open + closed | mistakes have been made

[thereneverwas]

WHO: Barrow + you
WHAT: catch-all
WHEN: the general Firstfall/Haring vicinity
WHERE: around the Gallows
NOTES: lots of Templar-relevant navelgazing. starters in comments, holler if you'd like one

Comments

for Redvers (and eventually Byerly)

[thereneverwas]

One of Barrow's typical morning activities is maintaining the training yard and its accoutrements, a task which has become somewhat more involved since the attack on the Gallows, as there's still quite a bit of mending and cleaning to be done before it's back to normal.

However, for the last few days, his work has been punctuated by long periods of stillness, the mallet or the rag hanging idly from his hand and the cigarette burning down in his mouth as he stares off at nothing.

Morning is the time to be alone with his thoughts, but it would seem there are too many of them, of late.

[atonally]

The premature cancellation of his solitude is heralded by scrape of rock against rock, a stray pebble from the debris scraped between boot and stone walkway. Redvers himself follows shortly behind the sound, longbow in hand. (He's a swordsman. But sometimes it's better not to get that close.)

"Morning," he says to Barrow, and nothing else just yet. He picks a target, sets down his quiver—the kind that's meant for that. For planting on the earth and holding ground.

It's only then that he pays any attention to what Barrow is actually doing here. Or not doing here, as it may be.

"Need help?"

[thereneverwas]

It takes a moment for Barrow to realize the question is for him, and he starts to alertness as he looks for its source. Redvers-- not the person he most wants to see right now, to be certain.

"I'm all right," he grunts back, taking a quick glance over at the intended activity-- got to make sure it's functional-- before he returns to what he was doing.

"Just got new straw," he adds, with a nod toward the target, "shouldn't fall apart anymore."

[atonally]

"For a while," Redvers says, agreeing and not.

Everything begins to fall apart eventually. Everything's reliant on someone coming along to patch the tears and bolster the defenses before it crumbles entirely. There's a useful metaphor here, but he's not a speechmaker.

He draws the bowstring without an arrow, back and forth, to warm his arms up.

"What are you going to do about the Order?"

[thereneverwas]

The irritated glance Barrow sends Redvers might constitute a microexpression, just enough that he has the satisfaction of having made the face without broadcasting his displeasure too clearly.

"I dunno," he sighs, in a sing-song voice, "crawl back on my belly and beg forgiveness, maybe. Set myself right in the eyes of the Maker and his righteous army."

for Strange

[thereneverwas]

It's hardly the most surprising thing that could happen after all that's been said, but Barrow still feels odd and awkward and too big for his skin as he pauses in the infirmary door and looks around for the head healer. Spotting him, he knocks lightly on the frame.

"Hey, ah," he begins, but falters: "...if you're busy I'll bother you later."

I AM CATCHING EM ALL

[portalling]

Nowadays there’s a faint terror which grips him whenever he sees Obeisance Barrow — because in what new, unusual way is Stephen going to shove his foot in his own mouth this time — but at least today the doctor’s got the shield of his professional responsibilities. He glances up from his desk, where he’s currently annotating one of Thedas’ fledgling medical textbooks.

“No patients at the moment,” he says mildly, for the beds are empty and he has no excuse to shoo Barrow away or let the man scurry away himself, “so I’m pretty free, actually. What do you need?”

like no one ever was

[thereneverwas]

Barrow was afraid of this: in the absence of any distractions, he'll have to actually have the conversation and set things in motion.
He sighs, peeling himself from the doorway as he shuffles into the infirmary.

"Been, er, talking to Orlov," he mutters, "about... the Knight-Vigilant, and all that rot. I'm... I think, I,"

why is this so hard? Because it's Strange, or, perhaps because it's an open declaration of his failure, his cowardice, his treachery against Andraste's own army?

"...I've got to go off the lyrium." He clears his throat, scratches the stubble on his jaw, "he said I'd be best off doing it here."

[portalling]

Oh, good — 

Strange can’t hold back the way he seems to visibly brighten, straightening in his seat, the full hyperfocus of his attention landing on Barrow. He’d always hoped that Orlov’s success might nudge the others into eventually following suit, although he’d been so very polite in not nagging any of them about it apart from Mobius. Two down, three more to go.

“Fantastic news, Barrow,” he says, and it’s only that professional mask which helps settle him into neutrality and prevents him from looking genuinely delighted. “Not that the Knight-Vigilant’s being a shit, but that you’re making this choice. Having the flexibility again will be a good thing. You can,” he waves a hand, “I don’t know, go on holiday in Rivain without having to worry about supply chain issues or running out of lyrium partway through. You’ll have your life back, for yourself.”

Free of those ties. The chains, sundered.

[thereneverwas]

The little sigh through Barrow's nose communicates several things: one, that he was clearly wrong to be anxious, and two, that he clearly wasn't anxious enough, because he did not anticipate such delight over this proclamation. Fantastic news.

"...right," he says, caught flatfooted, glancing over his shoulder like he's not entirely certain he should still be here, "glad you..." Thought about this on a completely different level than I did within the first two seconds of hearing it, "...agree."

[extortionate]

"Figure I'm technically a deserter," Hi Barrow, how's the bath. Room enough in it for two, though there'd be more if they weren't both roughly the size and shape of a rifted refrigerator — "Orlais had that Lions shite. Joined up between jobs, don't remember what side."

He yawns, scrubs at a pit. It's not his own soap.

I hope nobody's between them

[thereneverwas]

"Thank you," Barrow says flatly, unbudging from where he's been lounging and ruminating for the last twenty minutes or so. When Lazar's showing you solidarity, you know you've fucked up somewhere--

--but that's unkind, and Barrow knows it. He sighs, rubs at his temple, drops his hand heavily back into the water.

"What for? It pay well?" The question is sincere.

drowning an npc

[extortionate]

"Terrible. But had the signing bonus on him, so," A clubbing motion. "Tore up the pages after. Not just ours,"

Says that bit like it renders the whole thing heroic.

"So anyway, it's not written down."

bubbles gently surfacing, but dwindling

[thereneverwas]

Barrow opens his mouth, closes it again. Well,

"that's."

He rubs his jaw. "...that's good." thanks lazar

[extortionate]

"Should've gone and done the other side, too." He ducks his head, comes up shaking wet hair. "Only like I said, couldn't keep 'em straight."

"You gonna do a runner?"

for Clarisse

[thereneverwas]

"Pull it back far as it goes," Barrow grunts, nodding to Clarisse over the side of the ballista, positioning his wrench on the bolt securing the drawstring.

He's been a bit curt this morning, his mind clearly elsewhere as he goes about his usual tasks, and this is no exception: Clarisse being kind enough to help him out doesn't seem to have made a difference in his demeanor.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse often comes across as someone who's not super in touch with feelings, her own or other people's. And true as that is a lot of the time, she can read a room like no other. Shifts of energy are obvious to her. What they mean, well, that's another thing entirely.

Anyway, she can tell something is up with Barrow. He's distracted, seems almost pissed off about something. Not her, she hopes. She's letting it go for now, following his orders and pulling back the drawstring as far as she can.

"Good?"

[thereneverwas]

"Mm," he intones in the affirmative, and begins to tighten the wire. Working in silence, brow furrowed, he turns the wrench until the wire is taut-- too taut, as it turns out, which they learn when the wood groans and a crack of metal cuts the air. Barrow hisses a startled "FUCK," as the wire snaps, whipping back with enough force to cut flesh and, at the very least, knock both of them off their feet with the release of tension.

[laruetheday]

"Shit!"

Clarisse isn't sure whether she throws herself down or gets knocked, but either way she hits the dirt hard enough to hurt and stays that way while she processes what just happened. Fuck, that could have killed one of them.

"Are you okay?"

[thereneverwas]

She's greeted by Barrow leaning over her with a frantic expression, which calms the moment she speaks-- he's got a cut across his cheek, but miraculously seems to have evaded the worst of it.

"Are you-- fuck, I'm so sorry," he rambles, glancing Clarisse over, looking for blood or any other sign of injury, "my fault, that was my fault."

for Mobius

[thereneverwas]

As he leans on the bar at the Hanged Man, waiting for some subpar whiskey, Barrow has time to reflect on how many fucking execution themed pubs in Kirkwall-- and sure, maybe the man is hanging from his foot, but still. Is that a thing? Will he be hung by his foot instead of his neck when the Chantry or rebel mages catch up with him?

He's almost too deep in thought to notice Mobius' arrival.

[favoriteanalyst]

"Could've picked literally anywhere else in all of Kirkwall," Mobius says, thunking down a bottle of some good stuff they can spike their piss ale and shite whiskey with (and the bartender can shove it if he's got an issue with it) (after getting tipped well, he's not insane). "But your brain's hung up on the concept, huh?"

[thereneverwas]

Barrow groans, and though he flashes Mobius a sour glance, it's quickly followed by a self-effacing smile.

"Soon as there's a pub called The Lazy Fishing Trip I'll go there instead," he grumbles. Some of his levity has returned-- it's good to see Mobius, be in a friend's presence-- but the stormcloud, such as it is, doesn't budge.

[favoriteanalyst]

"And you'll be able to, because you aren't going to get strung up." There. Get that out of the way ASAP.

for Marcus

[thereneverwas]

A light knock on the doorframe of the Forces office announces Barrow's presence, standing at the threshold with an air of uncertainty.

"Got a moment, Commander?" he asks, with a deferent duck of his head, "--I can come back later." Someone's on his best behavior.