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

Re: Cyril Ashara | Open to prose or action or anything else really!

[el_tybs]

Sam sighs as he flops down at one of the chairs at the Cabot's bar, giving the Dwarf a tired smile as he gives him a look. "Hey, Cabot. You're looking rather well-"

"You actually going to order something tonight?"

Sam winces with a chuckle. He supposes he does have a bad habit of just ordering water and something to munch on when he comes in. Cabot never says no since Sam has helped him fix a few things around the bar, but the Mage can see that sitting at the bar and not getting an actual drink is a bit tiresome.

"Ah, you know me so well. Um... surprise me?" He's grinning, but it's easy to tell that he is completely unsure about this decision; he's not a drinker. It's only once Cabot actually leaves to get him something that Sam relaxes. Giving a huff he turns in his seat slightly to see who else was at the tavern.

He's slowly meeting people - he waves at a few he works with at the blacksmith - but there are still so many he doesn't know. Normally, he would go off and mingle to change that, but today he's just feeling tired. Particularly in his shoulders.

A quick drink. That's it.

[samahl]

Cyril comes into the tavern a bit after Sam has settled down. He notices the dark hair and for a moment doesn't recognize the mage outright, other than he was was likely a fun new person to talk to.

When he comes over though, he feels the surprise show itself all over his face.

"You!" he says.

[el_tybs]

Sam smiles pleasantly at Cabot as he returns and nods at the Dwarf when he drops the drink off in front of him. He knows Cabot is waiting to see him take a drink, but Sam just continues to smile. After a while the Dwarf sighs and leaves, going off to tend to another customer. Alone, Sam frowns and looks at the mug sitting in front of him. He cannot tell what he's gotten by just looking at it, but it isn't very pleasant on his nose. "Ugh."

Before he can even think about taking a drink someone behind him yells "You!".

Startled, Sam jerks back. "Wh- GAH!"

A bit too far back apparently because he finds himself flat on his back on the floor. There's a moment where his entire body is tense and a low hissing noise leaves through between his teeth. Once the initial pain leaves though, Sam gives a groan.

[samahl]

Cyril's eyes widen a bit and he moves swiftly to Sam's side to help him up. He hadn't meant to shock him that way. "Fenedhis," he cursed lightly. "Sam, are you okay?"

At least he remembered Sam's name.

[el_tybs]

"I thought you're only supposed to fall out of your chair AFTER drinking," he jokes lightly, though his face is anything but amused. He gives another grunt as someone grabs his arm and helps him up. He is vaguely aware that the person knows his name.

Fergus? No. The voice was too light for the other blacksmith. Who else did he know? Crap he was bad with names.

With the help Sam is able to grab the stool and uses it to get himself back onto his feet. Rotating his arm a bit, Sam gives a huff. Chuckling at his own clumsiness he turns to look at whomever helped him up.

"Sorry bout that. Thanks for help... me..." his lips move a few more times, but there aren't any words that come out. His eyes widen and for a long time he just stares dumbly at the Elf standing next to him.

[samahl]

Cyril makes sure he's up and that there isn't any sign of injury. He keeps a hand on Sam's arm for a moment longer than he probably should have.

Then he gives Sam a small half smile as the mage stares at him. "Oh, I do like it when I leave a handsome man speechless."

[el_tybs]

That seems to snap Sam out of his stupor. He blinks then shakes his head lightly, and puts a hand over his eyes. Am I seeing things...? I didn't hit my head that hard, did I? For a moment he stays like that before releasing a breath and rubbing his eyes. After doing that for a bit he then slowly lowers his hand, but keeps his eyes closed. One side of his nose scrunches up before Sam lets himself open up one of his eyes.

Nope, it was who he thought it was. Unless he was completely out from that fall and the Fade was messing with his mind. But the hand on his arm is warm and familiar.

"Cy- ril?" He's normally bad with names, but the Elf's name tumbles from his lips with familiarity. Which it should with how much he remembers saying it during that one night. And having to say the name out loud suddenly has Sam bright as a tomato.

[samahl]

Cyril finds the blushing to be as endearing as anything about Sam. He slides into the chair next to him. He pats Sam's arm lightly and then settles in.

"Oh, I'm glad you remembered. I was starting to worry." He wasn't really. It was clear that Sam remembered him.

[el_tybs]

Sam nervously rubs the back of his neck, taking in the scene. It's a different tavern, with more people present, but it all seems all too familiar. Cyril showing up out of nowhere, and sliding into the chair next to him with flirts playing along that smile. Biting his lip, Sam carefully takes his seat again, keeping his eyes on the Elf the entire time.

"You're... here," he says dumbly. He doesn't know what else to say, though the blush seems to be lessening now. "You're here," he repeats again, more sure, but obviously curious.

[samahl]

"Yes," Cyril replies. "A group from my clan came to join the Inquisition. I take it you came here to do the same?"

[el_tybs]

A group of his Clan, including him, came to join the Inquisition. Oh...

"I... I've been part of the Inquisition for a while. Even when we first met." The entire reason he had been in Redcliffe in the first place a while back was because he had been with a group running errands under orders. Sam supposes that had never came up.

Feeling parched Sam thoughtlessly reaches over for his mug and takes a swig of it. With everything he had completely forgotten that he had not gotten water this time, and it shows on his face that he doesn't particularly enjoy what's in his mouth. He swallows regardless and coughs a few times. How do people drink this?

"You and your Clan mates then? How long have you been here?"

[samahl]

"Not very long," Cyril replies. He watches Sam with a certain level of amusement. He's just so cute as he fumbles to put this information in his head. It reminds Cyril of what it had been like to talk to him at Redcliffe.

That was a pretty good memory.

"You don't seem very happy to see me. Should I be offended?" he says that with such humor in his voice that it's clear that he understands that Sam is just flustered, not annoyed.

[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."

[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?"

[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."

[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.

[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?"

[samahl]

Cyril watches him and waits for the reaction. Then he's grinning and laughing and Cyril lets out a soft breath.

"I suppose so," he says, amused. "I should probably get one for myself too."

[el_tybs]

Sam doesn't miss the breath Cryil lets out. "Or you could just have mine." Sam chuckles and pushes the mug in Cyril's direction.

He doesn't think he could handle drinking right now.

[samahl]

Cyril takes the drink and sips at it a bit, though he's careful not to take too much of it.

"When did you join the Inquisition?" he asks, curious to catch up.

[el_tybs]

The smile quickly loses it's mirth, and he turns in his chair to lean on the counter. He'll chalk it up to current events and the subject.

"The Conclave?" He shrugs. "I wanted to get out of the Cirlce so much. I just happened to have a real need to ditch the Templars and the meeting to go and see the town nearby." Sam gives a huff and looks down at nothing in particular. "They probably were so mad. I can only imagine what they would have done with me if... things didn't happen."

[samahl]

Cyril frowns as well. "Did you... did you lose people? In the explosion?" He knew it was a personal question, but he couldn't imagine what that would be like.

[el_tybs]

"A few mages and templars from Ostwick Circle. No one I had a personal connection to." He sighs and rolls the shoulder he had fallen on, the soreness finally grabbing his attention because he needed to think about something else.

"A lot of people died that day."

[samahl]

Cyril leans a little closer and puts an arm around Sam, rubbing his shoulders and neck for a moment. He only really knows how to give comfort in a physical sort of way and the touch his meant to help relax Sam.

He pulls back again before speaking. "And yet others survived. Many of them are here, trying to put the world back in order."

[el_tybs]

Sam tenses at first at the contact then forces himself to relax. Not so much because of surprise, but because he doesn't trust himself with physical contact at the moment. It's too close.

When Cyril pulls away, Sam turns his head back towards the Elf. "Yeah." A pause. He doesn't comment about losing the Herald. "A lot of trying. And more showing up everyday."