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

[el_tybs]

Sam sighs at how the man doesn't quite directly answer his questions, but still answering them the same. He's still rather miffed about having a dagger thrown at his head, but at how the Elf is acting now he can only gather up a tiny bit of annoyance.

He takes a step, stops, then fully turns around and returns to where he had been sitting before. Sam is quiet for a time, digging through the basket, but eventually he holds up an apple.

"There's some bread and cheese as well," he offers with a tilt of his head.

[dalishious]

Merrick wastes no time. He takes the proffered food and sits down on the ground to start wolfing it down. He eats like a dog, sharp incisors tearing at the bread he'd been given.

He had no idea how hungry he was until now. Since the fight, there have been tight knots in his throat and stomach, as if twine had wrapped around them.

[el_tybs]

The food is gone from his hand before he even realizes it, so quickly in fact that Sam has to wonder if it simply had disappeared.

Watching the Elf eat is the same experience as it had been watching him practice; he tears into the bread without mercy and such ferocity. Sam actually leans back a bit, his eyes a bit wide, at how quickly the bread is being devoured. Cautiously he nudges his mug of water in the other's direction, hand already pulling out some more bread.

[dalishious]

He snatches the water too and drinks it down, then finally breaks for air. It's amazing how much better eating can make a person feel; suddenly Merrick can feel the sun on his face and how nice the wind feels, and he finally starts to relax.

He hands the mug back. "Thanks," he mutters.

[el_tybs]

"You're welcome," he replies back easily, still watching the Elf curiously. The way he had eaten Sam would have guessed he had gone without food for much longer.

"So I take it that whatever has/is upsetting you is the reason you forgot to eat?" He asks curiously but cautiously. He looks a lot less angry now that he's eaten.

[dalishious]

"Do you think I'm going to start talking to you just because I'm not starving anymore?" Merrick replies, though there's little venom in it. He sounds more skeptical than anything.

[el_tybs]

"No." A short pause. "Maybe not have any daggers thrown at my head because of it though. Figured you'd want to talk since we're sitting together and you need a break from stabbing straw." Sam gives an easy shrug at that, eyes going back to the carving.

[dalishious]

"I didn't throw it at your head," Merrick says stubbornly. "I threw it next to your head."

[el_tybs]

"Oh." A blink. "Alright, near my head then. I don't do well with pointy deadly things getting that close in any case." Well wasn't he feisty.

[dalishious]

"If I wanted to kill you you'd be dead." It's a short statement, said with finality.

Merrick curls up then, pulling his knees up toward his chest. The movement makes him smaller, shrinks down the towering presence his anger often took. He takes out another, smaller carving and starts to chip away at it with one of the smaller knives he keeps on his person (he keeps a lot of knives on his person), falling silent.

[el_tybs]

"How reassuring." So far all his interactions with the Dalish had been rather friendly, or overly friendly in a certain case, but this was. He wasn't expecting everyone to be his friend, but the animosity was indeed something. Because he was Human? That could be it.

For a long while Sam stays silent, crossing his legs in front of him, simply watching what the Elf is doing. The fact that he isn't storming off must mean he does want to rest, or at least let the food digest. He also wasn't trying to get as far away from him as possible so he was being tolerated to a point.

Sam gives a sigh, looking around the yard after a while so it doesn't seem like he's just watching - even if he is. Though when his eyes do land back on the Elf he tilts his head, taking note of the mark on his face. Wasn't Cyril tracing that design out for him before? Who was he-

"Are you Merrick?"

[dalishious]

Merrick never lets his attention be caught up on one single thing. He can't; the moment he gets distracted is the moment the animal he's hunting runs off, or the moment someone gets the drop on him. So he's been aware of Sam's presence, conscious of his movements and all the sounds around them-- but only now it's enough for him to actually look over at the human near him.

"How do you know that?" he asks. He's not particularly surprised--after yesterday's spectacle, he's certain people have asked around, but had this human been one of them? He tensed up, prepared for the worst.

[el_tybs]

Ah, so it is him. Now that he knows that he can see what Cyril was talking about. And also what Zevran was talking about - dark haired, dark skinned Dalish who also knew Cyril. Oh. Well better be careful then.

Especially now that he can see Merrick tensing up. Great!

Chuckling nervously Sam raises his hands in a surrender motion. "Cyril mentioned you. He was telling me bit about everyone that came here from your clan. Pointy daggers and the vallaslin? gave it away."

[dalishious]

"Cyril?" Merrick snorted, then went back to his carving. "Why am I not surprised."

[el_tybs]

Well that went well. For the most part.

"Has a strange habit of talking to odd humans?"

[dalishious]

"Sure, if that's what you want to call it," is the nonchalant, faintly amused reply.

[el_tybs]

"Well considering I don't know what else to call it, I'll just keep going with that." At this point Sam vaguely has an idea, but doesn't really dwell on it.

"What are you making this time?" He nods his head towards the new carving.

[dalishious]

Merrick doesn't let him change the subject, rolling his eyes.

"You're a bipedal male with a pulse," he drawls. "I really, really doubt he just talked to you."

[el_tybs]

Maybe going along that path had not been the smartest idea. Good job, Sam, you set your own trap and walked right into it.

He's silent for a long while, contemplating on what he should say. Cyril had specifically told him that if Merrick knew then he'd be wary, but also to not lie about it. Course just not saying anything would probably be just as bad.

"Oh. Well glad you aren't shocked then."

[dalishious]

He huffs out another laugh then, taking a break from carving to sand some of the edges down.

"If I was shocked every single time I found out my brother slept with someone, I'd have died from heart failure a long time ago."

[el_tybs]

Well he knew Cyril had previous experience. Getting an idea of how much experience was a different thing. Just a little weird, considering he was still coming to terms after meeting up with the silver haired Elf again.

At least Merrick was finding this amusing.

"... now are you going to tell me what you're carving?" Because continuing to talk about sleeping with Cyril with Merrick sounds oh so fun. It's sarcasm.