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

[salvatore_underfoot]

"I can handle it, thanks." He says it as he tries to take the canvas back and balance his crate at the same time, which upends the crate, which is of course too full for such a maneuver, and half the contents topple out.

He sucks in a breath and rights the crate before he can lose anything. "And now that I've dumped my manhood at your feet, yes, help would be wonderful."

[aceso]

She takes a step back from the falling items, tactfully holding back a comment. Which is good, since he goes on to admit a moment later that he does need help. At least she can keep her hands busy. But she can't resist a teasing remark: "If that is what you call your manhood, I feel sorry for any lovers you may have had."

And with that said, she crouches to gather together his fallen goods.

[salvatore_underfoot]

"Never had any complaints," he mutters with what he will deny is a pout as he helps pick up his things. "Maybe one or two. They don't count though." He huffs and drops items unceremoniously into the crate. "I've seen you around, yeah? I don't think I've caught your name."

[aceso]

She lifts her gaze partway through her gathering to give him a brief smirk before she finishing collecting her share and moves to stand. Now why wouldn't they count? She thinks she would be insulted to find out that a previous lover was telling others she didn't count.

"Perhaps because I did not yet throw it for you to catch," she says in the same teasing tone. But she sees no reason to withhold it from him. "I am Christine."

[salvatore_underfoot]

He tucks the canvas around the top of the crate, thinking maybe that will keep everything in this time, and rises as well, taking the whole thing up with him.

"Thank you for helping me, Christine. I'm Salvatore. Sal's alright."

[aceso]

"You are welcome, Sal. Are you sure you don't need anymore help? I am free right now." And truthfully, she could use a distraction from all the recent sorrows with the loss at Haven. As much as she commits herself to helping the injured, even she has to step away from time to time in order to clear her head.

[salvatore_underfoot]

"After that display?" Sal sighs, but smiles with as much of a bow as he dares with the dreaded crate in his arms. "Please do help. My pride won't survive repeat incident."

[aceso]

"Then let me take a little of the load." She fills her arms and tilts her head. "Now, where to?"

Though Skyhold is large, it is compact, and really doesn't take that long to travel across. At least, not if one walks briskly with long strides, as Christine tends to.

[salvatore_underfoot]

"Not far, thankfully. We're setting up tents on the other side of that crumbly wall thing there." He nods his head in the direction of a crumbly wall. Thing. Over there. "And by we, I mean, they. I just carry the boxes." And carry it he does, though he's not overly fond of brisk walking. He'd prefer to stroll, if given a choice.

[aceso]

Well, Christine is quite used to taking off only to find she's left someone straggling behind her, so after a couple of steps, she stops and waits for this strolling fellow.

"That will be very useful. Though I would prefer it if the weather doesn't turn. It's lovely here right now." She moves slowly this time, adding a moment later, "From where do you hail, Sal?"

[salvatore_underfoot]

"It is. I hope it holds for a while. At least until we have more walls." He's already weary of the drafty corner he's scraped out for himself.

"The accent doesn't give it away?" He tilts a smile at her. "Nevarra. Perendale Circle, if you want to be specific. And you...?"

[aceso]

"And why should it? I have spent most of my life in a Circle in the heart of Orlais. I have never heard a Nevarran accent before. Or rather, before the Circles fell, though I did not ask where they were from when I heard a different accent." And though she's given him a sort of answer as to her Circle, there are two in Orlais, so she specifies. "Montsimmard."

[salvatore_underfoot]

"I apologize for the assumption then. I had never heard an Orlesian accent before leaving the Circle in Nevarra." He skirts around the crumbling wall and enters the little camp that is going up. "The what? Oh. Yes. That was yours? You know, Perendale is very Orlesian still. Lions."

[aceso]

"In what way are there lions?" she asks, half a step ahead of him as they walk, because she's forgetting to take smaller strides. "In the decor, perhaps? Or do lions wander around wild in the streets?" Her accompanying smile says she's kidding there.

[salvatore_underfoot]

Sal doesn't mind that she keeps getting ahead of him. He's used to falling behind. He laughs, nearly dropping the crate, but he doesn't! "The decor, I'm afraid. Not very frightening. I never got out to the streets until I left, though, so perhaps I am mistaken."

[aceso]

"I have never even seen a real lion in the whole of my life," she continues. "One would think Orlais would be full of them, since we choose it as our symbol. Ferelden has its dogs, after all." And Ferelden was certainly... different. Quaint, she supposed. Though truth be told, Redcliffe seemed little different to the village in which she grew up. Not every place in Orlais was filled with men and women in masks and enough gold gilding to blind a person.

"Where are we meant to place these supplies?"

[salvatore_underfoot]

"Maybe Orlais just wishes it had lions? Are they lacking in dignified wildlife?" All he knew about Orlais he read from books and picked up from the local architecture - left over from when Perendale was an Orlesian city. If he were to pick an animal true to the region, it would have to be the goat.

"With the other supplies there." He shows her to a short stack of more crates, and sets his on the top. "Thank you for your help."

[aceso]

"Another thing I know little of is the wildlife," she answers dryly. Living in a city and barely being allowed outside will leave one with a lack of knowledge in that area.

"Of course." Christine sets down the load and dusts off her hands. "Will there be anything else?"

[salvatore_underfoot]

"No, I think I'm done tripping over myself today." He grins, brushing bits of crate wood from his robes. "But I'm sure we'll see each other about. The fortress isn't that big." He steps away with a wave for scooting off.

[aceso]

"I am sure we will. Be safe. No more tripping." Or else he'll end up one of her patients. But she leaves him to his task, heading off back in the direction they came.