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

[ombranera]

Young and fair and, apparently, of a mind. He shouldn't do anything too vigorous because of his stitches- but that does not exactly cut down on the options as he is both quite creative and highly dexterous. He lets his smile go from merely appreciative to positively inviting, all hooded eyes and casual smirk.

"The best I have had thus far. But the night is young, I may yet be surprised in more pleasing ways." Voice warm and thick, like honey on leather as he makes his way close enough to get a better look still- at Cyril's work, of course. "Pretty elves are lovely enough- pretty and capable elves? Are a treasure."

[samahl]

That voice was enough to make even the strongest man melt, and Cyril felt himself moving a little closer to Zevran before he could even think of doing it. He liked closing that distance though.

"I suppose you'll have to see just how capable I am," he said. "I have a feeling I'd enjoy being treasured by you, at least for a night."

[ombranera]

The traps could wait- well. Yes, yes, they could wait. It had been longer than Zevran would like since he last had anyone- longer still since it was an elf, longer still since they were equally eager for the seduction, and almost a decade since all this and Dalish.

Something about them was sweeter to him- he couldn't say why.

Closing the distance was easy- the familiar steps of a habitual dance, made more enjoyable by an equally engaged partner. He raised his hand to cup Cyril's jaw, leaning in to murmur. "Shall we find somewhere more private so I might treasure you properly?"

[samahl]

Cyril's head moved into the touch, savoring it. Those hands were warm and he wanted them over more than just his face.

"Privacy might be a better choice. I wouldn't want to distract the shems from doing their work and I have a feeling you'll be very distracting."

[ombranera]

[ Continued yonder! ]