faderift | I can do it with instruments,

Entry tags:

I can do it with instruments,

WHO: Leliana & open;
WHAT: the many adventures of Sister Nightingale - open prompts and some custom made.
WHEN: Some prompts can be backdated, if you like! Otherwise, spanning the end of fantasy land January.
WHERE: various!
NOTES:brackets or prose are fine, I'll match whatever you prefer :Db feel free to pp me on @swoons on plurk, or pm me if you'd like a custom starter! I'm more than happy to whip one up.

( herald's rest. )

( and there goes someone slinking out of the tavern, and they may just have knocked into your character on their way. they have lost a fine dagger and a bag of coin to a woman sitting in the corner, who is presently shuffling cards with a slight, pleased smile. it was foolish to let skills atrophy, whether it is the wielding of blades and arrows, or the brutal delivery of a winning hand. she has finished her wine, and is waiting for the man at the bar to deliver more. )

( gardens. )

( In the past she would spend more time in their little improvised Chantry, have lit candles and murmured prayers. She finds herself lacking the inclination, today. The Chantry has been a comfort to her for so many years, now, but she has always existed at odds with others. The brothers and sisters in Lothering had doubted her, and there had been part of her that relished the attention, even as she was appalled by their self-centered obsession that the Maker's love must make you unique. The memory makes a sharp, unpleasant smile tug at the corners of her mouth as she wanders the garden. It has become something of habit, letting the sun's descent and the pulling away of the yellows and oranges pooled across the sky and the inky blue and black of the night sky truly falls. Perhaps it is dramatic of her, but she would like to allow herself the indulgence.

Perhaps she hears the approach, and it breaks her from her reverie, or perhaps it is one of the rare occasions where she chooses to make the approach. )

It is beautiful, no?

( wildcard. )

I'm lazy, hit me with whatever idea grabs you :]b Rookery? Nug adventures? idk ANYTHING

( alistair. )

( Most people give their friends some warning before visiting.
Most people, however, are not Leliana, and so it is that she is standing at the entrance of Alistair's chambers just as he is leaving to go somewhere, a squeaking nug following at her ankles. She cannot loom over Alistair (it's not like she can physically loom over most people, actually) but she still has something of a presence, and she sometimes forgets not to loom in social settings. Or maybe she just wants to see the look on his face, because Alistair is so terribly expressive. She can't imagine a worse spy, but that's an endearing quality in a friend. ) Did I catch you at a bad time?

( That smile suggests that she isn't overly concerned about it, actually. )

( maria hill. )

( There were not many templars she held in esteem. Or, perhaps, there were not many templars that she deemed worthy of their rank and responsibility-- no. Leliana frowns, discontent with her own thoughts. The Chantry was a flawed thing, a thing that needed gutting and reworking in its entirety, as much as she suspects the very mention of such thoughts would make some amongst her frequent company less than easy. The Maker was a being of love, of acceptance - and he made mages, and granted them their gift. Why, then, was it the Maker's will that they be torn from their families, treated as if they were abominations before a demon could so much have dreamed of tempting them. Their gifts were shackled, and their wills, and all the while murderers and thieves like Leliana herself could walk free. It was not right, and the thoughts of Chantry corruption, of templar abuses of power and the suffering that those who claimed to do the Maker's bidding brought was insufferable. It could not endure.

Leliana paces, one hand balled into a tight fist as she walks the ramparts, eager to gain some air away from the rookery. And perhaps these thoughts leave her a hypocrite, because what is she, if not a bringer of death? She could bring men to their knees with a threat and a whisper, and cut their throats for the sake of certainty. She was no better, that she knows, but it is not for herself that she Chantry must be reformed. No, she knows the darkness within, and it is only one so well-versed that could dream of cutting away such a foul infection with the surgical precision required.

Perhaps the Maker has a sense of humour, that she looks away from the stretch of blue skies and mountains, only to be met with... a templar, and a cooperative one, at that. The hand that was so tightly clenched relaxes, and Leliana eases her posture, leaning against the ivy-strewn wall. ) Maria. I trust all is well?

( zevran. )

( Luncheon between assassins. It was laughable, in a way. Still, she has put off catching up with her old friend for far too long, and of all people, Zevran is one of few she has the most tolerance for. It is not that she is impatient, and she can play parts well, it is simply... Zevran knows her well, better than most, and so there are those who wish to make an impression on Sister Nightingale, on the advisor and the spymaster, or they are afraid of what she knows and what she can do. Neither particularly bothers her, but sometimes it is pleasant to be in the company of those who do carry the same expectations. Perhaps being in the company of one who remembers the earnest bard come lay-sister is a relief, as well, who has seen her evolution.

Leliana is sitting on a rooftop, eyes closed and inhaling deeply, relishing the way the mountain air stings her lungs on the deep breath, and has something of a picnic - if such a term can be used, in these circumstances - laid out. Eyes still closed, she smiles ever so slightly. He may move silently, stalk with the best, but she is Sister Nightingale, and detection is something she has known for decades, now. )

You made it.

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[There's another frown from the golem, but they don't mention the bird thing again for the moment. Shale is disappointed in you you, though. Worst pets.

At the mention of the others, Shale shakes their head slowly.]

It is not the same. The elder mage is gone. The Warden has disappeared. There are things to crush, though. I like that.

( Were she not so schooled in reining herself in, her face might have fallen at the mention of Wynne. Of Jonas, as well, but moreso of Wynne. Instead, her back stiffens slightly, mouth forming a tense line for just a moment as she considers how to response. )

And we are lacking Sten and Oghren, though perhaps there is a chance they will be drawn to the cause, as you were. They never were as adept at crushing as you, though, that is without doubt.

( It is easier to resort to jokes, from time to time. )

The Qunari, yes. The Drunken Dwarf is unnecessary. [Shale no.]

It should tell me about the one that made the hole in the sky.

( Ah, the Drunken Dwarf. She misses him... less so his odours and his commentary. A fine comrade, nonetheless. )

It should. ( Quiet, and Leliana can at least adopt a pragmatic detachment that she lacked a decade ago. At the very least, she can adopt an appearance of it, even when her blood seems fit to simmer and her chest to twist into a tangled knot. )

Corypheus, also called the Elder One. He has recruited a number of mages and templars, just as our Herald did before she died. ( Before Leliana's over-caution killed her. Foolish, stupid. ) Their numbers are corrupted by red lyrium and blood magic. He was responsible for the explosion at the Conclave.

( Something in her voice tightens, sounds colder. ) I cannot imagine how many lives he is responsible for ending.

[The golem is quiet as she speaks, looking thoughtful. Leliana had changed, but people changed. They were malleable little things, easily formed under both fist and words.

Frowning, they cross their arms with a scraping sound. It sounded pretty much like last time, only less darkspawn and more foolish squishy things desperate for power.

...and magic. Of course there was always magic.]

Its Herald closed the hole. Why is the sky-opener still fighting?

Because there is more to his plan, and he will not rest until his goals have been realised.

( Her voice is grave, but she tries to consider it in a framework Shale might better appreciate. )

Consider, for example, ( Leliana starts, vaguely gesturing with her right hand, the elbow of it propped on her left arm that is crossed over her chest. ) If you discovered a cave full of birds. Just because the entranceway you planned to access them by was blocked would not dissuade you from your vengeance, no?

( Not her finest comparison, she suspects. )

[Shale makes a grumbling sound, shaking their head. Leliana had a point... maybe.]

The Sister makes sense. [There's another pause, and the golem frowns yet again.]

What is it the sky-opener desires, then?

( Ah, just the very slightest smile. A rare and special compliment - or so she will tell herself. )

Destruction, ( simply put. ) To re-arrange the world as how he feels it should be. To restore a world that disappeared Ages ago, and leave a trail of suffering in his wake.

( At least she still has a flair for the dramatic. )</small.

Of course.

[There's a long-suffering sigh. Oh, you fleshy people.]

Why is it always re-arranging the world? They're in this one. Wanting to rule it seems like less trouble than breaking it.

[Shale appreciates the dramatic edge, though. Maybe they missed the Sister and maybe her songs, too. The talks of the Maker. The naivety that seemed gone.]

Why are we not fighting it already?

( The best she can offer is a sympathetic shrug. ) That would not make for nearly so dramatic a story, I suppose.
( And no matter what they say, people always want the best stories to be told of themselves. ) Though I do not think change is always so bad. His changes would shatter us, but... some changes would see the world greatly improved.

( It's like her old optimism and more recent bitterness tangled together. )

We need more information and more strength. He has had much time to corrupt forces within Thedas. It would a poor thing if we were to be cut down for rushing in too fast.

( A faint edge of a smile. )

There is as much political wrangling and negotiation necessary now as ever there was during the Blight. I do not think we will need to see any kings set on thrones, but you can never be certain.

[Shale makes a slightly irritated noise, but Leliana was right, of course. It always had to be some grand and delusional thing. Still, hearing that she wanted the world changed in some ways was... interesting.

There was something very different between the sister and this left hand. More than they had noticed during the events with Wynne.

Strange.]

So it is like last time. Little things to get little people to support bigger people.

[Allies, pieces of puzzles, dwarf kings and human kings.]

It is a very long path, sister. There were many soldiers to fight with us in Denerim, but it was still only one that struck the archdemon down.

In some ways. It remains true that the little people are the ones most likely to be hurt.

( Flatly observed. She feels more than a little tired of seeing people treated as disposable - silly, perhaps, given her profession and given the sorts of things that are necessary within it.

And Shales earns a wry smile, with that, Leliana looking up at the golem and remembering just how brutal the fight had been. Guts and glory, some said. Leliana wasn't so sure people really understood how literal that first part could be. )

Perhaps we can all tackle it at once, this time. You go for his legs, I'll jump on his back.

At least that last comment makes the golem look a little happier (as happy as Shale could look, at least) and they close their large hands into fists. "I wish to be there when it falls." They say adamantly, and looks at Leliana.

The sister didn't exactly look like she did a lot of back jumping any more.

"Is it happy here?"

"And I, as well. It would be good to be alongside one another in battle, again." She can make no guarantees, of course, but... she is fonder of Shale than most. If there are things she can bring within Shale's grasp (aside from her ravens) then she will. If the Anvil of the Void taught her nothing else, it was that golems had endured enough.

"I am doing what must be done. I am serving the Maker and working to protect Thedas." They are neither of them direct answers to Shale's question, and part of her hopes for tact that she already knows better than to anticipate. Perhaps she should know better, when she long ago gave up on the power of simple optimism. "And I have many old friends here with me."

The very same Anvil of the Void that still stood down there in the Deep Roads, ready to pop out new golems with Branka's help. That decision had never gone over well with Shale. Golems would endure worse than being stuck in courtyards soon enough.

"Serving does not mean it is happy," the golem grouses, eyeing Leliana. "The Sister is very different." Tact wasn't exactly Shale's thing, and the golem wasn't about to bullshit this. "...but it does have friends here."

"I had to change," she starts, brow creasing a little.

Zevran she had expected comments from - he and she shared too much in common for him not to comment on her embracing that side of herself with, ten years ago, she had deemed so repugnant. Shale, though? Though it must be said that, simply because Shale's preferred means to access the truth was more of a battering ram approach, did not make it any less real than those who used knives.

"I could not do all that I must, if I had remained the same young woman you travelled with before. The differences in me have made me more effective." A moment of pause, considering. "I have settled more into who I always was - remembering who I was before our paths first crossed. That is all."

There are moments when she is so certain that she has caught some glimpse of Marjolaine, in the way her shadow stands, or the way her voice plays over words, but she will be more than Marjolaine was. That was important. "I am happy to work towards the goals that bring us all here."

Perhaps, she ruminates, that is the best she can supply short of an outright lie. So be it.

She had to, she says, and yeah, Shale can kind of understand that. People were always changing, growing, dying. It was a messy thing, to be made of flesh and feelings. It's not as if they're angry with her for changing - it was just unexpected.

'The Sister' might not be appropriate any more, but Shale would rather be turned to dust than call her a bird's name. Ew..

"Does it still sing?"

"When there is time," Leliana replies with a sigh, frowning as she spots one of her scouts starting to descend the staircase into the courtyard. What her response means is no, plain and simple, unless she is required to sing for work, and those days are few and far between.

"Perhaps we could do a duet together, you and I."

"I do not sing," Shale mutters slightly, giving Leliana a look that ends up being rather hard to read on their stony features. Maybe it was irritation, maybe it was concern. Maybe a bit of both.

"...but I would enjoy hearing it sing."

"Perhaps it can be arranged," she replies, a little vaguely, watching as the scout approaches and accepting the letter he holds wordlessly, breaking the seal though her gaze flickers back to Shale. "If you particularly wish it. There are some wonderful minstrels that visit our tavern," Leliana adds, though she is looking at the letter now and a frown is tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Stone Sister, I am afraid I need to cut my visit short. The dreadful birds have brought more news."

The golem turns away from Leliana with another huff, but despite the annoyed posturing, Shale does understand that the human is quite busy. This political bullshit was needed, no matter how much they'd rather just smash everything. The fact that it had changed Leliana so much was the golem's biggest problem.

Maybe the Maker had decided to chip away that sweet layer forever. Or maybe stupid shoe things would return it.

"As it wishes. It knows where to find me."

"And if you have need of me then I am sure you can catch the attention of one of my scouts," Leliana offers, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth before it disappears. She sets a hand on one of the Shale's large hands, hands that she remembered well - striking down enemies, defending each of them when they had needed protection in battle.

"It is truly good to see you again," she says, nodding to the golem respectfully. "Soon, then."

With she moves, the scout bowing to Shale as well, before scurrying off after Leliana.

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I can do it with instruments,

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