faderift | it takes strength to live this way

Entry tags:

it takes strength to live this way

WHO: Iron Bull and OPEN
WHAT: General summary of events during the end of the month. Drinking, fighting, more drinking, maybe a little flirting.
WHEN: Mid-to-late Wintermarch
WHERE: All over the damn place. Mostly the tavern and sparring ring, though.
NOTES: n/a

He was starting to feel a little restless. By now, the boss would have taken them all out on some exploit or another, and even if he was glad to be at Skyhold again? Sitting idle could grate on the nerves a bit.

The best way to counter that seemed to be throwing down in the training ring just outside the tavern, taking on all comers as well as training those that seemed of a mind to ask. Cullen had most of his people following their own regime, but if they wanted a swing at something else? He wouldn’t refuse them. Not everyone fought like a templar.

The rest of the time, Bull made himself easy to find. Easy to avoid, too, if that was the preference of some. And he knew it was, from the glimpsed he’d gotten of the Vashoth inside the keep. But it was no hardship holding court inside the comfort of the tavern, indulging heavily in drinks and working his way down the menu of available meals and snacks.

It was business as usual, for the most part. Even if he did feel a little more restless than usual. Had to find a way to get out, hit something that really had it coming.

Or find someone to pass the evening with. That might help.

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Bull's attention tugged away from the drink in his hand to the young mage who stood in front of him, looking a good deal more serious than anyone hanging around in a tavern really ought. "That so?"

Usually people danced around the issue, bought drinks or struck up conversation first, but there was something to be said for the more forthcoming approach. At least the kid was honest. After a pause to consider Bull lifted his chin and nodded toward a seat across from him.

Gave him the opportunity to read him for a moment before continuing.

"You're one of the healers, aren't you?"

Simon could have tried a slower approach. Made small talk or tried to butter him up first. But the mage wasn't a very skilled conversationalist to begin with and was flat out terrible at flattery. Being direct was much easier, but of course that didn't mean he was going to be rude about it. As it appeared the direct approach was going to work Simon relaxed half an inch, letting out a small breath and taking the invitation to sit down.

Standing while the Bull was still seated didn't give Simon a very clear picture of just how big the qunari really was. Now at closer to eye level (actually somewhat below it) he couldn't help from hesitate as he took in the bulk of him. Korrin and Hudson had been one thing, but Bull was...

Simon wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to it.

"Thank you," he remembered how to speak, "yes...my name is Simon."

They've both been with the Inquisition long enough it isn't a surprise that Bull would have seen him around the healers' tents, even though Simon's never tended to him or one of his Chargers before. Even knowing that he's a mage when he rarely dresses the part anymore wouldn't be much of a surprise...though Simon still has plenty for the Iron Bull to pick up on that aren't so obvious. The young man is stiff and vaguely uncomfortable on a near constant basis. He's out of place in Skyhold. The sort of mage who would be much more comfortable back in his Circle...but here he is all the same.

And here he is with questions for the Qunari, which takes a lot of spine or a great deal of need. Which prompts Bull to be very, very curious as to what could have brought Simon his way.

He's not looking to slake his curiosity. He's already had a couple of people come to him in that regard. His posture's all wrong. He's too wary, too tightly-wound. There's something else on his mind, something he'd keep to himself if he had the choice.

"Simon." Bull nods once, as though satisfied. "Alright, Simon. What can I do for you?"

Simon wove his fingers together on his lap as he worked on settling. Relaxing was too much to ask for this soon, but he could at least try to look like he wanted to be there. He needed to be, that was enough of an incentive to stay, even if it didn't make any of it that much easier.

"Every qunari I've met in the Inquistion...isn't actually 'qunari'," Simon began to explain, "They've left the qun, or were born outside of it, and I was hoping to speak to someone who would know first hand how the qunari live."

The mage thinned his lips and resisted the urge to look around. Now his voice softened slightly, though there was no threat of being overheard. The tavern was crowded and noisy with other conversations, and someone would have to be actively trying to eavesdrop to pick up anything specific. Acting like he was up to something he shouldn't be would only draw that unwanted attention.

"Specifically, how the mages live," he finished.

"Not something most southern mages want to hear about. Unless they want to feel better about the Circles."

Which lead him to wonder what brought the subject up in the first place. It was obviously dire. The young man's solemn expression and resolve said enough on that count. "Qunari mages develop their magic about the same time as anyone else. They're given over to a handler, who keeps watch on them at all times. They're kept separate and trained. That part's not so different."

"Most of what I've heard so far hasn't been very...pleasant, it's true," Simon answered with a shifting grimace. Men and women locked in chains, kept blind and mute and helpless with only one 'handler' and the demons to keep them company. But Simon was already in favor of the Circles, he didn't need horror stories to scare him straight. He just wanted to know why and, perhaps more importantly, how it was done up north.

"You said they're trained," he went on, brow furrowing. That seemed like new information. "By whom? Surely not each other if they're...based on how I've heard they're kept."

"Yeah...from what I understand, they're mostly taught to channel that power in a more raw form. No focus on technique or any fancy tricks. Just hit as hard as you can, and in the right direction. If they slip up? They've got collars that inhibit magic. Hit those, and they shut right down. No need for templars, then."

Any mage showing signs of corruption was usually put down, without question. It wasn't an easy life, and he felt sorry for them. But the Qunari community honored them for the lives they led, the sacrifices they made for the safety of the greater whole.

For all the good that did them, personally.

As much as Simon learned in the Tevinter Imperium about the careful art of lying to people, he still wasn't very good at it. Especially when put into a situation without any time to prepare. When the Iron Bull mentions the collars, the mage's eyes light up in a very telling way. Everything else, the lost potential of having a host of mages who don't even bother to learn how to heal, is shoved aside in his mind to focus on that one little detail.

"The collars, how do they work?" he asked, and then asked some more. "Do they hurt? What are they made of?"

Simon had forgotten he was supposed to be subtle about this.

"Shit, I look like I make them?" Bull snorted faintly, nostrils flaring. "Unless your job is making them, you don't need to know how they get put together. All you need to know is that they work. Got a control the handler keeps hold of."

An eyebrow raises, the corner of his mouth curling upwards. "Got a lot of interest in that sort of thing? I can think of more fun ways of getting yourself tied up if that's what you're into."

Lyrium had to be involved. It was required to make a mage tranquil, and even if these collars weren't 'on' all the time it would make sense if they used the material. But if that was so, where did the Qunari get their lyrium? He didn't think they had trade agreements with anyone, let alone dwarves. Unfortunately Bull didn't know, leaving Simon to his guessing in the dark. If only he could have one to study...

"Sorry?" Simon blinked, sitting slightly back when the Iron Bull drew his attention again. At first he was honestly just confused. This wasn't for him, being helpless like that sounded...well it wasn't something he wanted to be around just anyone. His face burned briefly, Simon's gaze darting away as he recognized what the qunari was getting at. He'd heard of that sort of thing even if he'd never done it...but he wasn't with the Inquisition to have fun...

That was a safer conclusion than taking the time to decide whether or not he had a lot of interest in that sort of thing.

"That wasn't why I asked," he said, lips thinning out.

Oh, he could have told Simon that he'd be interested in that sort of thing, whether he knew that about himself yet or not. But now wasn't really the moment for that.

"It's more the sort of thing I'd expect a templar to be asking about." Bull's brow quirked higher. "If you're wanting to get your hands on one, it's not going to be easy. The Qunari don't waste anything. They wouldn't have a spare just lying around for you to get your hands on, especially not this far south."

Regardless of why, though Bull was willing to make a guess. Simon wanted to lock down someone's powers, but not give them away. Someone important. Lover? Family member? Mage. Maybe someone who couldn't control their powers...a grim prospect. It'd definitely explain that dire look of his.

But it was all just speculation, for the moment. Keeping an eye from a distance wouldn't hurt, though.

Simon did his best to settle back down, though the color in his cheeks was slow to fade. The start of a plan was forming in his mind and already it wasn't looking to be savory. Especially if what Bull said about the Qunari was true, and the mage had no reason to think he'd lie. The only way he could get a collar legitimately was to convert, which was out of the question. The other option left to him was theft.

"I was only curious," he lied quickly. "With what's happened recently...the abomination... The mage council has discussed training, reworking harrowings--"

Weren't the harrowings supposed to be a secret? Not that it really mattered without a proper Circle...

"...I'm not on the council, but I thought there might be an option besides Tranquility for those of us who either can't go through a harrowing or don't want to risk it."

"Then it's not a bad one. Provided they've got someone keeping an eye on them at all times. Was a time that would have been your templars, but a lot of the mages here have gotten real squirrely about how much sway they've got."

Not saying Simon, necessarily, but it's a fact. He's seen it. The templars at large are still respected as a peace-keeping force, as a necessary measure for the safety of the mages as well as those around them. But politics are gumming up the works. As usual.

But he'll keep his opinion about the council to himself. For the most part.

"It's true," Simon agreed mildly. "It feels like a very small minority that actually wants things to go back to the way they were, with the templars watching over us...maybe if it was a fellow mage doing the watching instead of a templar..."

Which Simon would do for River if the collar required it...though the idea was beginning to strike him as the worst case scenario. Of course, River could always be the one in control. The collar could be something for her to have whenever the voices became too much, and she'd know better than him when things were starting to get bad. A nightlight to keep the demons away whenever she needed it...

The fantasy strengthened Simon's resolve just enough, his thoughtful gaze hardening as he focused back on Bull.

"It's all moot unless I can find a collar to study," he said.

Edited (tense shifting) 2016-02-25 04:04 (UTC)

"And that's not likely to happen. Even if you did manage to find one, you'd get people around here in an uproar real quick."

Not that he agrees with that fact. Necessary precautions should be taken, especially after the incidents that have already taken place. Simon's urgency says they might have another on their hands. The question is what.

"...If this is something you're really wanting to look into, I might know some people," he adds after a moment, leaning back into his seat again and giving the young mage a considering look. "Not promising anything. You know how it would look if I brought one of those things in here, with the way things are."

"It certainly wouldn't look good," Simon agreed. He wasn't all that politically savvy, but he wasn't stupid. Just bringing a collar in on his own, if that were possible, would also cause a stir. He might be able to keep it secret...maybe. Probably not. No...it was best to bring his idea forward to the Inquisition leaders, make it clear he didn't have any ill intent. And maybe they'd even approve and help him find one.

"I don't want to get anyone in trouble for my curiosity," he added, still trying to downplay his interest in the collar as mostly academic. The mage tried to make himself relax, though wasn't having much success. All he could manage was a half smile up at the qunari. "But if nothing else turns up, I 'might' ask about these people you 'might' know."

Bull smirked at that, gesturing for one of the bar maids to bring over another drink. And then another, placed squarely in front of the inquisitive mage.

"I might tell you," Bull returned. "But I want to know who I'm telling, if it's all the same to you. That means drinks."

And having Simon stick around long enough for him to get a reading on him, one way or another. This desire for a collar didn't arrive out of nowhere.

For a moment Simon wanted to protest. He wasn't asking yet, surely this could wait. Preferably until Simon was better prepared to answer potentially uncomfortable questions from a man twice his size. Not that the mage let a thing like size intimidate him, he'd dealt with templars who liked to be brutes first and foremost...

But if he were to be honest with himself, none of them had a thing on the qunari sitting before him now, at least from a purely physical standpoint.

Instead Simon was quiet for a moment, looking at the drink already in front of him. The last man to buy him a drink in the tavern had been Zevran...that had nearly been a disaster. Surely it wouldn't be that awkward again... Slowly he reached for the mug and pulled it closer, looking up from the dark contents at the Iron Bull. The qunari's offer to help seemed genuine. It would have been impressively stupid even for Simon to start offending him now by trying to keep too many secrets.

"That seems fair," he said, though he still sounded reluctant. "What more would you like to know?"

"Uh uh. See that? That's a good way to lead with an interrogation. Not what I'm after here."

He gestured at Simon vaguely before taking a swig from his tankard. "What's your poison? You don't look like you're much for the ales they serve here."

Simon was free to answer or not, of course, but it's friendly conversation. Bull wasn't asking for incriminating details or horror stories. Too obvious a starting point, anyway.

Clearly Simon didn't see as he wasn't expecting the Iron Bull to be friendly. Still, the fact that he was helped the mage to relax just a fraction, in spite of being uncertain what his preferences in drink had to do with possibly helping him sneak a saarebas collar into Skyhold. This was why he wasn't a spy.

"It's not--the ale isn't bad," Simon protested politely even as he confirmed that it wasn't really to his tastes. Still, he drank all the same and only wrinkled his brow a little bit at the bitter aftertaste in his throat. "If given the choice I'd have wine, but it's expensive to get it up here."

Coin was a luxury Simon hadn't enjoyed since childhood, but Cumberland's Circle was respectable enough to come close. A glass of wine, even cheap wine, with meals was a cultural norm he hadn't been able to experience in a very long time.

Bull snorts at that. "Yeah. Every luxury item that passes up this way takes forever, besides. They've got good shit in the cellars, but the Lady Ambassador only brings it out when we've got nobles to get drunk."

Nobility before getting carted off to the circle? Possibly. Likely actually, given his rigid demeanor. Bull takes a swig before gesturing vaguely.

"But you've seen what the roads are like coming up here. Even with the rebellion over with, there's plenty of bandits who wouldn't mind picking off a stray caravan or two on the road."

"Exactly," Simon agreed with a nod, though he waited a bit before taking another drink.

Bull was close. The Tams weren't a noble house, but they certainly had their aspirations and a prosperous enough business to come closer to the lifestyle than most. His parents tended to worry even more about propriety than any family who actually held a title.

"They aren't all that picky," Simon said with a grimace, speaking from experience. He'd forsaken his robes and staff on the roads to avoid templar attention...which meant that bandits tended to think he was easy pickings on the road. Quite a few were given an unpleasant surprise when it turned out the refugee traveling with his traumatized sister could freeze the air around them with a gesture before quickly moving on and leaving them to thaw. "But, yes, I understand why it's expensive to get anything of value into Skyhold...so I try not to disparage the ale."

"It's not completely shit. Keeps the boys happy after a long day fighting." He nods towards the rest of the tavern, where the Chargers are scattered. The ones that aren't out running missions, of course. The ones that are visible. Skinner might still be close at hand, somewhere.

More information to process. Doesn't like conflict. Hiding something. Keeping his head low but desperate enough to ask--

"You get the occasional stores of something else while you're out patrolling, though. I hate giving the Vints credit for anything, but they don't skimp on wine. Venatori are no exception."

Simon paused with the mug at his lips, looking over the rim at Bull and trying to keep the worry off his face. There was nothing suspicious about a Qunari bringing up Tevinter, he told himself. The two nations had been in various degrees of war for centuries. It made sense that he'd be familiar. There wasn't some ulterior motive to catch Simon out in...the mage wasn't even sure what could be proven, and that was when he realized he was being ridiculous and dropped his gaze for another drink.

"They won't be missing it at that point," Simon agreed idly, putting the mug back down. It wasn't as if he was keeping his time spent in Tevinter a complete secret. He just didn't talk about it, ever, if it could be helped. Because that risked questions that Simon couldn't answer, not comfortably and not without lying. "Maybe a few bottles will last long enough to be brought back to Skyhold some day."

He wouldn't mind drinking Tevinter wine again. The magisters who had helped him find and rescue River had been very generous hosts for the duration of his stay.

If Simon displays any nervousness, any stiffness at the mention of Tevinter, Bull pretends not to notice. He just chuckles openly and takes another swig.

"Heh. That depends on who gets sent out. Everything's supposed to get reported back. manifests and whatnot, but you get a couple of soldiers out there who haven't seen a bed or a warm fire in a while, and little things tend to go missing. Cost of boosting morale out there."

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it takes strength to live this way

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