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WHO: Samouel and Anyone
WHAT: Doing odd jobs around Skyhold, and everyday life stuff.
WHEN: Anytime during the first two weeks
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Anything and everything can happen. Prose or brackets welcomed

There was always something to be done around Skyhold, which was perfect because without having any missions to go on, Sam would have probably slowly gone insane. As it were Sam threw himself more into his practices.

On most days Sam busied himself with dedicating his time to his magic. Mornings often found him in the library picking out a book and later taking it to the dining hall to read as he ate his food, or finding a secluded spot in what was being turned into a garden. Always to himself, invested in the pages, and trying to be out of the way of everyone.

Afternoons he took to actually practicing his magic. A good part of the time he would offer any aid he was capable of doing down at the tents where they cared for the injured and sick. He wasn't nearly as skilled as the more practiced healers who had trained most of their lives in the Circle, but he made up for it with determination. Or if he seemed to just be in the way, Sam found himself testing out spells on the practice dummies behind the Herald's Rest.

The other days that Sam didn't dedicate to magic, he dedicated to manual labor and honing the skills his father taught him. It was also a way to make a few coins here and there. While he did spend some amount of time helping with the stables, Sam primary kept himself to the forges housed behind the tavern. It was hot, rough work, but it didn't both him in the least. It reminded him of things before the Conclave, or even the Blight. Didn't hurt that it was warm and he got a fair workout in the process.

Evenings Sam always found himself at the Herald's Rest. He never drank, except maybe once in a while when Cabot pressed that he try the new "special" of the day or a friendly suggestion by another was made. For the most part he simply just spent time in the tavern because there wasn't anywhere else to go. Especially on those nights that sleep either would not come to him or he just didn't want to face his dreams.

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If Skyhold wasn't constantly busy and bustling with activity here, Sauveterre would've surely gone mad. During the early hours of the day, the Knight-Commander would be assisting in training the new recruits of the Inquisition. While none if them could hope to be as well trained as his Templar, Sauveterre trained them nonetheless in swordsmanship.

Once the afternoon arrives, his recruits say their farewells and take their leave. Sauveterre does the same normally but today he finds himself wandering through the garden instead. There's something comforting about laying his gaze upon nature. It reminds him that not everything in the world is in peril.

He continues with his stroll towards the tavern until catching a glimpse of the mage nearby. The telltale signs of sorcery lingers in the air as the Templar draws nearer. Dressed proudly in his ceremonial silver and red armor, Sauveterre lingers there for a time an watches the mage practice. He is a quiet voyeur, a respectful one at that since most Templar are eager to show their dislike for mages these days.

Edited 2015-10-18 22:36 (UTC)

"Huh." The word is quick and curious as he leans on his staff and studies the dummy. For the most part the dummy looked unharmed, save for the small whiffs of smoke disappearing into the air along the edges of the arms. Singed but not on fire.

"Took one hit more to take it down..." he mutters to himself, rubbing at his chin before squatting down on the balls of his feet and using the staff as a balance point. For a while Sam continues on like that; standing up to pick at the dummy then finding some odd position as he contemplated, all the while muttering things to himself.

At some point though Sam is vaguely aware that he's being watched. He doesn't react at first, but eventually he turns slowly to look over his shoulder. By the look on his face it's obvious that he's a bit surprised, intimidated? at the armored man staring at him. Just to be sure Sam looks around him to see if there was anyone else the man could be looking at, but it's clear that he was the target.

Turning around fully, Sam raises a brow. "Can... I help you?"

Edited 2015-10-18 22:59 (UTC)

It took the mage awhile to realize that he had gained an audience. Sauveterre takes some amusement from that. Not even a looming masked Templar is enough to disenchant a mage from his practice. The Knight-Commander leans against a nearby pillar and crosses his arms. He continues to watch the spellcaster until the young man finally glances towards his direction. The entire affair is comedic at best as the mage nervously glances from one side to another. A faint chuckle escapes him briefly but not else until the mage speaks.

"Pray do not fret. I mean no harm." That Orlesian accent gives away the Knight-Commander's origins well enough. His voice is surprisingly clear despite the horned helmet he wears.

"It's not often I see such talents on display without earning a few glowers for watching. You remind me of the young apprentices of my tower." There's a hint of nostalgia in his tone that the mage could clearly note.

Orlesian. Not quite like the others though. Wearing a mask was familiar, but the man - an older man if he could hear right - was not like the dignitaries that filed in from day to day. The armor for one, and the fact that he had traveled to this part of the fortress another.

Sam raises a brow at the mention of apprentices and a tower. A Templar? The thought makes Sam tense up a bit, but keeps his grip loose on his staff and his gaze leisurely. There seemed to be mirth in the man's voice with a hint of nostalgia, that made Sam to believe he was merely curious.

"This is the Inquisition," he pauses, eyes wandering the walls for a moment then back to the man, "if there is glowering it is well hidden. There isn't much room to practice and I don't think they would want it inside."

Sauveterre can feel the youth's eyes upon him. The mage is trying to analyze whether or not he should be wary. It makes sense since Sauveterre did just give himself away as a Templar a moment ago. He could tell that revelation made the boy tense ever so slightly. Nevertheless, the Knight-Commander isn't put off by the mage's reaction.

If anything he's even more determined to speak with him now because of it.

"That much is true but the dissent is palpable." He answers quickly before glancing at the mage's staff. "Are you a novice in your craft?" That's an odd question for a Templar to ask.

"I've noticed during your practice that you seemed somewhat discontent."

Sam tilts his head to the right and his brows narrow in curiosity at the question. It wasn't unusual to have a Templar question your magic, but it wasn't followed with the usual bite or venom. It was genuinely curious? Also the way he asks is unusual.

Discontent...?

Sam's brows raise in surprise. The Templar hadn't just happened upon him, he had been watching for a while.

Looking to his staff, Sam twists it back and forth a few times. It isn't the best looking staff, but it was simply for practice. Nothing more.

"Not a novice. Though I'm not an expert either," he says coolly. "I wouldn't say it's discontent. I'm just seeing what my skills are progressing and what I need to change."

To be frank, that staff is quite bland in his opinion. He seen some of the staffs and canes the other mages use and most of them are quite decorative. This is why he had thought the youth to be a novice at this, an apprentice who has yet earned his place amongst the Magi. But Sauveterre won't mention the Harrowing anytime soon in fear of scaring the mage off.

"Are your skills progressing well?" Another curious question escapes the Templar. "You were barely able to ignite that wooden dummy." Is that criticism on his part? Certainly could be. Though, what could a Templar possibly know of magic?

At the mention of the dummy, Sam turns half way to look at his practice target. Besides the slightly darkened edges where the hands would be it looked completely unharmed. It was then that it occurred to Sam what the Templar was referring to.

Turning back around with a grin and his free hand resting on his hip, Sam gave a chuckle.

"I suppose if that was what I was trying to do then I did spectacularly fail at that." He supposes he probably looked quite amateurish with the current state of things.

"The point was to shoot it head on and it NOT get set on fire."

A sound of awe is heard from the armor-clad man. It would seem the Orlesian hadn't expected that to be the objective of the youth's practice. Now he feels somewhat asinine for his previous comment. Just how could he tell? The Templar didn't even think that a mage could do that.

"I am humbled." The masked Templar says as he pushes off the pillar. He walks forward with an even stride to observe the practice dummy up close. It's then that the Templar finally unhooks the clasps that secures his helmet.

"Then am I correct in assuming you've done just that?" A pair of pierecing grey eyes now lingers upon the mage with muted wonder.

That is a first, hearing a Templar say he was humbled. To a mage. What is even more amazing is actually seeing a face under the helmet when the man removes it - honestly, he was expecting a mask under there.

He's also rather surprised by how fetching the man is. The armor seems like it was made to coordinate with his looks.

"For the most part," Sam nods and hesitantly walks closer, though still keeping a wide berth. Eventually he does end up by the dummy as well and picks at the straw. "The barrier takes a decent beating, but it would be better if it could handle more."

Sauveterre notices the mage's surprise but he doesn't wish to speak upon it. For too long the Templar have fulfilled the role of the villain. Even before Meredith and her misguided crusade that plunged them into such darkness; the Order has been plagued with tyrants and murderers. A dangerous combination of faith and fear lead his brothers astray and down the path if villainy. It's a bitter draught for Sauveterre to swallow but it's the truth.

"What can you do to alter it? Surely there's other spells that could assist you." If the other isn't a novice, then Sauveterre suspects that the mage is intermediate at best.

"From what little I know, some mages try to focus their power to something...external, much like the staff you have, before casting."

Edited 2015-10-19 01:28 (UTC)

"There's nothing wrong with my concentration. My target isn't the issue." Waving a hand at the dummy Sam smiled as a sheen of blue magic surrounded it then faded. Only a slight discoloration proved that the barrier was there.

"Course a stationary target is much easier to deal with." Sam chuckles, idly tapping at the straw. "At this point it's just practice. It's just a matter of increasing my magical stamina and being able pull the magic in the area to do most of the work, rather than taxing my own."

He smiles at the man then, obviously having forgotten he was talking to a Templar. The thought lessens his smile but he doesn't let it falter. "If you don't mind me saying so... you aren't like some of the other Templars I've met."

A barrier? Sauveterre's gaze is somewhat alit with awe now. He's seen mages cast barriers before in the past but never quite like this. Usually a mage would create a temporary barrier around themselves to protect themselves from harm not others. This is why the Templar looks mildly surprised. He had the young mage all wrong apparently.

"Your magical stamina? Ah, yes. I do believe I understand." Sauveterre replies before turning his gaze away from the dummy again. His grey eyes lingers upon the young mage again but this time with a hint of mirth.

"Is that so?"

There's something about the gaze that makes Sam still. Perhaps it was the coloring of his eyes? Nervously, Sam brings his free hand up to rub at his neck. He forgets his comment for a moment.

"Ah... yes. I'm a bit more used to... less friendly conversation. At least before the Inquisition." There's a pause. "Have you been with us long or... are you just visiting?" Sam doesn't remember seeing this particular man before.

Grey eyes are uncommon for any race but they're indeed grey. Much like the metallic shine of a sword or dagger, Sauveterre eyes the mage intently knowing that the youth is a tad unnerved. He's not certain what to make of the mage but so far Sauveterre finds him to be a decent distraction from the rest of Skyhold.

"Nay, I came here upon a friend's behest. Joining the Inquisition was our last resort now that the Order has become chaos." He turns away from the mage and lets out a disgruntle sigh. His discontent is clearly written across his face.

"We only just arrived, him alone and I with fifteen strong hailing from Pharos Tower."

Sam nods, seeming a bit more at ease at knowing that the Templar had only recently arrived. If they had been working together for a period of time and Sam hadn't noticed him before? This would be rather awkward.

"Pharos Tower," he repeats the name and tilts his head just a bit, taking note of the distress in the other's voice. "Can't say I know of it. What part of Orlais is it in?"

The remnants of a smile touches Sauveterre's lips as he speaks of Pharos. The Templar's heart swells with pride as he thinks back to the comrades he once knew. While his memories of were dimmed by the shadow of the war, Sauveterre could never forget the beauty of Pharos. That is something that the war could never take from him.

"Nestled deep within the forests near the marquisate of Serault lies the Lonely Lighthouse West of the Sea, I speak of Pharos. Previously created by the hands of the Tevinter, Pharos was the one of the few artifacts left unsullied by modern hands. It was both home and prison both but some of us Templar strived to do good by our Circle." There's a slight haunted look in his gaze as he speaks. It's almost as it pains him to reminisce.

"Pharos hasn't fallen but it is empty of all that once brought me joy."

He can feel a smile creeping up on his lips as he listens to the Templar. He is so... expressive with how he talks about Pharos. It is something Sam is not familiar with his own circle. He could say nice things about it, but is faltered to the grand image the man was painting.

It is probably because of that, that he feels a dull ache in the way the happiness seems to just die off in the man's eyes. And his last words make the once proud tower sound like a graveyard.

"I'm truly sorry to hear that."

There is silence for a moment before Sam shifts his weight.

"You said there were others that came with you? Are they roaming around as well?"

The silence is welcomed.

There's not a moment in the day that Sauveterre's thoughts don't linger within the halls of once beautiful Pharos. His thoughts often stray at times to a happier memory only to be dimmed by the silhouettes of the dead. This is why he's sometimes hesitant to speak of his tower.

The mage's next question transports him from the past and returns him to the present. A full blown smile appears upon the Knight-Commander's lips.

"Indeed. Many of them seem to have taken a fondness for assisting with the rebuilding of Skyhold while others take on guard duty. I have yet to speak with Commander Rutherford but soon I shall find out from him what he'll need in terms of our support."

The smile is infectious and Sam finds himself returning it. At the mention of the Commander, Sam laughs lightly.

"Ah, the Commander. I'm afraid he has a lot under his belt. If you're not worried about formalities too much I might suggest trying to catch him during the mornings. He's particular about seeing to the troops himself. That's all I know though. Can't say I've spoken to him myself save maybe a few words here and there."

Leaning a bit more weight onto his staff, Sam lets himself cross his legs and take on a more relaxed pose.

"It is good to hear that you're all fitting in. The help is appreciated. Skyhold is marvelous, but... kind of a dump to a point." He chuckles at that.

From how the mage has described Cullen, Sauveterre doesn't feel as apprehensive as before about meeting him. It seems that the Commander is a good man despite being an former Templar but something about that ex-Templar thing bothers him. Just how could any man put aside his oath to the Chantry like that and claim renegade?

A pensive look lingers in those odd grey eyes. Speaking with Cullen has become more imperative. "I shall keep your suggestion within my thoughts." He replies quietly. "Any man who cares for his men so is worthy to be a commander. Tis a silent miracle that he's nothing like Meredith." Just that woman's name makes him ill at ease sometimes.

"Skyhold may not live up to its ancestral name now but someday, it shall once more."

Edited 2015-10-19 14:12 (UTC)

Sam nods solemnly at that. He cannot comment on Kirkwall very much though since he's only heard stories. Much of which were not very pleasant.

"I'm sure it will. There are many fine men and women putting a lot of work into putting it back together. A bit cooler than a lot of us would probably like though."

"It shall simply take time before everything is restored to it's former glory." Sauveterre replies with a slight frown. He cannot wait until all these scaffoldings are all gone for good. It is his wish to see the Skyhold as a beacon of strength much how he once viewed Pharos. This would ease some of the worries that still plague him since the rebellion.

"Ah, I forget myself!" The Templar has a revelation of some kind as he eyes the mage again. "The time for introductions has long passed and at my own fault at that. I am Knight-Commander Alayre Sauveterre." He smiles again and bows graciously with a hint of mirth upon his face.

"Pray forgive my lack of manners."

Sam's eyes widen with pleasant surprise when the man mentions introductions. It's much like himself when he's forgotten to give his name. Considering the pleasant talk they were having he doesn't mind to exchange the pleasantries.

Course the title Knight-Commander does startle him. Not so much to go running for the hills, but once again Sam finds himself tensing up. He had assumed the fine armor was simply because he was Orlesian, not because of rank. Sam hadn't considered that he ranked so high with how friendly he had been with him.

And then Sauveterre is bowing to him, which throws Sam for another loop. He is very unaccustomed to this kind of treatment.

"Ah..." he says dumbly when the Knight-Commander looks up at him. Sam chuckles then rubs the back of his head. "Samouel. Ah, Samouel Gareth." As a side note he bows as well, but not as grand as Sauveterre. "A pleasure."

Sauveterre straightens his posture again and smiles pleasantly. He hasn't meant to startle the mage at all by admitting his name and title both. He could've forgone title and name all together but then he would've felt like was hiding his status out of shame. There's nothing for Alayre to be ashamed of. He's a good man who earned this title through blood, sweat and many tears.

"The pleasure is all mind, Samouel. Please do not feel the need to call me by title. You are no Templar and not a soldier. Simply 'Alayre' shall do. I rarely hear my given name anymore these days."

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