Skyhold

[faderifting]

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.

Comments

[fleurdesel]

You.

[ It's worn, weary, but pointed. Followed shortly after by a pointing finger. Adelaide has watched this surgeon tend to the sick day in, day out, with barely a word aside from what he needed and precious little rest. As far as she can tell he hasn't stopped to eat either. ]

Henri and Marguerite can hand out poultices to the rest of the line. You're joining me for tea.

[ Her expression, much like her tone, leaves no room for argument. ]

[amygdalae]

[It takes a moment for Bruce to realize that she's actually talking to him, and the surprise shows on his face once it registers.]

I--um. [Pause.] ...now?

[It's kind of not the most appropriate time for it.]

[fleurdesel]

Yes. Now.

[ Do not make her say it again. ]

No one is going to die in the next half hour, poultices and potions will still be handed out and questions asked of those that need to be seen. You need to rest. Come.

[ Even a healer must break for water or a light meal. No one in line would begrudge them- who wants to be seen by an exhausted, hungry surgeon? No one. Adelaide ducks back into her tent, convinced he will follow. When he does he'll find a side table cleared of bandages and poultices and instead set out with bread, butter, a sliced apple and a small wedge of cheese. The kettle is already whistling in the brazier she has set in the corner. ]

[amygdalae]

[Bruce would say that he's really fine and he doesn't need to rest, but its clear that she's not going to take his no as an answer.

Thus with little choice left in the matter, Bruce grudgingly follows her, awkwardly stepping into the tent after and blinking at the sight. It's... well, certainly surprising, that's for sure.]

You really don't have to do this.

[fleurdesel]

Sit. [ She points to the chair with a cushion, usually hers but she needs to stretch her legs a little and he's hunched over in his tent on a wooden stool most likely. Guests may have the better chair. It is only polite. ] Yes, I do. Every day you tend to those that cannot or will not be seen by mages and I have never seen you stop for so much as a meal. Today that changes.

[ The cups are small and chipped but they hold the hot, herbal tea as well as anything else. She pours them out both a measure and offers Buce his first. ]

I have no cream, but I think I may have honey if you like.

[amygdalae]

[Once more, without any real reason to say no, Bruce can do nothing else but to awkwardly settle down on the chair, blinking owlishly at the items that dot the table, especially the tea when offered to him.]

Ah, um--thank you. [He says after a pause, slowly taking the cup of tea and then staring at it.

...yeah, he's really kind of not used to this.]

[fleurdesel]

Drink. Eat. I think I may have a jar of jam somewhere- ah.

[ Something one of the farmers gave her the other day- she wasn't all that sure what was in it other than some manner of berry, but it was tart and it was good. This is added to the table. ]

[amygdalae]

[Another blink when the jar appears, and Bruce--well. Its even clearer than ever how quite out of his depth he is.

He has never been one for socialization.

There's a moment in where Bruce simply kind of stares at the spread on the table, however meager it may it, and then he looks back at her, somewhat perplexed.]

[fleurdesel]

Jam. You put it on bread with butter and then you eat it.

[ Since he's doing a whole lot of nothing, Adelaide rolls her eyes and prepares a plate for him. Slices of bread slathered with butter, topped with jam, a slice of cheese and part of the apple. It is not much- simple fair to be sure, but it is better than nothing. ]

What about this is confusing to you?

[amygdalae]

[Bruce looks down at the sandwich set out in front of him, then back up when she addresses him, giving another blink.]

I just-- [He pauses, hesitates.] --it's not really a normal occurrence for me.

[fleurdesel]

So I have noticed. You keep to yourself and that is fine and well so long as you take care of yourself. You have not, thus this is an intervention.

[ If he ate anything or seemed to actually rest? She'd have let him be. But Compassion bid as Compassion bid and Adelaide begrudgingly did what she was asked. ]

[amygdalae]

[Bruce would say he has taken care of himself - sort of anyway. He goes to eat eventually and he does sleep a bit, so that totally counts... right...?

He stares at the sandwich again for another few more moments before he picks it up, and then after a few more seconds, takes a bite from it.]

[fleurdesel]

...Henri was not lying. You are hopeless.

[ She snorts a soft laugh, sinking into her chair to sip her tea. It is not much, but it is warm and hot and has mint in it. Something to soothe the throat and awaken the mind. ]

[amygdalae]

[He is not hopeless!!

Bruce makes a bit of a face, but doesn't say anything, instead opting to take another bite of the sandwich. He'll just be, you know, eating here. Yes.]

[fleurdesel]

[ Satisfied that he's actually eating and resting, Adelaide does much the same. No prompting for conversation, no further commentary- peace and quiet. Or as close to it as they were likely to get with the wounded outside the tent that would yet need tending. It is not much, but it is something. ]

[amygdalae]

[It is very much a pretty good something.

Bruce continues to eat his sandwich, bit by bit, and even goes to drinking the tea she had left for him earlier. It's all very nice, even if its also surprising. But for once its the nice kind of surprise, and not the usual bad ones.]

[fleurdesel]

[ The silence is a respite- he'd never seemed the type to talk overmuch which speaks of exhaustion or a desire for solitude. Imposing this much of her company on him feels rude enough, but he'd needed to eat.

When he finishes the first bit of bread, she makes up a second and offers it over in turn, as well as filling up his tea should he finish. ]

[amygdalae]

[Bruce is surprised by the second offering, but he takes the bread without complaint this time and eats that too, murmuring a quiet 'thank you' before taking the new cup of tea that had been poured out.

It's really weird, going through this, but it's certainly not bad, and its hard to mind this at all.]

[fleurdesel]

You are welcome.

[ Peace is so rare a thing for those at the healing tents. Sharing a scrap of it with someone that needs it as much as she does- that felt right. Felt kind. Even if he's utterly hopeless. ]

[amygdalae]

[Bruce eventually finishes up the food and tea, and he has to admit that he feels better than he had been previously. Perhaps he did need some refreshments after all.]

I, um. Thank you, again.

[fleurdesel]

Tomorrow, same time. Come on your own or I will fetch you.

[ Much as she had today, though it's not said unkindly. ]

I'll try to have something more substantial then.

[amygdalae]

[Bruce almost replies with the standard - you don't have to - but he has a good feeling that she won't be taking that answer well, so.]

I'll try to remember.

[When he gets busy time does kind of just slip away from him.]

[fleurdesel]

I'll not hold your focus on your work against you, I am very much the same way.

[ But rest was rest- and her students if no one else made certain she knew her limits. ]

Adelaide LeBlanc.

[ She offers her hand. It's a cautious, tense gesture- expected but not something with which she is entirely comfortable. ]

And you are...?

[amygdalae]

[Bruce is also not very used to it himself, but he can pretend well enough when needed, such as now.

He takes her hand in his after a pause, returning the handshake.]

Bruce.

[fleurdesel]

[ It's a brief thing. Palm to palm, quick shake, her hand darts away like a bird afterward leaving not much but the impression of soft skin and perhaps an unnatural warmth. ]

You do good work, Bruce.