faderift | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There was plenty of need for someone nimble to be bringing and taking linens to be cleaned and sorted, especially with so many wounded having arrived. Merrill was trying her best to learn the locale and the distance from the wash rooms to the courtyard was decent enough.

She kneels down near one of the healers, giving a friendly smile in hello while she replaces the linens.

"Are you hungry?" normally she wouldn't initiate conversation with strangers, but they were all part of the Inquisition now, weren't they? A clan of sorts!

Eirlys offers a similar smile in return, hoping to appear open and friendly rather than letting the shyness she's felt ever since arriving at Skyhold overtake her.

"Yes, a little," she admits. "I've been making sure there's enough for the wounded to eat before taking any for myself, but I think it's beginning to take it's toll."

It made sense that she would have an appetite. Most of those who took care of others gave little care for themselves. A silly thing, but a noble cause. Her smile grew a bit more and she handed her a few of the linens.

"Could you distribute these to the ones who need it most? I'll be back in a moment. You'll be here, won't you?" She didn't quite leave it as a question, more between a pleasant request and expectation.

"Certainly, I'm not going anywhere." She looked happy to be of use, taking the linens and casting her gaze around to see where they were most needed.

"Ma serannas." Up she went, moving quickly and picking her way through the groups of people who were going about their business to clear things, rebuild, make this fortress a home. She turned from the makeshift seller's market and headed up the stairs, straight into the kitchens.

Careful not to get in the way she eased a few biscuits loose from a tray, along with some butter and a few potatoes before slipping back out toward the courtyard.

In short order she was back and quietly held out the freshly warm biscuit to the nice young lady. "There's a water station nearby where you can get some water, but if you expect to help the wounded, y'can't be about to faint, yourself."

Eirlys looks overwhelmed by this small act of kindness. She seats herself on the steps, accepting the food from Merrill before breaking the warm biscuit in half, holding it back out to her.

"You'll have some too, won't you?"

"I will soon, you can go ahead!" she waved her hands a little to decline the biscuit as gently as she could. "You've already given of yourself so much, it would be poor manners to take from you."

Besides, the Inquisition needed to look after their own. She would do her part. Not to mention she wouldn't force another elf to give up what they needed. She was quiet a moment, tracing a nonsense design in the dirt with a finger. "I'm Merrill-- Dalish, of course, hard to mistake with these marks, right? Where are y'from?"

She isn't quite satisfied with that answer, but she feels it's probably a waste of time to argue the issue, knowing that she'd insist the same if their positions were reversed. She takes a nibble of the biscuit and then a larger mouthful, dabbing at the crumbs that fall into her skirt onto a fingertip and sprinkling them on the ground for a sparrow nearby to peck at.

"I thought you must be Dalish." Her eyes flicker up to the markings on Merrill's face, feeling a little self-conscious at being one of the only elves she's found here without them. "I'm Eirlys. From Gwaren, in Ferelden."

"Not too far from home, then," she brightened a little, tilting her head to watch the sparrows dive in and land, pecking at the grass and crumbs. "It's nice to see so many people here, helping out Ferelden. And the Inquisition. Can't imagine how it is to have a Blight and then this happen."

Must be dreadful. Home was meant to be a place where you had normal squabbles, not world-shaking tragedies on your doorstep.

"Do you have a proper place to stay? Sorry, I'm not trying to pry, just-- well, we have to look after each other and you looked a bit lonely. It's not a nice feeling, being lonely."

"We were at the point where we'd just begun to recover properly from the Blight." They'd seen few darkspawn, but she remembers how crowded Gwaren had become with refugees fleeing; many of the humans using it as an embarkation point to cross to the Free Marches, and many of the elves finding themselves still in the alienage there ten years later. "I worry that the holes in the sky will have appeared there, too." She's certain the authorities would evacuate the noble and merchant classes and leave her people to fend for themselves. But then, that was what the Inquisition was for.

"Oh no, I don't mind. I've claimed a spot on the kitchen floor so far. It seems as though beds are in short supply." It's not nice, but already Merrill's making it fade just a little with her kind consideration.

"Even the lands, I hear, take ages to recover from Blights." she wriggled her toes a little, sitting to hug her knees as she listened. The kitchen floor, while not proper, was more ideal than an hayloft. At least she'd be warm and inside. "It does seem like sleeping spots are at a premium. But don't settle for something less than comfortable once the Inquisition gets on its feet. They're supposed to treat us all like allies, here."

She stood her full height to regard the people in the distance. "Such an idealistic notion, though. I wonder if it'll work. I hope it does. Oh, and also--"

Stern, she was going with stern when her expression hardened. She only managed to accomplish firm, not stern. "They've got plenty of supplies coming in. I'll have your word you won't be skipping meals again. Where would they be if you keel over from hunger?"

Her arms folded and she smiled a little, "Still hurt and possibly stuck under you. Your word, lethallan."

"I'll do all I can to eat my share." It's a rather loose promise, but she knows that if it's a choice between her own welfare and that of her charges, she'll lose out every time.

She blinks a couple of times, then looks up at her curiously. "What was that you called me?"

Skyhold

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject