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

Theoretically, Varric was used to people stopping through and interrupting him. In practice, though, most people didn't actually stop, they just sort of slowed down and tried to read what he was writing. Almost nobody actually came up to him and put something down--most of his deliveries were too cumbersome to allow for that.

Varric stopped writing, mid-sentence, and looked up at the elf who'd strolled up. He was probably still scowling, nothing ruined a day quite like dealing with the merchant's guild, but he tried to affect a more friendly appearance as she explained. It worked, for the most part.

"You..." It was a little worrying just how long it took him to process why she was here. Clearly he needed a break. "You brought me poultice? For hand cramps?"

Yes, that would be exactly what she'd just said. Varric took a quick breath and snapped himself out of it. His pen was abandoned with gusto and, instead, he picked up the jar and gave it a good look. His smile was automatic and surprised.

"Well this is a surprise," Varric added cheerfully. "I can't imagine what I did to deserve a gift this thoughtful, or any gift really, so if you're trying to bribe me...well, it's working."

For a moment, she just stared at him, puzzled by his words. Was it that surprising to offer the poultice? Did she break some kind of human (dwarf) social code? Was she supposed to bribe him? She quickly recovered, however, giving a little shrug, and rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. When in doubt, try to look flustered and embarrassed and hopefully they will find this endearing enough to not think you're a fucking weirdo.

"That man, um. With the bear fur. And the hair--" Here, she took a moment, to sort of mime Cullen's hair. The hair, Varric. "--Said that everyone is part of the Inquisition now. That means we're working together. And, ah. I think I have the easier job, if it doesn't involve having to scowl at paper all day." And have another shrug for good measure. "I hope that's not...weird..."

There's a small pause, and she glances off to the side thoughtfully. "I mean, if you want me to try to bribe you, the only thing I can think of is talking all the dust in this place to move elsewhere. Although, even if you could do that, I think I'd need a bigger bribe." She offered a nervous smile at the weak joke. "Otherwise, you don't owe me anything."

Fortunately, this wasn't the first time he'd been faced with a Dalish elf and a bit of social awkwardness. She was doing admirably, really she was, and the fact that the situation at hand involved exactly no blood magic or gangs was absolutely a point in her favor. She'd brought him a poultice. For hand cramps. Because she thought his job was hard.

Varric usually had a better poker-face than this, he was a businessman and it didn't do well to go beaming at anyone who came up and offered you things for free, but he couldn't help himself. Yes, he was pleased with the gift, but mostly it was her magnificently specific miming of Curly--he would have paid money to see that and here she'd just done it spontaneously.

Varric was silent as she offered up a nervous smile and tried not to look directly at him. In her defense, silent and smiling was rarely a good combination. Thankfully, he snapped out of it rather quickly.

"You," Varric announced and pointed at her with his free hand. The other held the jar of poultice and he cast it a moderately amazed look. "I like you."

It was a definitive statement if there ever was one. He looked back at her.

"And you do an amazing Cullen. Remind me to pick you if we ever partner up for charades."

He liked her.

That was both pleasing, and rather alarming, because she's slightly afraid that if her claim to fame becomes her amusing mimicry of Cullen, that the commander might catch on. Well--what could he do? Can you get put in prison for that? Was it illegal to mime important members of the Inquisition?? There was one way to find out.

"If anyone suggests a round of charades here, I'll be sure to remind you. I'm not sure how the actual game would go, but it'd be worth a shot. Maybe just bring some buckets of water in case things get caught on fire..." With the way tempers have been flaring, it was good to exercise caution. Even with charades.

Especially with charades.

She paused again, then put a hand to her chest, nodding to him.

"Um--My name is Beleth. Of Clan Ashara. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Skyhold

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