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

What in the world had fallen on him? Not knowing is what is freaking him out the most, because it geels and smells gross. Ugh.

He is further startled by a voice calling out, followed by someone falling from above. For a long moment Sam stares, frozen in place, even as the Elf starts pulling things from around his head. He seems to snap out of it when a hand brushes across his ear as the woman tries to reach for the top of his head.

Sighing, Sam crouches down a bit so she doesn't have to struggle to reach. "I think I am - ugh it's in my hair... What were you doing up there?"

Well, that was polite of him. Now that he's not a foot higher in the air than she is, she can more carefully pick out pieces of twig and straw and a few feathers shed by birds that have probably died by now. A morbid thought. At his word, she produces one of these feathers from his hair, feeling a bit like a bird grooming fellow.

"I was cleaning. Birds evidently liked this room. Easy access, but sheltered from rain and storms, high enough from predators. But, um. You...probably don't care about that! Sorry. I was knocking off old nests." And here she presents the feather to him. If he doesn't take it, she lets it fall, and goes back to trying to clean him up.

"I am really sorry, I didn't hear you come in..." At least he hadn't yelled at her. In fact, he doesn't seem to be really angry at all. Not pleased, but not about to try to throw a fist at her.

He doesn't know what he's going to do with an old bird's feather, but Sam takes it anyways. It's not a raven's feather so he isn't quite sure what kind of bird had been living here before. "We might have to consider making a place for returning birds to go then. At some point this and the other towers are going to be fixed and I don't think we'll want them dropping stuff on people." He twirls the feather idly between his fingers.

Despite how gross and smelly this all is, it does feel kind of nice having someone groom him. Would have been better if it didn't involve birds nests though. "A strange talent I seem to have; sneaking up on people. Or would in this case... under someone?"

"They could stay in the rookery with the ravens." Beleth suggested, before thinking a moment, and smiling, shaking her head. "No, I don't think that would work. Although..." She tilted her head to the feather. "That's a sparrow's feather, if I'm not mistaken. They like barns. We could have them all hang out in the barn. But that might get messy...I'll report it to Scout Harding next time I see her. She can pass the problems onto the higher ups. They can deal with the birds."

It's not her problem. That's what she keeps telling herself. Tell your boss, she talks to the important people. It's an efficient system, and one that removes Beleth from having to deal with anyone that could be construed as important.

She clucks her tongue as she finishes removing the debris from Sam's hair, and then starts trying to smooth his hair back down. "I don't know how you managed. Are you another scout? A rogue?"

Sam snorts at that. "Doubt that would work at all. No one in the libraries would enjoy it. The ravens are at least trained. Though I hardly think the higher ups are going to care about birds so much at the moment. They've got bigger things to worry about." He doesn't know much about birds so there isn't much he could offer.

At feeling his hair getting smoothed out, Sam makes a face. "Definitely going to need to wash up again." Sooner than later. Sweat and dirt was one thing, but bird things? No.

Oh so she was a scout? That... made sense. "Neither actually. Blacksmith." He pauses, dusting off his arms a bit, then shrugs. "Mage. Got used to having to move quietly."

"That's true. And maybe the birds will just find other places to nest on their own. I guess I won't worry about it, unless it becomes a problem." She shrugs, and steps away, once Sam looks more or less how he had before Beleth started pitching things at him. She gave him a sympathetic look when he mentioned washing up. "Yeah...I really am sorry."

Well. That was an interesting combination of skills. Mage and blacksmith. She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, wondering how in the world he came to be both of those. But...she wasn't going to ask. It was probably personal, and she'd just been rude enough already.

"Ah. Well--Listen, next time you're in the tavern, I'll get you a drink, alright? As an apology."

Oh? Someone who wasn't going to comment about his interesting combination of talents? Well that was a first. "Just a bit dirty, no big deal." He gives a shrug as he stands back up, stretching a bit at having to crouch down.

"You don't have to... but if you're going to insist, that'll be an easy order. I don't drink, but we can probably figure something."

Beleth isn't RUDE. Or she tries not to act like it. But at his words, she raises an eyebrow. He doesn't drink? That was weird. But once again, she decides not to question it. Instead, she just shrugs. "I'll get you something that isn't alcoholic--tea, or something like that. Just let me know next time we're both in the tavern." She turns to leave, and only stops as something occurs to her.

"--I'm Beleth. Of Clan Ashara."

Sam smiles at that. "I actually really like tea. That would be great actually." And just as quickly as she had dropped in she was leaving. Sam chuckles at that.

So she is Beleth.

"Samouel. You can just call me Sam. Hopefully I won't see you at the healers' tents, Beleth. Careful with the climbing."

Skyhold

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