it's been a long road

[tactical_alert]

WHO: Seeker Malcolm (not Captain Malcolm, mind), PEOPLE IN SKYHOLD, Cassandra
WHAT: Yet another arrival, gee, they just keep coming don't they
WHEN: *waggles hand* Late Wintermarch-y
WHERE: Here. There. Look, over there!
NOTES: Nothing yet

Arrival
He rides in with a small caravan of people. His armour bears a symbol that, while probably familiar to everyone here by now, is not seen on many people these days in these parts. His horse's stride is calm and careful, trying to stay out of the way and taking his time looking around. Less like a bemused tourist and more like someone with an eye for finding weaknesses, exits, entrances. He'll have to do a thorough walkaround for integrity, but the area at least is very defensible and secure.

Malcolm gets direction to the stables and sets up his horse there, giving him a nice brushing off of the snow. The next place he heads is to whatever kennel this area might have, if any at all. His dog, a long-legged, apricot-coloured, no-frills poodle, is far from the hyperintelligent mabari he was accustomed to in his youth, but his faithful canine companion needs a place to stay as well. Though if he has to keep her with him, he has few qualms about that.

The Seeker seems very...well, Cassandra-esque. He is stern and steady and goes about his initial business quickly but with care. He might not stop to chat--it is, in fact, not generally in his nature to do so generally--but he might ask for locations.

Battlements
Seeker Malcolm makes an effort within the first few days to stride around all of Skyhold with a keen eye. The location is impeccable, with only one way to really fight through, but it could also make it easy for them to get pinned down. And more than that, he must check for himself the stability of the area, the integrity of the walls, and to be honest, it needs work. It all needs work, even the roads around the mountain pass. He's seen holes in walls and roofs! In the middle of Wintermarch in the mountains!

Up here, despite some foot traffic, it's also quieter than down in the bustle, especially after he's ducked about inside for many of the same reasons. It helps him collect his thoughts, especially now that he's no longer on the road as he has been. But he's taking notes as he goes.

Training Grounds
Also much like Cassandra, he can be found keeping his fighting skills sharp. He doesn't whack a dummy with a greatsword, but instead shows off agility, dodging, quick but precise strikes with a short sword. It is no less intense. His arrows, too, fly true. If it's even possible to sneak up on him, one would be unwise to do so. He's also up for sparring or can be found working out. Shirtless. Sweaty.

Courtyard
There is also a dog. Was the dog mentioned? There's a dog that needs training and attention and training-disguised-as-play as much as any other dog, mabari included. While Malcolm could be doing any number of things in the area, whether gathering a feel of the troops and those that support the Inquisition, mentally rearranging the area for a more efficient layout, or finding a pleasant and out of the way area to care for his weaponry, his dog likes to be nearby. He throws sticks sometimes. It's very important work, you see. At times, he plays scent games, hiding an object and allowing her to find it, although she is much less a scent-based dog. She's also efficient. Patient. Calm.

Really. Honestly. She does not at all turn into an excited lovebug in the presence of someone willing to shower her with positive attention. Absolutely not.

Wildcard
Catch him in the great hall? Found him nabbing something from the kitchen? Listening to gossip in the tavern? In the rookery reading Bad News? Convenient location to pick a bone with him? Specifically want A Thing?

Comments

Cassandra

[tactical_alert]

He's directed in the general direction of the Right Hand of the Divine. There's an internal wave of relief once he finds her, in all of her stern and sharp features. "Lady Seeker." Malcolm gives a bow that is more than merely polite. She might not officially have the title, but officially, the rest of the Seekers are no longer under the Chantry's purview. It might as well be hers.

When he straightens: "I apologize for not arriving sooner. I was on my way as soon as I heard about the Herald, yet I fear it's not soon enough." So much to do, and the chaos grows more every day. Have faith. Must have faith. "Have we any more to our number than the two of us?" Seekers, of course, is what he means. The Inquisition has plenty of people and refugees alike.

[stabsbooks]

She rejects the honorific all the same, demurring immediately. "Please. That title is not mine. But...it is good to see you, Malcolm." They had worked together, at one point, but it has been some time, and she grants him a rare smile.

The smile vanishes as soon as he mentions the Herald. Cassandra shakes her head, unconsciously starting to pace. "I am afraid not - not here. We are...so few, now. It has been difficult to discover anyone else who has...well." She sighs. "It is good that you are here, and that you arrived safely."

[tactical_alert]

Spoilers: he might still call her that anyway unless she makes a massive fuss about it. He's the fussy type, after all. While she paces, he is stillness, chin in hand and only the slightest turn of his head to follow her path. "It makes our job that much more difficult, then. I had hoped...but I imagine I would have passed a few more on the road had that been the case."

Probably still a few out there; it can't be just them in all of Thedas. But how many are still out looking for the missing Warden, the possibly dead Champion, and how many are still doing jobs and finishing chasing down dangerous individuals, and how many are trapped among those that left, unable to escape?

"Any of our Templar 'friends' show signs of trouble?" He'd ask about mages, but, well, Templars do tend to take care of those pretty thoroughly. And with extreme prejudice.

[stabsbooks]

The same thoughts had occurred to Cassandra, more than once; they're how she had kept herself from worrying overmuch about the fate of the other Seekers. There is work to be done, but not all of it can be done in Skyhold. They are needed everywhere.

She stops pacing, finally, turning to face Malcolm and hesitating. He is new here, he does not know the situation, but how best to explain it to him? "The...templars. Yes," she says carefully. "That is - no. That is -" She sighs. Words had never been her strong suit, and this situation is...delicate. "You have just arrived here, have you not?" she asks instead, changing the subject a bit too abruptly.

[tactical_alert]

Her hesitancy rings a distant bell of alarm in his head, though it doesn't cross his features save for a worried squint. She has a reputation, and he the benefit of having worked with her before, if not overly much. Hesitating is...worrying.

Still, he allows her the diversion if it helps her build up to the situation, inclining his head. "The moment I got my things in order, I came to find you, yes."

training grounds!

[aforethought]

Sneaking up on folks with swords is a hobby best reserved for situations of genuine need. As it stands, Melys isn't fixing to come down with a sudden case of acute iron poisoning inside the Inquisition's own fortress walls.

So she wolf-whistles.

What? If that don't get the attention of a shirtless man, he's either deaf, or too humble by half. Pious, that's some of the little word she's heard on Seekers, but Maker knows you gotta have some kind of confidence to go around declaring yourself Blessed.

But, just to be on the safe side, she does it twice. And affects a swooning pose.

[tactical_alert]

He hears it the first time but ignores it as he goes through a practised series of swings and imagined dodges. Imagines the noise can't be for him. But it happens again, and this time he has to look only to see a...swooning woman?

For a few long moments, Malcolm is perplexed. She doesn't seem in need of help. Was she trying to get his attention? The sword is sheathed for the moment as he takes a few steps from the dummy. "Can I assist you, madame?"

[aforethought]

Humble-and-a-half it is.

"Yesser, you can," Madame, how fancy. She straightens in an instant, expression shifting suddenly business-like. Melys brandishes a stack of papers his way. "Seeker Malcolm Reed? You bring a horse in the other day?"

Her fingers splay out, pre-emptively placative.

"He's doing right fine, I've just got a few questions to ask you. I'm one of the hands." She jerks a shoulder in the direction of the stables.

[tactical_alert]

Certainly one way of getting a man's attention to attend to business. There certainly are some characters here in Skyhold. He eyes the stack of papers, amused. "Am I to fill out paperwork to house my horse, madame? I do wish someone had said, but I was in a bit of a hurry."

Courtyard

[aggregiopavali]

Fenris was passing through the courtyard on the way to the training grounds, when the sight of the stranger 'training' a dog caught his attention. Dogs had never been part of his life until Hawke and her slobbering mess of a mabari. Now? He could see the use of them in battles. Though this one seemed more like one that enjoyed play from what he could see, bringing a faint half smile to his face.

"I wasn't aware we had any Seekers other than Lady Cassandra here," he said, walking towards the Seeker, being aware of the dog that may act as a bodyguard.

[tactical_alert]

At the approach, Malcolm gives a single gesture, and the pooch comes fleet-footedly to his side and stands in a way that gives off an impression of 'at attention'. She stares at Fenris for a moment, then up to Malcolm, then to Fenris again, silently assessing and looking for direction, although her tail does slowly wag.

"I'm afraid I'm quite new. It does seem that she's had to play the role by herself, and I hope to ease the burden. Not just for her, of course." This elf has distinctive markings. Familiar in some ways. In relation to the Champion?

[aggregiopavali]

Fenris gave a low chuckle at the dog. Certainly happy to be guard for her master.

So Seekers were heading here as well. So many people, all drawn to the Inquisition. It was a wonder the whole powder keg hadn't exploded yet, though he suspected it was only a matter of time. "Are we going to be inundated then?" He had no problems, but the Templars and Mages might - and it wouldn't take much to set them off.

[tactical_alert]

Not that he doesn't trust her on her own, but in such a new place with so many people, it's better to keep an eye on her before she runs off and decides someone in need of a new pet is someone she'd rather stay with.

"It seems to me that you already are," he says with a short wave of his arm to said so many people. "If we refer to Seekers alone, then I suspect not. I wish it were otherwise." He'll decline to go further into the matter, not that it's exactly a secret what's happened to the Seekers of Truth, much like the Templar Order and the Circle of Magi.

courtyard

[aceso]

The sight of drooling, stinking mabari is becoming familiar at Skyhold, much to Christine's chagrin. Perhaps it's her Orlesian blood, but she just doesn't care for the breed. One would think she doesn't care for dogs in general, and ordinarily that's true, but just the sight of a dog other than a mabari has her willing to give it some attention.

"Oh, look at your curls!" she says to the poodle. "I will I had curls like yours." And she will even tentatively extend her hand to let the dog sniff.

[tactical_alert]

There is a moment, a prolonged moment, when the poodle is--not startled, but certainly at heightened attention, wary. ...But Christine has offered a hand, and spoken in a tone that is non-threatening. And becomes instantly a living exclamation point, happily panting and sniffing at her one moment, hopping about the next, shoving her head under Christine's hand the next.

Malcolm shakes his head, looking somewhat embarrassed by the display. "I apologize. Milady is very good on the job, but off the job, she can be a handful around people she likes. Or people that like her. Or people that are willing to pet her." He waves a hand. "The list goes on."

[aceso]

"Oh!" she exclaims, followed by a laugh. It's been a long time since she's been around any pets like this, and she hardly knows what to do.

"Then what should I do? Will petting her make things better or worse?"

[tactical_alert]

"I think it would be better if you pet her before I pull the reins, as it were."

Which Milady likes the idea of very much please pet pettings please scritches and pets and treats treats treats play pet thank !

Malcolm shakes his head once again at the spectacle of curly fur. "She comes from good stock. My mentor's dog bred a litter, and he was a fine companion on and off duty. Extremely smart and focused, I assure you. Perhaps...distractable, when renegade Templars and maleficar are no longer on the line."

battlements. rolled with what we discussed on cr meme! vaguehands the details.

[ungovernable]

Unlike other recent arrivals that had come quickly to Benevenuta's attention, the Seeker is a surprise when she finds him with his notes upon the wall - a welcome one. His work had been good, and his company not unpleasant; carrying her books down from the empty (chilly; full of holes, trees growing inside where they do not belong) room where she'd escaped to work without the hustle and bustle that sometimes is the library, she slows to a stop a little bit behind him, certain even before he turns that she's recognised the man right.

"Seeker Reed," she greets him, warmly, in that unmistakable accent. She considers expressing her pleased surprise, but honestly, at a glance, his presence makes far more sense than hers. Benevenuta has always had a strong belief in bettering the world that she loves so much, and with her own hands, but her work has always been diligently carried out from the heart of the Nevarran court; her fastened coat and furred muff are rather incongruous on a woman who previously, in the heat of her homeland, did not seem aware that clothing was ought to cover one's sternum. A Seeker come to serve under Cassandra Pentaghast makes a bit more sense than some pampered mage who'd never been further from Nevarra City than Cumberland in all her life before.

But Nevarra is not, right now, where the bulk of the work is to be done, so it is not where she could stay; a belief is nothing if it isn't worth living uncompromised. It was sharing that that she'd respected in him at the time, and why she is pleased to see him now; a good addition to the Inquisition, she thinks.

"I am glad to see you here. Are you recently arrived?"

[tactical_alert]

Malcolm is aware of his surroundings, not through any preternatural sense, but simply through a mix of observation, training, and a dose of what some might call paranoia. With as many people as there are within Skyhold, he does not jump at shadows and would claim to never have done, so the presence behind him he pays little attention to until the voice is heard.

He stops short in surprise, twists slowly at the waist to see her. "Lady Thevenet," he greets with his own subdued warmth, turning the rest of the way and giving a short, polite bow.

"Yes, within the past few days, in fact. I can't say that I expected to see your face gracing these halls. If I may ask: your mother's will, or your own?"

[ungovernable]

The only true surprise in that question is that Malcolm is the first person to ask it - though doubtless Mal Reynolds has his own theories.

(He is far less likely to question her on them, that said.)

Having spent so much of her life her mother's right hand - or left hand, in a rather more apt comparison - Benevenuta scarcely sees that there's a difference worth quibbling over, but her smile is easy and genuine as she says, "It is a decision that my mother supports."

Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

"She understands, as I do, that the work of the Inquisition is essential. Especially now." In the wake of the Herald's death.

[tactical_alert]

The obscuring, middle ground answer. He does not take offense; it's simply the way of politics and of a more...shadowy side to politics few care to speak of. "All the better to have someone also to observe Lady Cassandra," he notes.

"Good to have at least some of Nevarra's support in these times, and especially yours. Have you been well, here? I find I am taking...issue with some of the structural damages that have yet to be adequately addressed."

Courtyard

[demonicbeauty]

There were days when there was no work to be found, when none of the official members of the Inquisition needed Ariadne to fetch or carry things. And those were some of the hardest days, the days where she felt like a loose string, dangling off of a ragged blanket. She could be plucked from the fabric of society and discarded and nothing would matter.

Those were the days when she often found herself in the courtyard.

She'd tend to the plants. She'd practice jumping from tree branch to tree branch. Or she'd sit in a low branch and play her flute.

Today was a musical day, and a number of children had gathered in the courtyard. They were nervous about approaching her, but as she improvised her tune, she could see them dancing, having a rollicking good time.

It gave her some satisfaction, at least. Even if they were still afraid of her.

[tactical_alert]

Dancing, laughing, playing children? There is a bound of light reddish curls headed to play among them.

Malcolm was hesitant to let her run off and show what a silly thing she could be, worried in some manner that it might reflect poorly on him. But they'd been on the road for so long, clearly a dog could use some down time, as could he. It was when she nearly bowled a child over, though by no means meaning to, that he stepped closer, got her attention with a short whistle, and gave a hand signal. Milady sat promptly, still grinning a doggy grin, but stayed still enough to let the children come to her if they should like, tail wagging across the ground.

[demonicbeauty]

It took a lot of doing to distract Ariadne when she was playing, but the dog barreling into the giggling children certainly did it.

She broke off in the middle of the coda, letting loose a peel of hysterical laughter. Her laugh fit her name suitably well. It was light and airy, dancing over the leaves and through the wind.

Quickly, she covered her mouth with both hands. But it was no use, really. She hadn't seen anything so funny in a good, long while.

It was a miracle--and her Alastrian balance--that she didn't fall out of the tree right then and there.

[tactical_alert]

He spies the figure in the tree, no doubt the source of the dancing impromptu troupe of children. "I hope she hasn't irrevocably interrupted. She has not been allowed to act so much like a dog in some time. It's going to her head, I'm afraid."