If You Come Back | { OTA }

[aforethought]

WHO: Melys Auldwine + [ Malcolm Reynolds, Rafael, Bruce Banner ] + YOU!
WHAT: Arriving at Skyhold, some unexpectedly familiar faces, rampaging poultry.
WHEN: Mid-to-late Wintermarch, at various times.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: Language, feathery mayhem. Will add warnings as necessary.

Starters below. Please feel free to wildcard me!

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[aforethought]

"Where d'you want me?"

The girl don't need to ask twice, but Melys isn't about to go spooking her pet off without by-your-leave. One chicken, that's not a disaster — maybe you get enough back from the beast for stock.

A whole henhouse, though, and that's a talk she doesn't intend to have. Melys squats low, angling aside Araceli with arms out and waiting. The wisdom of keeping a fox in a keep, that's something to question a little later on down the line.

[foxsays]

"I'll count, you can grab it or shoo it, whatever works."

Before now no one had chickens running wild.

"On three, one, two-" But she doesn't count to three, going on two and grabbing the fox tight around the middle because he goes with a plan and Araceli always goes on three. But this time she gets hold of him, even as he wriggles in her grip, lifting him clean off the ground hopefully right as Melys can get the chicken out of the way. "As soon as he can't see it he'll stop caring, he'll be more interested in you, I promise."

[aforethought]

She darts down for the chicken as Araceli grabs Lux, turning immediately aside to shove it into another, waiting set of hands. The bird squawks and cries out in grievously-offended fashion, for all of about thirty seconds before its feathery little brain catches up and reminds itself that it's content.

Pointing down the lane and murmuring something about the cage, Melys gets their impromptu assistant started off walking before turning back to face the girl.

"Maker, you're quick."

It's approving. Melys rocks back on her heels, eyeing the fox warily. You saw village kids with them from time to time, back home. A mother would get trapped, and if the season wasn't too lean to spare the meat, a couple of kits'd get their lives pleaded for. Not many stuck around after getting grown and wild; there were a fair share of shed tears over runaways.

"The both of you, I figure." She dusts here hands carefully on her pants, before offering the left out to sniff. He's no little fennec, that's for certain. Proper sort of fox. "Could do with a little less of that, I'm sure."

[foxsays]

"A thief usually has to be or she's not a thief for very long." There's not a moment of hesitation in her voice because she was a very good thief when she was one, and she still is though there's very little call to do any thieving around the Inquisition.

When the fox is set down again, there's not a hint of shame about his behaviour, not when he fluffs himself up and immediately shoves his nose int Melys' hand, tail wagging. Bolder than any of the little fennecs that tend to roam the wilds here, though that's less to do with his size and much more to do with stowing away aboard a pirate ship to end up in the care of Araceli when he was just a pup.

"Usually, he behaves far better but maybe a hen to a fox is an irresistible temptation, I apologise on his behalf. Skyhold itself has little excitement to offer, I'm afraid."

[aforethought]

That raises an eyebrow. Where Melys is from, the thieves who talk are the ones who get caught. Thieves who crow on it are retired, liars, or storybook heroes —

It's disconcerting, the reminder that she's living in hero country now. Ain't no safe kind of place, not for anyone committed to a bit part. But the girl's vibrant, and pretty, and it ain't no great leap to figure how a mind could wander from its purse listening to her talk. At seventeen, Melys would've followed her around swooning.

The benefits to being old and crotchety as dirt: You can blow all of your attention on cute animals instead.

"Hope I don't gotta check my pockets after this," She jokes, scratching at Lux's ears. "I'm dearly attached to that dust and string."

She shakes her head.

"But you don't got nothing to apologize for. It's whoever sealed them birds up this morning that I want a toothful of. Damn thing weren't barely half-latched. How long you had him?"

[foxsays]

Technically she’s retired. At the grand old age of twenty. A career change is entirely more accurate but it’s not the sort of thing you shout from the rooftops, at least not here with a mark on your hand and a witness who watched you fall through a rift. So paranoia on her part almost certainly but she would rather not stand out and thief is an easy thing to say, to sound so very bold too, as if you care not one fig what the world will think of you.

More difficult to say that you were a thief up until thieving turned you into a guard for the queen, playing something not so unlike the game. It makes it easier to talk to people, smiling and flirting, saying how little she understands this world, please help whilst forgetting nothing. The thief knows the value of information even more than a guard does.

“I don’t steal in Skyhold, too many are needy. I’ve set up in the tavern instead so if cards and dice are what you fancy, then that’s how I make my living these days.” Inquisition soldiers have open honest faces, they always fall for a pretty girl.

Or a fox pawing at their legs, tipping his face up and into any form of affection, tail wagging and eyes closing in utter rapture.

“Lux? Since I could hold him in one hand, it must be...six, seven years ago? My father thought he’d teach me some responsibility, instead he gifted me the greatest partner in crime.”