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

[Bruce remembers the Chant of Light as well, when it was sung, when the Herald was gone and the people mourned. They were still mourning, of course - everyone was - but back then, in that moment, Bruce himself felt a little wondrous of the moment of it all.

Wondrous - and sad. His own faith had been shaken when the incident happened, and after the last time... he couldn't hold onto it anymore. It was impossible to believe, especially when he himself was something that was clearly unnatural. Unnatural but yet still alive. Where would something like him belong?]

I don't drink, but thank you again. [Bruce just says very politely. The Templar has his points, true, but things aren't as easy as they seem.] I will remember that, too.

You sound like a man trying to placate a rambling fool.

[ He looks over his shoulder then towards the man. He breathes out a sigh. Whatever advice that he gives will be brushed off by the people so long as the Order remains in shambles. ]

If you want to remember it, write it down. Better yet, tattoo it somewhere. Certain we can find one that'd be willing.

[To be perfectly fair, Bruce is just trying his best to be polite.

But whatever it takes to get the Templar off his back--

Bruce takes out the journal he had with him, and with the battered quill in his bag, pointedly writes down the stuff that Stannis had said to him earlier.]

Now I'll certainly remember it. [His tone is dry as Bruce keeps back his journal.]

I will hope that much for you.

[ He lets out a sigh then steps forward to look out toward the courtyard. ] Have you been with the Inquisition long? Have you traveled particularly far? [ It is better to ask and let it be done. His eyes search over those that are entering in the dead of night; those that are about.

Stannis frowns all the more. ]

[Those are... simpler questions, at least. Bruce can answer those. More or less.]

I joined the Inquisition when they came to the Crossroads in the Frostbacks. [When the Herald met Mother Giselle, the Chantry sister - Bruce took the chance then and joined, since he had been intending to do so anyway.] Before that I had been on the road, helping out wherever I could.

Heard anything about mages traveling with a young girl?

[ That is where there was a gathering of people, if he recalls. Enough, he hopes, to give him some clue. But he realizes that while he feels the need to ask -- he holds little hope. ] A young mage escaped from my tower and I am looking for her. She was under the First Enchanter's wing so she may also know where my First Enchanter is, as well.

So, have you heard any tale of them traveling with such a young charge?

[That's not really very helpful, Bruce mentally quips to himself, but he doesn't say that out loud. He does rack his mind for any recollection of such a group, although he doesn't have to think much - he had been more or less travelling by himself, and making a point to avoid large groups of people.]

Not to my knowledge, no. [He says after a pause, giving a shake of his head.] My apologies.

[ He frowns deeply before nodding. ]

I doubted that you would. I doubt anyone has. Could someone pass through one of those tears? [ His question is entirely rhetorical. He straightens his posture as he finds that his shoulders are slightly slumping at the answer. ] No need to apologize for what you don't know, surgeon.

[ The moment has passed as he changes his questioning. ] So, what is it that you're doing up here, anyway? Trying to find some quiet away from the people?

[Well, even if it isn't his fault, Bruce can't help but feel a bit guilty nonetheless. He has no liking for the Templars, but he could tell that whoever he was asking for had to be somebody important to him. He wouldn't have asked otherwise.

He keeps a note to look for such groups at the very least, giving a glance to his slowly boiling pot at the question.]

A little. [He admits that much at the very least.] But mostly to make my potions in peace. The noise sometimes breaks my focus.

Fair enough. Sometimes, I think they're just talking to fill up silence.

[ He decides to rest against the stone to look out to the courtyard. ] I have no more questions for you, but have no desire to relinquish this space. Allow us to enjoy the quiet that will come next.

[ A beat. ] Unless you have questions for me?

Ah--no. I have none.

[Well he does have some, but Bruce knows better than to ask. He doesn't think the Templar will want to answer anyway, and he doesn't want to raise any suspicions if he asks anything that sounded too strange.

And besides, as long as he doesn't really do anything towards him, Bruce is fine with things as they are. They can just enjoy their space and silence in peace.]

Skyhold

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