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

[hugeinorlais]

Varric was a keen observer of people. This was mostly due to necessity and a desire not to be stabbed in a backalley of Kirkwall, but that didn't make his skills any less valuable outside of backalley related circumstances. The Mages and Templars were all about as high-strung as you'd expect from people who, up until a week or two ago, were trying their very hardest to murder each other. Everyone else was tense, but not quite on the verge of...well...wholesale warfare.

This made mealtimes and gatherings a bit unfortunate. Everyone glaring across the room, telling the sort of stories that fell silent every few minutes to allow for more glaring. It was like holiday dinners with the family.

Varric had tried to tell a few stories, get people smiling and laughing, but with only a watered down Ferelden Lager to bridge the gap between stone-cold-sober and not-unfriendly, it was an uphill battle. With the new shipment of West Hill brandy, though, the tavern was lively and practically not murderous. In fact, it was downright merry in places.

There was an elf by the hearth who was doing a grand job of making everyone around him laugh. Varric hadn't caught the beginning of the story, but the way he gesticulated, really throwing himself into the telling, made up for whatever he'd missed. Hell, he had the crowd on the edges of their seats (some of them literally), and Varric couldn't help but be a little impressed as he stopped to listen.

[samahl]

Once the story was done he noticed the dwarf watching and grinned as he came closer. "What are you drinking, stranger?" he asked. There was something in his face that showed that he recognized at least a little bit of Varric's features from the back covers of his book. He was surprised by how much of the muscle in those paintings turned out to not be exaggerated.

He had heard that the author was here but he didn't want to crowd Varric with fan questions if he'd rather relax.

[hugeinorlais]

"Oh, just the house special," Varric replied with ease. The beer was terrible, everybody knew it, especially Cabot, which is why nobody ever said so within earshot of the dwarf. The elf was friendly but giving him an odd look. He didn't look like the sort that Varric owed money to, and he definitely wasn't the sort of person those people hired, so he didn't see any harm in stopping for a chat.

If nothing else, you never knew when you'd need to write an enthusiastic narrator character into a story. It was always nice to have a template in mind when he needed it.

"Got to say, you certainly know how to tell a story," Varric said. "But I feel tired just watching you. Why don't you pull up a seat and let Maryden do a set?"

[samahl]

Cyril chuckled a bit and then settled next to Varric as soon as they both had their drinks. Well, as soon as Varric had his. Cyril was still nursing the one he has ordered a few hours ago. It was mostly still full.

"I suppose I ought to, hm?" he asked. "It is her job, after all."

[hugeinorlais]

As if on cue, Maryden stepped forward and started (loudly) singing a song about something or another. Varric was only half listening...well, probably closer to a quarter-listening, because he had a new drinking buddy.

"So, what's you name? I'd call you Dalish but one of the Charger's has already got dibs on that one."

[samahl]

"I'm Cyril," he replied. "Cyril of Clan Ashara." He grinned at Varric. "And I know who you are, though I have to say that your book covers don't do justice to the chest hair."