Tomorrow will be kinder.

[dreadinquisitor]

WHO: Maxwell Trevean and Open
WHAT: Maxwell's got some things he'd like to get done before the Inquisition heads out.
WHEN: Before heading to the Emprise
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: One prompt is smoopy. You have been warned.

Archery Range:

Settled in the garden, Maxwell and his belongings had been right in the path of the abomination. He'd managed to escape unscathed, but the rest of his things weren't as lucky. Many were damaged, or outright destroyed. And replacing them was not as easy it had once been.

Keenly aware that he had no real right to complain, and that the alternatives - on either side - could be much worse, he said nothing about it. Merely put his head down, and got to work. Doing whatever he could to earn a little extra coin, or to trade for replacement clothes and bedding. (And maybe, if he was lucky, enough extra to prepare for the trek to the frigid mountains of the Emprise.)

The archery range was a good place for this. Any bowman worth their salt could fletch and sharpen their own arrows, but it was busy work and Maxwell didn't mind offering his hands and time for a small fee. For a larger price he'd even tend to the bows themselves - restringing, and waxing, maybe a little customization? How about some nice engraving?

He liked the work, and it put a little money in his pocket. A victory all around, in Maxwell's book.

Forge:

When he'd filled his requests for the day, and when Skyhold's blacksmiths had hung up their tools for the night, Maxwell took their place with some work of his own. He hoped that he might be able to finish his gift for Gavin before the Inquisition broke for the Emprise. He didn't know if the elf was going, or even if he was, how much they might see of each other while they were there. (It wasn't a holiday, after all.)

The idea of getting the necklaces finished, and being able to take a piece of each other where ever they went... it made him smile, and pushed him to work that much harder, stoking the fires long into the night.

Skyhold Wild Card:

There was time, occasionally, for tea or ale in the Herald's Rest. And he was still looking for some corner of the castle to call his own, after the last had been burnt to a crisp. Even if neither were particularly productive, he did get to meet all sorts of new faces.

Comments

Archery Field

[the_effect_she_has]

Katniss had made her own arrows for so long, when the man offered to make them for her she almost automatically said no. However, she'd been making a fair bit of coin off her leathers to the nobility around here, and why not? She'd already bought hair oil, of all things. Why not spoil herself with arrows? His might be better. So she put the silver in the man's hand, and held out her quiver.

"What do you use?" She asked, as she watched him piece out arrows. "And ... are there designs on these?" Wow, fancy. Katniss was impressed.

[dreadinquisitor]

"It varies, especially these days," Maxwell replied honestly as he sifted through her quiver, wanting to get a look at the work she did herself. He pulled one out and ran his fingers along the shaft. "I can match these, if this is your preference."

At the other question, he looked down at his quiver with a smile.

"Yes. Detailing's something of a specialty, if you're interested."

He nodded toward them, wordlessly allowing her a closer look.

[the_effect_she_has]

"Well, I don't mind matching them -- but be honest ... are yours better?" She asked, as she reached down to look at his own arrows. With his permission, she'd grab one to test the weight and the flexibility, along with pulling it on her father's ironwood bow.

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell smiled.

"To me, yes, but I'm not so self-absorbed so as not to realize that arrows and bows are personal to each archer. We all have our preferences." Idiosyncrasies that made the world a varied and wondrous place. His own quiver, at the moment, was a collection of several woods and feathers, mostly gathered on the paths too and from Skyhold, but they all shared the same length, the cut of the fletching, and the stroke of the sharpening stone along the edges of arrowhead. And there was fine, delicate detailing. Smooth loops, circling around the shaft. (And there, tied to the quiver itself, was a strange little charm. Half a broken arrow, an inch of splintered wood and the cracked arrowhead.)

"By all means," he gestured to the range, "give them a test."

[the_effect_she_has]

She eyed the charm thoughtfully, before taking out one of his arrows to test. He would find hers made simply - no markings on them, and the wood varying as well. It was the feathers that made the difference - it looked like she had stripped every bird from here to Orlais. A variety of different colors and cuts.

She took her stance, notched the arrow and tested it's weight and flexibility as she drew the bow back its full draw easily. Then she lessened the pull, and aimed at the target.

Breath out.

Fire.

The arrow sang through the air, thudding directly to the center of the target. She nodded her head, impressed. "Bit heavier than I'm used to, but the designs really seem to make it fly."

[dreadinquisitor]

He watched, nodding in approval at her stance and draw. Pleased, when his arrow struck, and stuck, home.

"The weight gives it more force," he explained as he shifted the sharpening stone in his palm and began to stroke one of her arrowheads over it. "The designs give it a smooth flight, and, additionally, help me pick them out on the field. I know which ones are mine without having to think about it."

Which was useful when there could a dozen or more archers all shooting at once.

[the_effect_she_has]

She nodded her head with approval, because they did have more force than her homemade ones. Of course, to be fair, so were his -- but she liked the designs. A thoughtful look came over her face, as she fetched his arrow and returned it back to him.

"If I bring you the feathers, can you make them with my fletching?" A pause, and then a more intent look, "And can you design to order?"

[dreadinquisitor]

He nodded, first - adding fletching was simple work - but then his expression shifted into one more thoughtful. The arrow in his hand stilled as he considered.

"I would think so," he replied with a little tip of his head. "Depending on what you have in mind? Something large or incredibly detailed would be difficult, if not impossible."

And would likely leave her with something more like an art piece, than an actual tool for use.

"What are you thinking?"

[the_effect_she_has]

She nodded her head, smiling a little, before she shifted her leather coat so he could see the pin on her shoulder - the one of the mockingjay in flight, with a circle of gold around it.

"I'd like to have the outline of the mockingjay on my arrows, if you think it wouldn't throw off the weight too much." It was Prim's pin, and that meant with every arrow that Katniss shot, her sister was helping bring the world back to peace. That she was part of everything that Katniss was trying to accomplish.

[dreadinquisitor]

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing as he tried to picture it. "It's a more unusual design..." Not something he would have immediately tried to put on an arrow, at any rate. "But not a terribly difficult one."

He set the arrow and stone aside and reached for his nearby sketchbook.

"May I?" he asked, as he opened it, gesturing with one hand to the pin.

[the_effect_she_has]

Katniss paused, before she carefully un-pinned the mockingjay from her coat and handed it over carefully. It wasn't much more than costumer jewelry, but she acted as if it was given to her by Emprise Celene,

After she handed it over, she folded her arms over her chest, waiting for him to be done.

[dreadinquisitor]

Noting her reluctance, Maxwell pushed himself a little faster than he might otherwise have, sketching a quick copy of the pin onto a blank page of his sketchbook. It was rough, but all he really needed was the shape. He could clean the edges later.

Holding the piece back out to her, he raised the book to blow gently on the ink.

"I'll do one, and then you can look at it and tell me if it works for you. How does that sound?" No sense in crafting a quiverfull if they weren't going to fly straight or if she didn't like the design work.

[the_effect_she_has]

She took the pin back, and immediately put it back on her jacket, making sure it was firmly pinned into place before tilting her head curiously at the picture.

"All right - will what I have paid you so far do for a sample?" She asked, because this was specialty work, which would probably cost a pretty copper more.

Forge!!

[amygdalae]

[Late nights were not a rare thing for Bruce - if anything it was a long familiar thing to him now, and one that Bruce had adapted his schedule around. Many nights now he had spent staying up reading, meditating, or going up to the battlements in order to brew his potions for the next day.

Tonight, however, he had to stay late with a patient due to complications in her illness, but at least it had a happy ending from that; the worst had passed and she was on the road to recovery. He'd have to come back later in the morning to be certain, but everything should be fine.

With his supplies Bruce starts to make his way back to his tent to settle down for the night and see if he could sleep earlier tonight, but as he passed by the forge on the way he heard the sound of hammering coming over and that made Bruce pause. It was far too late for anybody to work in there, so who could it be...?

Curiosity getting the better of him, Bruce headed towards the forge and slowly peered in.] Hello?

[dreadinquisitor]

[He was working on the chains - delicate, thin loops of blue vitrol molded into tiny links that he would knit together himself - but the metal, small and finicky, was resisting his efforts to free it from the mold. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

And a hammer.

Mold upended, he beat - carefully, but deliberately - on the back, trying to work the links loose.

Lost in his work, he didn't realize how late it had gotten, or how much noise he was making. In-between the loud clanks of hammer against metal, he head the voice and looked up, a little surprised.]

Hello? [He wiped his brow against his arm.] Can I help you?

[amygdalae]

[It takes a moment for Bruce to place a name to the voice, but it clicked quickly enough and Bruce let out a faint 'ah' of realization before he stepped into the forge entirely.]

Maxwell, yes? [He returns, then pauses as he realizes its better to identify himself lest the other thinks he's some intruder.] It's me, Bruce.

[dreadinquisitor]

Oh! Bruce, hello. [He was no less surprised, but he smiled. Bruce had been kind to him when he'd truly needed it, that made the man more than good in his standings.

He straightened out of his bend over his project, resting the mold and hammer on the table.] Is there something I can do for you? ...I don't think there's anyone else about right now, but if I can help you find something... someone?

[amygdalae]

Oh, no, I'm alright. [He steps closer now that he knows that everything's fine, noticing the work that Maxwell is doing but not commenting on it just yet.] I was just wondering who was in here, since it is already quite late.

[And now that he does know, the mystery is solved! Sort of, anyway.]

[dreadinquisitor]

[His eyebrow jumped.]

Late?

[He glanced away, toward the window on the far side of the room, looking at the dark beyond.]

...I had no idea. I started working, and I - must have lost track. I'm sorry, if I disturbed you with all this. [He gestured, looking sheepish, to the hammer and metal. Hopefully Bruce hadn't been trying to sleep too close by.]

[amygdalae]

Don't worry about it. [Bruce quickly waves off the apology, since really Maxwell hadn't done anything wrong at all.] You didn't disturb me. I came here only because I was curious.

[But that said...]

You must be really busy if you're working until this late. You should at least take a break if you intend to continue.

[dreadinquisitor]

Well, I wouldn't call it busy, per say. [He smiled lightly and shrugged.] More determined. I just want to finish this project before we head to the Emprise.

[amygdalae]

[Determined? That was an interesting choice of word to use. Bruce's curiosity is perked, although he knows better than to nose around too much.

Still, if Maxwell was willing to share...] Oh? Something important then, I assume?

[dreadinquisitor]

Yes. [Said with slow, small nod that grew more vehement as the appropriateness of the word settled over him. Important, yes.] It's a gift, and I would really like to see to get him before we call get pulled away.

[He turned the mold over and blew out a breath at the links still lodged firmly in the metal.] Still a lot to do though.

[amygdalae]

[Ah, so its that kind of gift. Bruce nods and doesn't pry any more at that point - such things were after all personal, and he knows better than most how important such privacy was.]

Well, I don't think they're due to set off so soon. [He gives Maxwell a small, encouraging smile.] So I'm sure you'll be able to manage it in time.

[dreadinquisitor]

[Maxwell smiled.]

Let's hope so. [He picked up the hammer again and choked up on the handle as he turned the mold back over with his free hand.] ...Speaking of, will you be joining the Inquisition in Sahrnia?