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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Startling an assassin is not the wisest thing, even if he had not been sleeping all that well the pat few days. That would be the only reason he didn't notice her in the tree before she dropped down- forcing him into a defensive crouch, knife up and prepared for a quick shank when it clicked that A) She was not armed and B) he had just wrenched his shoulder. Marvelous.

"You should take more care with whom you startle."

Beleth hadn't expected anyone to be beneath her when she dropped down, but Zevran's action startled her enough to react in turn--She had her bow out before she even realized it. Luckily, bows take enough time to set up that she was able to process that Zevran was not about to stick that dagger in her before she could even get an arrow. For a few short breaths, she just stood there with her bow in her hand, staring in alarm at the other elf. After she got tired of feeling like a massive tool, she slowly stuck her bow on her back, and raised her hands up.

"Sorry, um. I was just working on..." Watching some hot headed idiot or another picking a fight and wondering if she was going to see a scrap right in the middle of the courtyard. "...cleaning..." Slowly, she looked up at where she'd fallen from. "...the tree?" Maybe that was a thing that was done in cities? Maybe humans liked having really clean trees?

"And, uh. I didn't see you. Sorry..." He'd moved fast with that dagger. Faster than Merrick, even. She was glad that he'd caught himself before she'd ended up with that dagger embedded in some vital organ.

"..." Slowly, more due to his shoulder than any real wariness, Zevran rises to his feet and slips the dagger back from wherever it was he'd pulled it in the first place. There are many options to be honest. "Cleaning. The tree. You lie worse than Alistair."

Which in him had been endearing- but he had known the man well and not been startled after winding himself up into an irritable bunch of daggers and paranoia. To be fair ti is not entirely the girl's fault but- rumors of Crow agents somewhere in the surrounding area is enough to have him more on edge than usual. She could have been one of them.

COULD be one of them, if not for the terrible, terrible lying and the marked fact she looked and held herself like an aravel raised Dalish. No amount of Crow training could replicate that. "Call out before you drop unless you intend to ambush someone, yes? Or gore yourself on one of the Qunari."

"It was a dirty tree...all dusty...and stuff--" There was a long pause, then she jerked her head over to where a man was still being talked down from an explosion of anger by a friend. "--I wanted to see if he was really going to punch that templar. But he didn't." Another pause. "And it's a good thing, too. We're all part of the Inquisition now." Or some bullshit like that.

But less about spying on the hilariously short-tempered humans. More about apologizing to the nice elf with too many daggers and too little chill.

Beleth quickly turned back to Zevran, ducking her head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, again...I'll make sure I yell next time. I--Um. I don't want to ambush anyone here. Or, ah. Get gored. That'd probably be pretty bad. Well, I guess it'd be really bad. I don't think the qunari would like it either."

He gives no response until she gave the truth and- well. He could not honestly fault her for keeping an eye on the humans. Survival mechanisms like that kept him alive for all these years, though it was more for reading a room and less idle curiosity. "And we're all very tense. I give it two or three days before there is a brawl in the tavern. It'll give the healers extra work."

And they would be quite cross. Bruce might give them that look and no one truly deserved that sort of unpleasantness in their life.

"Considering how difficult it is to get blood and entrails out of hair? Quite cross. And it'd be a waste of a perfectly lovely elf." It may seem like a sudden change from a scowl to a much more pleasant grin- and it was, but ignore that. Roll with it.

It was both idle curiosity and a survival mechanism--It was interesting to watch, but it was also good to know which of the humans were quick to jump to blows. And which of the humans were willing to step in to stop the fight. That was one of the reasons she was here, after all. Making sure that there was some manner of peace between the humans and her people (while hopefully maintaining at least a courtesy distance). At the mention of a tavern brawl, she wrinkled her nose.

"Sylaise preserve me, I hope not. That's the last thing any of us need." If there was a brawl, she'd have to get Cyril to help her drag Merrick out--If he got really worked up, neither of them would be able to do it by themselves. She doesn't state this opinion to Zevran, because the last thing she needed was some jumpy flat ear targeting Merrick as a point of possible trouble.

Even if he was.

She did give a little smile at his comment, ducking her head. "Well, if I see any lovely elves, I'll be sure to give them the warning."

"No, it will happen. Get enough humans in ill humor together and it's a certainty. Toss in dwarves, elves, and Qunari? It'll happen all the sooner. All of them and mages, and templars from all over thedas? I am surprised it has not happened just yet. Honestly we are one angry fool from it happening." One idiot, that was all it ever took. Most of the elves knew well enough to not be that idiot, as did the dwarves. The Qunari were intimidating enough to be left be.

Zevran's money was on a human or a templar overstepping their boundaries. Then? Then there would be blood in the water and the entire Inquisition soured. Damage control after would take months that they did not have.

It was a horrible time for Hawke and Jonas to be missing- or even Alistair. Zevran did not have the patience for preventing such a thing, only seeing it coming.

"You give yourself too little credit, Bella."

"When are humans not in ill humor." The grouchy observation slips out of her lips before she even thinks about it, and there's a moment of tension where her eyes do a quick scan of the area, making sure no humans had actually heard that. But they were too busy to worry about two elves chatting, and Beleth relaxed slightly, once she was sure she wouldn't have a second dagger in a dozen minutes brandished at her. And she called Zevran jumpy.

"There are plenty of angry fools here. They're angry, and scared, and their hope is gone." She glances around at the other people busy working, her eyes picking out those who look particularly cross or stressed. She can't read a room like Zevran can, but there's at least the beginning of skill, and she lets herself speak as her mind wanders down that path. "They want to fight. When it happens, it'll start as something dumb."

But she pulls herself back to the present--she doubts that Zevran wanted to hear her navel examination. So she just stares at him a moment, then looks markedly confused, tilting her head like a baffled puppy. "...Thank you, but my name is Beleth...?" Markedly close, though.

Finding the objective threats and being mindful of her exits while not being too terribly overt that she is doing so. Zevran is pleased that not all the Dalish he's run into thus far lack the necessary survival skills. A little more instruction and she could be mindful while appearing to not look at all and that? Will keep humans at east long enough for her to plan her exit rather than being merely mindful of it and-

No. He is no Crow Master, picking and choosing who and how to teach. He puts the thought aside.

"Bella, it is Antivan for beautiful woman, and you are." Quite, in the lithe, slightly wild way of most Dalish with a wary edge he can certainly appreciate more than most. Paranoia has never been quite so sexy.

Beleth looked more perplexed by the compliment than bashful, eyes darting left, then right, as if wondering if someone else had walked up and Zevran started speaking to them without notice. With no one else around, she turned back to him, tilting her head. He called her beautiful? She had to resist apologizing for his poor sight--It'd be rude.

"Well--Thank you. Uh. You're, ah...from Antiva, then?" Let's change the subject to something that doesn't involve people calling her weird and alarming things. "You're a long way from home. Did you come here just to help the Inqusition...?" A man from Antiva who was skilled at using daggers...No, Beleth, it's rude to assume, and probably racist.

"Zevran Arainai of Antiva City, yes." He may as well become accustomed to introducing himself as such, if not tacking on 'yes THAT Zevran' at the end. But the odds of her knowing-

Well.

The elves did tend to be the ones that remembered him. Tricky. "I came to offer my skills, which are many. And you have done the same?"

She knew of the Hero of Ferelden. How many nobles came to the Dalish, no matter the clan, to give aid, and ask for it in return? His companions were much more vague. There was a slight frown on her face at the name, because she knew that she'd heard it, at some point, somewhere. But it had been ten years since the blight, and she was a different person than the gangly teenager she'd been when it had all gone down.

"Yes, that's right," She finally says, deciding to ask Pel about the name later. She was always better with that kind of thing (she was better at everything, really). "My clan sent a handful of us. Most of the Dalish here are one of us--I think there's another with the Chargers, but that's it." She's certainly gotten enough comments on it. Everyone seems surprised by the sudden arrival of a crowd of Dalish, and they aren't surprised about it. It makes her nervous, but...everyone's been friendly. So far.

"It is almost like old times. Now all we need are golems marching about to complete the picture." Dalish, mages, and golems oh my. The Inquisition will be well filled with talented and dangerous folk- if they did not kill one another first. Getting the hold into proper shape would do much for the morale he supposed.

"It is a rare thing for one of the people to involve themselves in affair such as this, let alone a group. We are glad to have you."

"Old times? What old times required gol--" If Zevran listened closely, he could probably hear the gears turning, and the sudden clunk with they arrived at the inevitable conclusion. Old times. Golems. An Antivan elf named Zevran. Holy shit. And of course, the inevitable aghast look and wide eyes when she reached that conclusion.

She nearly fell on top of one of the Hero of Ferelden's companions.

"Oh--You're--! Oh, Sylaise preserve me. I am so sorry for not recognizing you...!" And then she quickly ducks her head at him in about as close as she's ever going to get to bowing to anyone. "But, um. Well. We help out when things get serious. This is pretty serious....We think, at least."

At first these moments of gradual recognition had been strange- but by now? They were thoroughly amusing. He crossed his arms and leaned oh so casually against the trunk of the tree that Beleth had jumped from earlier, watching the gears turn. Like a little ticking clock they wound to the precise thought to give her who she was and-

Ah there it was.

The bowing was a nice touch and he shouldn't laugh- but he cannot help it. "Ah, well. Most do not, mm? Being a recognizable assassin tends to be bad for business. All is forgiven."

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Skyhold

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