faderift | Skyhold

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.

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Sam tilts his head at Krem raising a hand then blinks when it returns to the table with a bottle in it. Surprised and curious, Sam turns in his chair to see where the bottle might have come from. Eventually he turns back and raises a brow at Krem.

"What is it?"

"Just ale," Krem assures him. One of the other Chargers was sitting down a few feet away, a table full of bottles in front of them. People were just keen on dispensing the alcohol to whoever wanted or needed it at the moment. "If someone ever offers you something they only tell you is 'drink', I'd advise against taking it, for the sake of your throat's wellbeing."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind." For the longest time Sam just just stares at the bottle. Just ale he says.

Eventually he picks up the bottle and holds it under his nose to smell it. Well it smelled better then the other stuff Cabot often tried to put in front of it. "You drink often I take it?"

"Fairly regularly. Not enough to get utterly plastered, but I'm sure my liver isn't exactly happy with me." Krem tipped him a small smirk at that, then took a few swallows from his bottle. It was nearly empty by now, and it was getting toward his personal cutoff point. He would rather be able to get back to the crumbling room he'd claimed as his own without falling on his way up the stairs.

Sam wants to make a comment that Krem should take better care of himself, but stops. Working for the Chargers and fighting for a living was pretty risky for ones health. Alcohol seemed like the last thing to worry about. Sam snorts in amusement.

It helped that Krem was giving him a smirk rather then watching him with a stoic expression.

Shrugging, Sam follows suit and takes a few sips from the bottle given to him. Well at least it wasn't making him cough as soon as it touched his tongue. The taste still made him make a face. "An acquired taste I take it."

"Something like that." That face is amusing, but Krem keeps his laughter strictly internal. No reason to go making fun of the guy. "You don't have to finish it; some people don't care for it, nothing wrong with that."

Sam wrinkles his nose, waits a moment, then takes another sip. Yep, still didn't taste good. He looks at Krem, still sporting the disgusted and unhappy expression, and puts the bottle down. He pushes his tongue out once to scrape the top of it against his teeth to try and get the flavor off his tongue but it doesn't help.

Sam gives a snort. "I see." He glares a bit at the bottom as if it's his enemy. "Still. I would at some point like to find something that I like."

"When we get more coming in trade, I'm sure you'll have plenty to sample." Krem polishes off the last of his ale, then picks up the discarded one and rubs his thumb around the lip before starting in on it. Clearly not afraid of germs, this one.

There's a comment on Sam's lips as he watches as Krem starts on his discarded bottle. Again he refrains. He's finally gotten the man to talk to him and he didn't feel like messing it up. Instead he tilts his head. "What are we getting?"

"You've seen the nobles wandering, they'll probably demand Orlesian wine. We'll probably be able to start brewing something of our own here when things settle down more. Can't really say otherwise at the moment. You'll probably find something you like, if you don't make yourself sick trying everything."

That look on Sam's face has him curious as to just what he's about to say. Personally, he just prefers not to waste the ale, and Sam doesn't look sickly, so he doesn't care.

"Oh, I'd be a lovely sight, wouldn't I? Bottles surrounding my body as I make a lovely footstool." He's obviously joking, but rather than smiling Sam sticks out his tongue in minor disgust at the idea.

"What does Orlesian wine taste like?"

"Too sweet, not enough kick for my taste," Krem replied with a mild shrug. "At least if you ended up on the floor here, the worst you could expect is bored elves drawing on your face."

Sam raises a brow at hearing about elves drawing on people's faces. "That's reassuring." Not really. He'd rather not have anything drawn on his face that he didn't know about.

He tilts his head at the mention of sweet. "Sweet huh? That sounds interesting."

The interest in the sweet drinks makes Krem smile faintly. "There's also a honey mead from the Hinterlands you'd probably like. Burns a little on the way down, but good for savoring, or for basting roasted pig." Already he was making plans in his head to try getting at least a bottle of it for Sam to try.

"It... burns on the way down?" Sam raises a brow, wrapping his head around the concept. "Good for savoring what?" He scoots his chair in a bit closer so that he can lean on the table a bit more comfortably.

At first, Krem's pretty sure that Sam's joking, just trying for smalltalk. Then he realizes he doesn't care what it is. "It's...warm. Tingly, kind of. Makes you want to clear your throat but not choke on it." He isn't exactly the most poetic person ever. "Drink it on a cold night, you start forgetting you're cold. Especially after a couple of bottles."

"Sounds like a good drink for around here." Sam smiles. The prospect of a drink warming you up during a cold night sounded good. "You know a lot about different drinks. One of the benefits of traveling around I take it?"

"Something like that. Could also teach you how to make something father showed me when I was younger. Lemony thing, with honey and whiskey warmed up over a fire. Good for beating back a cold, or just helping you sleep."

The last part seems to really grab Sam's attention. Both of his brows shoot up and he stares at Krem with such wonder. "Really now? It helps you sleep?" He wouldn't mind having a drink like that at all. It all sounded good, but having something to help him sleep that wasn't a Maker awful potion? He wanted to try that.

Listening to Sam's reactions make Krem feel rather like he was talking to a boy rather than a young man. He purses his lips some and nods. "The combination of warmth, sweet and liquor does it. If er can even get fruits here, I would see about making one for you. Bound to get a lot colder before long."

Sam raises a fist and gives a soft cheer at the idea that Krem was planning on making a special drink for him. Settling back down he smiles. "I would really appreciate that. Like you wouldn't believe." Sam shifts happily in his chair. "Colder? Well guess it's a good thing I sleep at the smithy. How bout you? I take it you sleep here in the Herald's Rest?"

Krem shakes his head some, smile fading a touch. "No, too noisy to sleep without being blackout drunk. I've found a room not too far off, though." He's...not quite willing to give more specifics than that just yet.

Sam waits for a moment, as if expecting for Krem to say more, but when the man doesn't he easily shrugs his shoulders. He knows at least that Krem doesn't sleep in the tavern.

"So you said you have 'all night'. What do you plan on doing for the rest of your evening?" He's curious and like he said, he too didn't have anything else planned. It was nice getting to talk to someone for more than a few minutes, too.

Krem simply shrugged at the question. "No plans, as such, more like a desire to make sure my men are able to find places to rest that don't involve the floor here. Gets cold at night, that's for damned sure, and you can't exactly perform in a fight if you're stopping to blow your knows between swings. You?"

"They still haven't found accommodations yet?" Sam looks over his shoulder at the few Chargers that are there. Skyhold is a big place, but a decent amount is still uninhabitable.

At hearing his own question being tossed back at him, in lesser words, Sam gives a shrug. "I'll have to wait for the forges to die down a bit before I can think about getting some sleep. Don't fancy practicing right now. A book? Maybe?" Honestly he hadn't planned on doing anything.

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kremdelacreme - 2015-10-20 02:20 (UTC) - Expand

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el_tybs - 2015-10-20 02:32 (UTC) - Expand

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