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

[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."

[aforethought]

Entertainment's what you make of it; be it half-naked men in the dead of winter, or something more like to get the blood running.

"Nah, I can write it just fine." As long as he doesn’t mind getting it spell-checked later. "Just we got so many in right now, best to know a bit on their histories. Beats us guessing, with the ones that spook easy.”

Warhorses don’t tend to, but that causes problems of its own. If a beast intends to take chunks out of the nearest threat, Melys wants a good eye on it.

“Beautiful creature. You had him since a colt?"

[tactical_alert]

"Since he was around three years of age. And that must have been seven years ago now. Helped train him, named him. I suppose he's fully mine now, rather than property of the Seekers of Truth." Has been since the Seekers more or less turned their backs. "Been around enough flying magic that I doubt you'll find much to spook him other than suddenly appearing rifts in the sky, but don't those spook us all."

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "His name is Charles."

[aforethought]

“Not Zephyr, or Flameheart, or nothing like that?”

She’s teasing, but it’s not ill-meant. Figure the gentler the name, the better the sign. Melys scribbles down the notes, lips pursing faintly at the effort.

"We've got some weirder stuff in the stables. Harts, mostly," She's not about to mention the dead one. Best if that thing just faded from all memory. "Big deer, and what-have-you, but mostly they all seem to get along."

She taps the end of the charcoal on her chin, thoughtfully. It leaves a little black smudge.

"This ain't official, but I gotta say — some of the hands're pretty young." If there's something faintly accusatory to her glance, it's probably only halfway-intentional. "And most of them only seen farm beasts before now. Master Dennet can handle him if it's any trouble, and you're welcome down there, 'course, any time."

Melys hesitates a moment, before adding:

"But I'd prefer it if anything comes up, you come to me or him." A breath in. "I know I don't got the authority to ask that, and ain't trying to impeach your character or ours; he'll get some damn fine care. Just, we had some trouble late, and I don't upset so easy as a kid."

[tactical_alert]

"I doubt he'll give you much trouble so long as none of them give him trouble," he says with a small smile at her teasing. A very normal name, yes, but it was his choice, and it seemed fitting that an equine companion bear the name of a friend. He'd find it funny, Malcolm is sure.

But back to business: "I do plan on dropping in to take some care, though you and Master Dennet will understand if I become scarce when I'm needed elsewhere." That is, after all, why a stablemaster and their hands exist. "Your hands will learn quickly how to thicken their skin--and their bones--working around these animals, or they'll stop being hands soon enough." It isn't meant unkindly; that's simply the way it works. If they can't mind themselves and their animals and can't take a bit of a physical and mental beating, then they aren't cut out to be there. "But I'll make certain to bring any issues to the attention of those more capable of handling the situation swiftly, thank you."

[aforethought]

"With all respect, Seeker, ain't their soft and fuzzy feelings I'm so worried on." She gestures, loose. "Teenagers are dumber than posts, before you get their emotions running hot. Gets them all riled, and inclined to do or say the kinda things they shouldn't."

Not that she'd know anything about that.

"Under the usual circumstances, I'd agree with you on their career prospects after goin' and giving in to that — but a couple of these kids came out of Haven. There ain't much for them to go back to if they botch this one up. Figure it's best for all of us, including Charlie, if that don't get no extra cause to happen."

Melys wipes the chalky powder from her hand, before sticking it out to shake.

"So thank you. Means a deal, and it's an honour to meet you, at any rate."

She's never heard much on Seekers, except they're about the next step up from a Templar, somehow. That suits her fine enough, though. Anyone keeping their head in this shit is worth staying on the good side of.

[tactical_alert]

"Teenagers do have certain issues with keeping their emotional outbursts in check and rightly respecting authority without strict supervision," he agrees with a light chuckle. They've all been there, of course. Even him, once upon a time, but to...a much lesser degree, he suspects. "So, be lenient, but not such that they get used to slacking. I'll try not to deliberately poke any of them with proverbial sticks."

Even if it might be a little fun. He shakes her hand firmly, though his brows raise in slight amusement. "I think you found it more of an honour to catch me lacking some clothes more than meeting me, if I'm not mistaken."

[aforethought]

"Literal sticks, now that's fine."

Her tone lifts, back into conversational joviality. It's a weight off her back to get an agreement out of this — Melys will fight anyone who calls her a bleeding-heart, she just don't care for folks punching down without cause. At least not when she has to handle the fallout.

"But what can I say? Must be all that duty and heroics, sets a lady to swooning." She fakes fanning herself. "And to frostbite."

[tactical_alert]

"Just don't set to swooning around the horses. Whatever you do in your free time, however..." If she wants to watch, well, he won't send her away. An audience might make him work even harder.