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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sam grins, still pulling at parts to see just where the Elf was having issues with the armor. "Well I don't think I could fight into a decent pair of leather without issues. Guess we're even."

He looks up then, raising his brows in amusement. Considering his height he had a time of getting things to fit right as well.

"I could see if we have a smaller one. Or do you want to see about the other one first?"

"Making leather armor for larger frames is difficult, you need enough padding for it to be worthwhile but not so much to keep it from moving as needed." Most taller human rogues he knew went with scale mail. Perhaps he should look into that as the splint seems to be sized oddly.

"Let us see how the scale fits first and go from there, yes?"

"As I've been told." That had been a fun conversation with plenty of unamused sighs and looks. What he had been curious.

Sam nods and pulls his hand back. "Alright. Do you need any help getting this off-" Sam makes a face as something occurs to him. "I guess I never caught your name." At that Sam holds out a hand. "Course it's always rude to ask and not give your own. I'm Samouel; lumbering healer in training and occasional blacksmith."

"Zevran Arainai. A pleasure to meet you Samouel." He takes the hand as given and shakes it gladly. Such a kindness is not often offered but, again, Circle Mage. Different standards of living there.

There's a smile as he gets a name and the handshake returned. The grip is firm, but controlled. Interesting.

"Zevran Arainai?" He repeats the name a couple times as if testing it out. "The name sounds familiar." He's pretty sure he hasn't met Zevran before. He would have remembered the face at least if he had, but he knows he's heard the name before.

"Antivan Companion to the Hero of Fereldan?" He was beginning to give up on not making a thing of that. Everyone here seemed to know at least scraps of the story.

Sam blinks at that and he's quiet for a moment. Which is then followed by excited wide eyes and a grin. "You're that Zevran?!" Oh shit he just shook hands with THAT Zevran. His excitement is curbed a bit as that settles in.

Oh... that's a little intimidating.

"Are you join the Inquisition?"

"I am indeed!" His grin is returned in full. "I am surprised that so many seem to know of the part I took in that particular adventure."

The Dalish? That made sense. Elves in general remembering his name he could understand. Humans tended to keep to their own.

"With everything going on I thought perhaps they might need my help."

"Well you helped save Ferelden. That's pretty big. I'm very thankful for that." He grins. There hadn't been a whole lot about all the Hero of Ferelden's companions, but their names and their part had been recorded at least.

"Ah, well I feel more confident on this war already." Sam tilts his head and gives Zevran a questioning look. "If you're staying why aren't you getting custom made armor?"

"Because the smith I have for such things is currently not speaking to me. Or rather his partner isn't giving him any of my letters." Wade and Herren were wonderful with what they did- but Herren was displeased with him from the last order he made about a year ago. "Also outfitting the many is more important than the specifications of the few. Let it never be said Zevran is not a team player."

Sam chuckles at that. "I shall never say that. But I would think it is also important to have the right tools to do your job correctly. That and armor that actually fits keeps you alive, and in the long run that's better for the Inquisition."

Seemed like his life kept getting more interesting by the minute. "Well if you're still having issues with your smith and you don't mind... I'm sure Master Harritt would look into making something to your specifications."

"It is not me who would be minding, Sam." Master Smiths did not often take well to being told to make something just so from an elf. Even if said elf helped save the world ten years ago. "But I suppose it would not hurt to make an attempt."

Sam blinks as he catches the change in tone and serious look on Zevran's face. He suddenly feels like he's said something wrong. One of those 'easier said than done' things?

"If it's easier... I could... take your measurements here and put the request with some others we take to Harritt."

"That might be the wisest solution. Not everyone is as gracious as you when it comes to dealing with non-human customers." For Sam has been terribly gracious.

Sam raises a brow at that. It takes him a moment to fully get the meaning, but when he does the smile drops. Raising a hand he rubs his eyes; he felt like an idiot. There's a long sigh that follows before he looks back up at Zevran.

"And I probably sounded like a complete idiot... jerk? for saying some things so easily. Sorry." The apology is sincere. "I wasn't trying to offend."

"Think nothing of it. You lived in a Circle- things are different there." He goes so far as to flick his fingers at the air, much like brushing aside something unpleasant. "All is forgiven. You literally had no idea, how can I be offended over that?"

Sam gives a huff but there is a smile with it. "I've been told it's insensitive." He crosses his arms at that, tilting his head to the side.

"Well I suppose I should thank you for not being offended and stabbing me with your pretty daggers? I'm sure that would have hurt more then getting hit with a rock."

"Well. It is. But innocent ignorance is easier to forgive than deliberate malice." A beat. "Though I would recommend not calling myself or any other elf, dwarf, Qunari- anyone 'exotic'. Just for future reference."

Sam winces at that. "Aaaaaah. So I did offend you. That is... embarrassing." He smiles meekly and tries to look as apologetic as possible. "Note taken. Would 'alluring' have been better?"

"I have been called far worse in malice. It was said and meant as a compliment from a handsome man that didn't know better. I can let it go." And has, but he won't mind the correction. "Ooh. I do like the sound of that. The alluring Zevran Arainai. Perhaps I should put it on my calling card."

Sam blushes at the compliment, he's not used to them. Relieved that he's corrected any offense he has or had made he chuckles. "What does your calling card say now? If you mind me asking."

"Zevran Arainai, lover and fighter, thwarting Crow Assassinations since 9:30 Dragon." And Crow plots. And crow political movements in Antiva. He may be taking the revenge thing a little far with the continued attempts to swat them down- but either he would die or they would. So far? It's been them.

That's quite the impressive calling card. "So would the 'alluring' part go with 'lover and fighter', or you going to use it as a title?"

Sam's shoulders shake with his chuckles at it all. "Alright. So, am I to refer to you as Alluring Zevran Arainai... or just Zevran?"

"I think at the beginning, The Alluring Zevran Arainai rolls off the tongue so nicely, don't you think?" There could be songs. Should be, in fact- probably are a few in Antivan brothels.

"Well you could if you wished- but my friends call me Zev- so that option is available to you."

Sam's brows raise in amusement at the offer. "From innocent offender Circle mage to friends with Zevran Arainai. This has been quite the day."

He motions to the splint mail Zevran is wearing. "Alright, Zev... ran," he's not sure if he's quite comfortable to jumping to being that familiar even if he had offered, "do you need help getting the armor off?"