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

[dalishious]

It's not as if he has anything against humans, really. Plenty of his Dalish brethren could spend hours flapping their lips about how terrible humans are, that they're responsible for everything bad happening to elves ever, but he isn't one of them. It's simply that Merrick just enjoys a good dragging.

He laughs again, steadily puffing away, feeling himself calm down just a fraction while talking to her. It's quite the feat--though Korrin can't possibly know that.

"You're talking to a living example," he jests along with her.

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin nods, unable to deny that elves -Dalish or otherwise- have it worse than Vashoth and Tal-Vashoth in many ways. It's not a competition, just the truth, and something she's seen with her own eyes often enough. She readjusts her slouching, getting comfortable again.

"Of that, I don't doubt. I overheard one of the Chantry folk in Haven talking about how there were no heroic elves in Andrastianism, as though Shartan never existed. Not sure if she made it here, but I'd love to catch her in a dead stare and see how many seconds it would take to make her run."

[dalishious]

Merrick shrugs, balancing on the back legs of his chair, head falling against the wall behind him. The pipe smokes between his teeth, the soothing scent of tobacco surrounding him.

"I don't care what the Chantry says," he says plainly. "Sisters, mothers, clerics, whatever. They're all useless."

[gatheringstorm]

"Not disagreeing there." Raising her mug to that, Korrin takes a long sip. She doesn't mind certain individual figures, but this isn't a moment to defend them, it's a moment to grouse and she'll take it.

"With the Divine dead, they're all running around like chickens with their heads cut off. They can paint it however they like, but the truth is, they've done practically nothing since the Breach. Words are empty when you have no actions to back them up."