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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"How do you think of it?" Cyril asks. He doesn't seem too shocked to find out that he slept with a mage. "I've known plenty of mages who consider it both a gift and a curse."

Sam raises a brow at Cyril. "That's... simply putting it." He takes a drink just because it's something to do. "I don't think of it in those terms. I'm just me. Just sometimes me can me equally dangerous as I am helpful."

Cyril watches him for a moment before speaking. "That's the way it is for everyone, isn't it?" he asks. He's careful to keep his tone inquisitive rather than assumptive. He keeps his own opinions on mages carefully protected as he gauges what Sam's opinions are. "I can be dangerous or helpful as well."

Sam chuckles at that. Not at Cyril, but at the subject. It's something he rarely talks about with other people. Leaning over closer to Cyril he tilts his head towards the door. "It's a nice night. How bout we go for a walk? Bit too many people around for this kind of conversation."

Sam gets up and tosses a few coins on the counter and offers his hand for Cyril to use.

Cyril takes that hand because he's always a fan of physical attention. He moves to walk with Sam. He didn't drink much of the alcohol and leaves it there as he goes with Sam.

"Lead the way."

Sam smiles and helps Cyril up, releasing his hand after. Turning he clears a way towards the front door then holds it open for Cyril.

Once outside Sam shivers, having gotten used to the heat inside. It's bearable though. He doesn't have a particular place to go, but it feels better to be outside talking.

"You can be dangerous or helpful." Sam smiles as he confirms that, looking down at the Elf. "Do you have difficulty being one or the other?"

Cyril walks with him and finds himself enjoying the cool air. "I suppose not?" he says carefully, wanting mostly to let Sam make his point.

Sam looks at Cyril curiously. Come to think of it he doesn't know Dalish mages at all. Did they have the same issues? Or was this something that only came up because of the Chantry? Maybe he'd be able to ask later.

"Me neither." Sam pauses. "For the most part." He takes that time to sit down on a rock. "You remember how we first met?"

"In vivid detail," Cyril responds with a bit of a smile. After all, given how things went between them why would he want to forget?

Sam coughs lightly into a fist and looks away at that answer. His cheeks were red from the cold, but to him they felt warm.

Right. Cyril was going to make getting over things harder.

Sighing, Sam looks back up at the Elf. "So you remember that I was sitting at the bar at whatever Maker forsaken hour that was in the early morning. Dreaming... sometimes isn't pleasant." There was a pause, as if Sam wanted to say something else, but quickly dismisses it. "It worries me sometimes that if I'm not careful, I might not be me when my eyes open."

Cyril took note of that reaction and reminded himself to stop. He wasn't used to having to wheel it in as much, but the last thing he wanted was to make things more difficult for Sam. Perhaps trying to be his friend was the wrong choice?

But seemed too late to take that back now, and Sam could probably use someone to look out or him. That feeling of protectiveness only got worse with what Sam said then.

"That fear... It must be exhausting. To think that you can't even rest when you sleep..."

"I'm sure I'm not the only one. Just doesn't get talked about a lot."

Sam rests his chin on his hands then motions with his head for Cyril to take a seat next to him. Regardless of how things transpired he was glad to see the Elf again. He'd just have to figure a few things out.

"Least with 'shems' if they hear you're having issues with demons you're watched like you'd blow up any moment."

Cyril is careful as he sits, not wanting to get too much into Sam's personal space.

"That Dalish treasure our mages," he says, carefully. He isn't sure how much he can explain that Sam would understand. "Keepers are mages and they hold the history of Our People."

Sam turns his head to look at Cyril, listening intently.

"Keepers are the... leaders or other of your Clan, right?" His words are equally careful. He isn't very well versed about the Dalish except for what he's read or from the few he did get to talk to at Skyhold. Last thing he wants to do is insult anyone.

"That's right. They are also our guardians and protectors. In Clan Ashara, the Keeper has children of her own and many of us were raised by the Clan collectively. That makes us... feel much more like a family." He isn't sure if that's the case for other Clans. He can only really speak to his own experiences.

Sam thinks about that for a moment. "So the others that came with you, from Clan Ashara... are like your siblings?"

He nods at that. "Except for Pel. She's more like a very close older cousin." Another short pause. "She is also really my cousin. Our mother's were related."

Sam snorts at that. 'Sort of' and 'actually' are two different things. Shaking his head in amusement Sam leans a bit more on hand and smiles at Cyril.

"I'm an only child so I don't know what that's like. What kind of people are they?"

Cyril thinks on that. "They're all very different. Beleth is the Keeper's daughter. She's very pleasant to be around." He leaves out the part where she's likely feel very different about Sam if they met. He doesn't need to know what the elves are really like when they aren't around humans. "Ellana is very sweet, and she's probably love to get to know you." That, at least, is very honest. "Merrick is... Merrick is the one I'm closest too, but if you meet him you should probably leave out the part where you and I were intimate."

Sam's brows narrow in concern at hearing that last part and leans back just a bit. "Is that... a human thing, or a 'don't touch Cyril period' kind of thing?" He's not about to go around saying anything about what they did in the past, but he doesn't particularly like the idea of having a Dalish Elf coming to maim him if word did get out.

"Or is it... something else?" Sam doesn't say it but he's leaning towards jealous ex-lover? Cyril did say they are weren't related, just raised together.

"It's a... protective brother who is skilled with sharp blades sort of thing," Cyril explains. "Merrick knows I make my own choices when it comes to my body, but he may be wary around you if he knows. There's no need to lie to him though. He has very little patience for that sort of thing."

He pretty much ignores the insinuation that he and Merrick might be lovers. That's a whole layer of complexity he doesn't want to get into.

"Good to know. Is there a description... or something that I could recognize him by? Dalish elf with killer pointy blades isn't much to go on." The easiest way would probably to yell out what he did and just follow the murderous intent. Not a wise thing to do.

Cyril chuckled a bit. "He has brown hair, blue eyes, and a scar over his lip. His vallaslin is just over one eye. The design is like this." He traces the Sylaise design that Merrick had picked out years ago.

He lets his finger linger on his face for a moment as he considers Sam. For a moment, he thinks about how much he wants to reach out and trace the design over Sam's face, just for an excuse to touch him. Instead, he lets his hand drop.

"You might also know him because he glares quite often. At everything."

Sam stares, watching intently at the design Cyril is tracing over his face, trying not to lose the design among the lines on Cyril's own face. He wrinkles his nose lightly with a bit of a nod as he tries to ingrain it in his mind. Least he knew it was only over one eye. That would make it easier.

For a moment Sam catches Cyril's eye and he tries his best to simply not look away and just smiles.

"Glaring," he repeats, "alright. Is that a permanent feature or just something he does?"

"Just something he does," Cyril explains. "Once he trusts someone, he has other expressions. It just takes a while to find them."

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