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

Maxwell was tall for many. He now understand how they must have feel, head having to tip back just to meet his eye.

Thankfully for him, Gorse seemed to take his root bath well.

"As have I," he replied, ducking his head politely. (You could take the noble out of Ostwick...) "Maxwell Trevean, and I promise throwing things is not how I typically introduce myself."

Gorse rather quickly tried to imitate the head bow when Maxwell did it - it was an uncommon gesture for him but he was trying to learn local custom and the like.

At least he was careful not to bump heads with Max in the process. Had to be careful of that what with horns and all.

"Awful nice to meet you, Maxwell - you'd sure be pretty memorable if that was your standard, though. Little dirt never hurt no one. Uh, probably. Like maybe if you had a dirt allergy or something...?"

Could you be allergic to dirt?

"'Awful' perhaps being the operative word," he joked, chuckling softly. "But I appreciate the nice."

He brushed his hands together, rubbing off dirt and then rested them on his hips with an exhale.

"And thankfully, I would think anyone who were would steer clear. So I don't think I'll be sending anyone into that sort of shock."

Gorse scratched at the back of his head thoughtfully before he nodded at Maxwell's comment.

"It'd be pretty silly to hang out in a garden if you had an allergy to things in it." Nevermind that dirt was everywhere so... you'd probably be screwed either way.

"At least it wasn't spiders," he offered with a wry smile. "I got someone with those yesterday."

Maybe he should start keeping a list. Or warning everyone in the vicinity before he started working.

"Like the big ones? How'd you lift one?"

Like, no offense Max but you're kinda wee and tiny. Compared to Gorse. Also there's no real reasoning with the big ones.

The small ones, though, well they were just tiny and trying to go about their life, what was wrong with one falling on you except for the initial surprise of it?

"Wha-- no, no," he said quickly, though unfortunately not before the image was in his head. He couldn't stop a small, unpleasant shudder. "House spiders."

Good, normal, small spiders.

"I was cleaning in the basement and, well, I caught someone downwind-- as if apparently become my habit."

Okay, Gorse had to laugh a little at that. Not a mean laugh, just a little good-natured chuckle.

"Maybe y'need a net behind you or somethin? Like those basket backpacks. Was the person and the spider okay?"

"There's an idea," he said with a small chuckle. "Thankfully, other than an ruined coif, he seemed to come out of it okay. And I assume the spiders scurried off somewhere."

He hadn't actually seen where they'd gone, but that was fine by him. Out of sight, out of mind.

"With any luck, they'll set up somewhere besides the library we need."

"You will regret that sentiment when someone 'nevitibly brings their lunch with them to read and the flies set in on the crumbs." Gorse warned, though it was with a smile. Spiders had a way of being where they were needed, he felt, like most things.

Wandering into their webs and getting them all wrapped around his horns was a bit annoying though, he could agree with that sense.

"They can have all flies they like, just... not in front of me," he said slowly, a touch of color creeping up from around his collar. It was silly, he knew it, but he couldn't help it. "I know, I know, all the Maker's creatures and all that - it's the they move, and all the hair..."

He shook himself again, making a small sound in the back of his throat.

"Ahhh, sorry, sorry, I'll stop talkin' bout them. Lot a people are afraid of 'em though, even the little ones, nothin' to be embarrassed about." Gorse had yet to meet an animal or insect that brought him fear, but he knew some found certain bugs to be off-putting. Even if they weren't the size of a horse.

"I'm not--" he started, then stopped with a sigh, a wry smile tipping his mouth to one side. "Okay, maybe I am a little, but I'm fine so long as they keep their distance. So if you see any, please pass the word along if you would."

"I most certainly will. I'm good at gettin' animals to listen to me, I'm sure the spiders will steer clear of you once they hear to." Gorse said with a smile. Well, it wouldn't make a damn difference, there was little reasoning to things without a brain, but the placebo effect worked wonders sometimes?

Maxwell knew it wouldn't do anything, they were spiders, not people, but if he couldn't poke fun as his own shortcoming that was just sad.

"Thank you." He ducked his head in friendly acquiescence, and then nodded in the direction Gorse had been going. "Now, that settled, I seem to be done here, is there anything you'd like help with?"

It was, after all, the very least he could do after giving the man a dirt bath.

Gorse laughed easily, the kinda laugh that is with you and never at you, shared between two friends. Because since they have talked, they are now friends! That's how it works, you see.

"How do you feel about moving dead branches into a compost heap? More fun than it sounds, I promise! Oh, there's probably caterpillars in there though, the little fuzzy ones, but I checked for spiders already."

Because he is in fact the kind to rescue bugs from certain doom and place them someplace safer.

Maxwell smiled, handsome and bright.

"I think I can manage that, caterpillars and all," he replied, gesturing for Gorse to lead the way.

[OOC: wrap?]

Skyhold

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