling to undo will be lit anew all thanks to his foolhardiness. These poor healers would suffer and the Order will be further tainted in blood.

No, this cannot be allowed to happen!]

Stay thy hand!

[In a thoughtless act, the Templar kneels before the woman and bows his head. Much like a knight bestowing respect upon his lord, Sauveterre kneels before her in hopes of proving his truth.]

I'm not your foe. [He states confidentially without an ounce of hesitation in his tone.] Thus there's no need for us to quarrel in this place of rest. You are not my enemy and I'm not yours. Our enemies lay wait in the very institutions from which has failed us both.

Pray think of your colleagues. Enough bloodshed has been spilled in the name of the Chantry and their lofty ways. I will not continue this cycle of death nor should you.

Sal has learned he can make the Knight-Commander frown in many different ways. He's tempted to keep pushing. Is there a breaking point? He decides he doesn't want to know.

"I speak of anyone who isn't biased toward one side or the other. If there is to be fair discussion, we need someone impartial present to keep the peace." He doesn't care if they're elves, humans, or Qunari or highly intelligent darkspawn.

[ Stannis gives a single nod. He has no intention of speaking without Sauveterre present, as it concerns the other Knight-Commander, too. ]

We can wait for tomorrow at a similar hour. Or if you are willing, we can have our meeting as soon as possible tonight. [ Yes, he did state before that it may be better to wait a day given how even he could accept that the commander needs rest, but if willing, if able, the matter should be spoken of within the hour. ]

The choice is up to you, Commander Rutherford.

Sauveterre is a difficult man to break. His entire existence up till now is surely proof of that. The Templar knows much of pain and twice more of suffering. It's difficult to break him but fairly easier to annoy him.

"I shall leave you in power of picking the mediator out of fairness. I do believe the Templar hold too much power to be trusted with that task, though I know of an qunari who may assist in this endeavour." He speaks of a looming bounty hunter he befriended not so long ago.

"Be sure to also pick those you deem fit to represent the mages and apostate both. I, along with a fellow Knight-Commander, shall listen to your concerns with full intent of easing tensions here. With Rutherford most likely present in these discussions, I shall give advantage to the mages to engage us in these talks."

A breath. "Does this seem fair?"

Or what?

[ Magic she cannot use- but rapping a fool across the skull for remaining should he continue to press where he is unwanted is allowed. She'd checked ages ago out of idle curiosity. Thus she's prepared to do even with Compassion whispering, bidding her wait. To be calm, to be courteous.

It is not something she can hold to. Not when he comes to her tent and terrifies her wards, not when he demands her trust. For what is this if not a demand wrapped in a plea? Kind words and kind eyes that lie all the more for how gentle they seem. It is a lie. How can it be true when everything that he stood for crushed rather than cradled her students, her teachers, her family. Shattered the Circle and the Spire.

And then he kneels. That...

has her startled enough for the tent to warm, the ice to melt from her skin.

What was he doing? What ploy was this? ]

What do you know of bloodshed? [ What manner of templar decried the chantry? Pretty words. Pretty words that ring hollow- but her rage cools. Ices over entirely at the insult bound up in the middle. Continue the cycle? ]

I am a healer. My word was given to mend, not to murder- and unlike you and yours I keep my word.

Sam tilts his head at the extended hand, watching as the LeBlanc calls out for a bit of her Spirit to show itself. It doesn't give off any heat, but Sam feels... warm. "Hm."

He listens intently to the woman's words, eyes a bit mesmerized by the magic - it was soft but sure. Compassion and her had good rules. Sam could appreciate what they had and what they would and wouldn't do. Maybe that was his issue.

"Huh. It makes sense. Perhaps that's why I'm having trouble, or they're having trouble..." he shrugs, leaning on a hand. "Just not finding the right fit?" He looks up with a smile. "Seems like I can't fit into any ol' mold."

"If the mold does not suit you, make your own." The light dances around her fingertips, idly playful. "Spirits are...certainty. They are what we perceive them to be- if you feel they will not find you for whatever reason? They will not. Compassion makes sense to me when little else does as we keep it quite simple. I had a mentor that charmed his spirit in, and there was another that earned the trust of their partner by proving his valor, his honesty."

She turns her eyes to him, lips curled faintly in a smile. "You are kind. You care. That matters a great deal. Unlike here where intent cannot always see you through, for spirits? Intent is everything."

"Yes, she is kind." Beleth might disagree there, but she has her own personal reasons for that. "But not here, I'm afraid. The clan overall wished to stay put, and only a couple of us came here to help. What about your company? Are there others here?"

Then keep it still.

[He urges her while still kneeling. The Templar takes a risk and gazes up her with eyes honest and true. Sauveterre didn't come here seeking bloodshed, he merely came here to assist and now he feels guilt for it.]

I know much of bloodshed all thanks to the spoon fed lies given to me since youth. I know much of suffering as well but let us not compare each others agony. Let us rejoice for we overcame the evils that humanity is known for.

[He lowers his gaze.]

I know naught of you or the horrors you faced but mark my words--I won't have you face them for a second time. These words are not empty.

[A sigh follows.]

I shall take my leave of you. A healer has no time to squander when the ailing has need of her. My sincerest condolences to you and yours.

He hadn't thought of it that way. Uncertainty kept them away? That was... deep. He was pretty certain who he was, but he just wasn't certain about... others? The uncertainty of where he stood among others to put it simply? Maybe this was just harder right now because he couldn't sleep.

Sam finds himself blushing lightly when LeBlanc looks up at him, complimenting him about being kind and caring. Out of habit his other hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. "Ah... thank you."

Edited 2015-10-21 00:28 (UTC)

...

[ He doesn't even have the grace to let her throw him out. How terribly rude. She is the wronged party here and he just-

He's going to walk out without so much as a-

He's being CIVIL. He's not supposed to be civil he's supposed to bluster and demand and yell and brandish his sword till she paralyzes him and moves their tent somewhere else. Not. Be reasonable. ]

...if anything happens to my charges while we are here I am holding you accountable.

[ There. It is not the last word, it's not the word she wishes to have- but it will be on his head. ]

"You are welcome." A beat passes as the light in her hand fades. He could learn so much more if they had the Circle. If her mentors were still alive. If everything wasn't falling apart around them. "I could teach you. If you wished to learn more- to hear and understand them better. Find your partner."

I try not to do that as much as possible.

[Mostly because the conditions Bruce works in sometimes isn't very good for surgery like that. More often than not it'd probably worsen the patient's condition instead of making it better if he did so.

Which is part of the reason why he's research as much as he can when he's able - surely, there had to be a way that was better than just cutting into them.

He quirks a smile at the Qunari's response, amused, but not that he can blame him. Bruce pulls the book back and glances through it himself.]

It's not the most pleasant reading material, I admit. But at times its necessary.

'I could teach you.'

His eyes widen at the statement. There's more with it, but it's that simple phrase that gets his heart beating a bit faster. "Really?!"

Sam winces as his voice bounces off the walls. He hadn't meant to be loud, it was... he had a hard time keeping it in at times. Especially with an offer like that. "Really?" He asks softer, eyes wide with excitement. "That would be... I would appreciate that very, VERY much."

[The Maker jests.

It seems that life here at Skyhold promises to be troublesome at best for the chivalrous Knight-Commander. Sauveterre isn't too certain how he weather such a storm brewing here but he'll try. All this man can do is try to exceed the expectations of those who hate and loathe him. That is all.

With that known to him, Sauveterre rises from the ground and bows courteously. As he turns to leave he says the following.]

You may do so if the thought comforts you.

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Skyhold

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