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

[samahl]

[Cyril happily leads them to an abandoned room and then turns to Taas again. He starts to take off his clothes then, smirking at him. He really doesn't want to waste time.]

[quietblade]

[Oh yes. Nothing like a little show, and damn if this elf was hot. Pretty pale skin all over, dark makeup around gorgeous eyes, the strange but elegant tattoos on his brow.

Waist little enough to put his hands around with plenty of space left. He could break the man in half with just a touch.]

[samahl]

[Cyril doesn't look intimidated at all by his size. He finishes tugging off his clothes, only taking his time to tease Taas a bit. That doesn't last very long though, Cy is much happier getting to the point.

When he's stripped he goes up to Taas and touches his chest.]

I'm Cyril, by the way. [He says with a smirk, more amused than anything. Usually you give a man your name before you strip naked in front of him.]

[quietblade]

[It he believed in gods, he'd be thanking them right now. It was one attractive little man, all fine lines and pale skin when he took off his clothes so prettily.

The hand touching his chest is soon engulfed in the thickness of his own, and he grins again.]

Taashath. [Hey, sometimes he didn't even get people's names. It was easier for some. Fuck the big brute and run off without a single tie.]

Some ground rules, handsome. Always look at me when you speak. I can't hear you - old war injury. If I can't see your face, I can't read your lips.

[The qunari shrugs.]

If you need me to stop or slow down, tap me twice. Just in case I cannot see your face at the time.

[Now he does put his hands around Cyril's waist to measure, large hands groping the hips with a heated look in his brown eyes.]

Lastly, you should open my breeches and see if you're okay with what I've got there. I don't always fit.

[samahl]

[continued here]