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

Eirlys can't help but laugh a little too. "They are. And their horns! Once I had someone try to sell me the horns, dragging them through the alienage, thinking I could grind them into powder. But they have no medicinal properties whatsoever."

She hesitates at Ellana's question, thinking of the circumstances that had led to her being alone. "Sort of. I was travelling with my employer, he insisted on travelling to the conclave." On the reasoning of selling potions, but Eirlys was certain that Tess was involved somehow. 'Employer' is a very deliberate choice of words too, one that she's made sure to stick to here, having hated 'master' and 'servant', seeing it only as one step up from 'slave'. "There were demons. Well there were demons everywhere, weren't there, but we stumbled right across some of them. I was lucky to get away alive."

"Really?" That makes Ellana laugh, picturing such a scene in her head. She has a pretty good imagination, and she imagines the strain on the person's face as he attempts to drag two horns while elves give him perplexed looks.

"Oh, no," she says, sobering quickly. "What a terrible thing to experience. But this place is much safer."

She glances around at the high stone walls of Skyhold, thinking of the mountains cradling the castle from the rest of the world. "It's seemed safer so far, at least."

"It must be, if it's as they say and was so well hidden that no one has been here for awhile." Of course she's heard the building was elven first, and taken over by humans later, and she can see the proof of that in the architecture.

"It was built by our people, you know. That big owl statue over the doors to the main hall? That's the symbol of Falon'Din, the god of death and fortune." She only says this since she assumes as a city elf, Eirlys worships the humans' Maker.

Eirlys gazes around at the high walls and proud towers of Skyhold with a new sense of awe. "Elves built all of this?" She reaches out and brushes her fingers against the cornerstone of the wall nearest her almost reverently, as though some of the great history here would run from the building into her.

"Yes. Elves built a great many things. I've heard there are ruins all over southern Orlais, and in Ferelden, in the Brecilian Forest. I hope one day I can go see them." She smiles at Eirlys touching the wall, feeling similar to her. If only touching the stone could unlock something, like voices from the past, whispering their secrets to the elves seated here.

"But this place must have magic woven into it to have survived the years. It's a little run down, but hardly a ruin at all."

"I never thought that they'd build castles and the like." Her voice still holds a touch of awe. "Even more has been lost than I can begin to envision."

"That is why the Dalish preserve what we can. The Keeper knows all our lore that has survived, and they teach the First. Our storyteller knows plenty of tales as well. And we all learn what bits of the elven language is left to us." There's a pause, before she gently asks, "Is it the same in the city? I don't know what traditions and tales the elves of the cities have kept."

Eirlys' cheeks flush bright red in her sudden embarrassment. She'd always held her head up in the face of humans, but in the face of a Dalish elf she feels utterly inadequate. "There isn't much we've been able to hold onto," she admits. "I remember when I was young, there was an ancient, beautiful tree in the middle of the alienage. Vhenadahl, the Hahren called it." She pronounces the Elvish with a slightly odd intonation, having no other similar sounding words for context. "But we had to chop it down for firewood when the refugees came through during the Blight."

"Vhenadahl," she repeats, face lighting up. "That means the tree of the People. 'Vhen' is people, and 'adahl' means a tree or bush. It's a shame it had to be cut down, but at least it was for a good cause. It helped people."

Ellana shifts a little, noting the blush to Eirlys's cheeks. "Is it all right that I do that? Tell you what the words mean. You look... I don't want to tell you things you don't wish to know." She's always heard that the city elves gave in and gave up; that they lost themselves. But do they want to get that part back, if it's offered? Ellana isn't sure.

"Oh no, no!" she protests quickly, not realising that was the impression she'd given. "I'd love to know anything you want to share with me. So few of the elves from the cities ever get a chance to learn anything about our past. I just feel as though I'm a little underwhelming in comparison."

"But we're of the same people and yet you've lived a completely different life to me. I want to know about you." Ellana's been so isolated, that it's only been stories and the occasional book that has given her any outside perspective until now. She's hungry for more knowledge.

"What would you like to know?"

"Anything at all!" She hardly knows where to begin. "We've lost everything -- or, well, it was taken from us." 'Lost' suggests that it was their fault rather than that of their oppressors, forced to adapt to their culture but always relegated to the peripheries. "I'd love to know how you live and what you've been able to keep from our past."

"Well," Ellana begins, hoping she doesn't give away just yet how she really doesn't like the way her people choose to live. "We keep our belonging in aravels -- wagons with sails -- and ask the halla to pull them for us. That is how you treat a halla. They're our friends, not work animals. We try to stay close to a water source, and the forest if we can. Whenever our hunters say the humans are starting to gather, we have to pack up and move on." There's a tiny bit of bitterness to her tone.

"We keep shrines to the gods, and a statue of Fen'harel also faces out from our camp to appease him."

Skyhold

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