[open + closed]

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict, Barrow, Teren, Fifi, whoever
WHAT: general catch all
WHEN: gestures vaguely
WHERE: gestures vaguely again
NOTES: hmu if you want something bespoke or honestly just throw something at me, I trust you

*~* starters in comments *~*

Comments

[brennvin]

She squints back at him, temporarily lost. “Big chains? Thought Kirkwall was the City of Chains. The ones in the harbour fucking up the boats. You got harbour chains too?”

[thereneverwas]

He shakes his head. "For the dam," he clarifies, and then slowly gathers himself to proclaim, "big dam chains."

[brennvin]

It takes Astrid a moment, wondering if she heard that right, before she proclaims fondly, “Idiot,” and scoops up her cards and holds them close to her chest, squinting at them and trying to figure out her hand.

“That for draining your lake? I know some holds were experimenting with hydro — waterfalls in the mountains, using water wheels to power stuff — but they’ve not gotten very far. It keeps breaking when shit freezes over in winter. I don’t really know how it works.”

She’s not the Master of Works here.

“But what besides big dam chains? Like, if you ever got up into the mountains, I’d say you need to see the waterfalls. They are lovely, even frozen over; it’s like an ice sculpture.”

[thereneverwas]

Barrow grins over his own cards, pleased by his comedic prowess.

"Aye, for the lake," he confirms, and is content then to let the topic move on to frozen waterfalls. Nothing about Crestwood is going to top that, he can say for certain,

"dunno." He plays a card. "There's cows. They can be sculptural too, when they're asleep."

[brennvin]

“Are you ‘specially passionate about cows?” Astrid asks, skeptical; the gears turning in her head, considering options for her next woodworking hobbyist project.

“I s’pose I could carve you a cow for your next nameday or Satinalia. I thought cats but then that was too obvious, like; plus you don’t really need a wooden cat when you’ve already got so many real ones—”

[thereneverwas]

"Am I-- no."

He laughs, however, because now he's trying to decide what being passionate about cows would actually look like, and is hesitant to dictate his findings in the presence of a lady. Even if it's Astrid.

"Hard to be passionate about a thing when you're shoveling its shit," he adds, "I suppose. ...maybe not for everyone." he doesn't know the whole world, who is he

[brennvin]

Listen, please, it’s just Astrid, be as uncouth as you like —

She tries to juggle half of her attention for Wicked Grace as they chat. She draws a card, plays another, and her expression immediately gives her away with an annoyed frown at her new hand. Her hand is fucked.

“People walk around picking up their pet dogs’ shit and they still like their dogs. Does that count?”

[thereneverwas]

He laughs at her, all while showing no mercy in beating her hand-- it is, after all, Astrid-- "I didn't say I don't like cows."

Settling back to drink from his mug, he seems content in his victory for now, "but there's a difference between liking something and being passionate about it, innit?"

[brennvin]

“For sure.” Astrid isn’t a sore loser; she rolls her eyes and throws in her cards before scooping up more, a fresh slate, trying again.

“So if it isn’t cow-fucking,” said easily, teasingly, but what follows is a real question: “What are you passionate about, then? I know for Lazar it’s grand lar-cen-y.”

They’ve lived in such close proximity for a while now, she likes to think she and Barrow are friends, but he’s right: they don’t know too much about each other yet.

[thereneverwas]

Neither is Barrow a sore winner, transitioning into the next game without protest. He does chuckle at Lazar's passion-- bet there are more than that-- but pauses to consider his hand when it occurs to him he isn't actually sure about his own.

"Dunno that I'm passionate about a thing," he muses, "I like working with the siege weapons. Fixing 'em. I like training folks." He likes sitting around and bullshitting with his coworkers, and drinking, and holding cats.

He shrugs uselessly at Astrid with a little smile.

[brennvin]

Okay, in fairness she was wrong, it’s grand larceny and big tits —

“I heard you and Abella were working on that, yeh,” she says, scrutinising her new hand; she’s holding it a little too slack, tilted at an angle where Barrow can easily see her cards. Realising it a little too late, she jolts backward and cradles them closer to her chin.

“Is it firing the big siege weapons that does it for you? I could see that. Like blowin’ a load from the world’s biggest dick. Might be overcompensating a bit with the ballistae, though.”

sorry she’s like this

[thereneverwas]

If he notices her cards (and he does), he doesn't show it-- poor Astrid is suffering enough as it is, he doesn't need to fleece her for all she's worth. He's still going to, though.

Her comparison, however, catches him off-guard with a big roaring laugh, and he nearly shows his own hand in the process, rocking forward to pound once on the table.
"Fuck you, I don't need to compensate for anything," he rumbles back, once he can breathe again, "but you know what? Sure. Love to blow a big load from the world's biggest dick. All over Kirkwall."

His resulting chuckle is suspiciously giggle-like, which is a treat in itself coming from such an imposing frame.

[brennvin]

Astrid’s grin broadens; mostly looking down at her cards, but she shoots an impish look up at Barrow, delighted to have hit the right button, caused that burst of laughter.

“Sounds like it’d be well-deserved. Not that I know much about this town in general, but, like, it’s haunted as fuck innit? The Gallows is nice, though.”

Sometimes atrocious vibes — just look at the name — but in all their years here, Riftwatch has made it more homey, more comfortable, more inviting, even with the reconstruction. Even the makeshift tavern they’re in right now, it’s good for morale.

[thereneverwas]

"Is it?" Barrow laughs-- the Gallows, nice-- but doesn't argue. It has its charms.

"Dunno that Kirkwall would deserve it, to tell the truth. Dunno that it deserves any of this. Or us." He shrugs a shoulder, take a drink. They're here anyway.

[brennvin]

“Okay, maybe not Kirkwall as a whole. Just—”

The templars, the Circle of Magi and how it’d gone so horrifically wrong. She’d gathered enough history and gossip from drunk locals in the city bars about it, heard them singing some drinking song about a red lyrium corpse. But Astrid remembers just a moment too late who she’s talking to and so she abandons that sentence, instead frowning down at her cards again. Pivot topics, pivot, pivot—

She’d gotten one up, clawing her way back into the mix, but now it’s another hand lost, an exhale of exaggerated annoyance which isn’t really annoyance. Astrid slides her cards back across the table.

“Good thing we’re not gambling with cash.” She’d probably have lost it all by now.

[thereneverwas]

"Just?" Barrow presses, but gently-- if she shrugs him off, he'll let it go.

"Take a break, if you want," he adds with a grin, tossing his cards down, "hate to kick someone who's already down."

[brennvin]

Astrid rolls her eyes, but she does give in, setting down her cards. “Next time, we’re rolling bone-dice,” she says.

And—

“And just, y’know. The templars. Heard they were particular assholes over here Kirkwall way.”

[thereneverwas]

"Fine," he concedes, with a twinkle in his eye that suggests he will Make This Difficult-- but it fizzles away into something gentler at what she says next.

"Oh. Yeah. So I hear." He begins to collect the cards, shuffling them, "things were real bad 'round then, in lots of places. Think it all sort of came to a head."

[brennvin]

“Yeh. I know shit got bad down in the Hinterlands,” Astrid admits, “but I didn’t see much of it up in the mountains. Didn’t really reach us besides hearing about Haven. Mum kept me out of the lowlands that summer.”

This isn’t exactly what she’d meant to trip into, his prodding only accidentally dislodging it. She pauses, quickly pivots on a conversational heel: “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t like.”

[thereneverwas]

Blowing out a puff of air at the mention of Haven, Barrow nods. Haven's not Crestwood, but it's still Ferelden, still the same sort of people; they all felt it.

"S'all right," he says, lapsing back into a tentative smile, "got no love for the Order, really. Things were fucked from all directions."

maybe a wrap?

[brennvin]

“True enough,” Astrid agrees.

And even though he’s given her the stamp of approval to talk about it, she doesn’t press harder, doesn’t try to dig deeper just yet. Even with the Andrastianism all over him (who names their kid Obeisance?), she forgets sometimes that that was where he came from, and it is in fact easier to let herself forget: templars, bogeymen, someone far more likely to be chased out of Avvar mountains than given welcome. They wouldn’t have liked what they’d see up there.

So she grabs their empty mugs instead, half-rising from her seat: “Another round?”

And she’ll seize that distraction and refill their drinks, and the conversation will meander and trundle onward, and it’ll be a nice day, really.

ties bow

[thereneverwas]

"Count me in."