faderift | it's been a long road

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it's been a long road

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?

Threaded | Flat

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

Edited 2016-01-25 04:40 (UTC)

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.

Threaded | Flat

Cassandra

training grounds!

Courtyard

courtyard

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

Courtyard